High Heels

High heels

At Cemetery

among tombs and strange people

A widow so sad

At least she had a moment

One tear to share for the dead

At  Restaurant

you could see two long legs

on her black high heels

as a good living widow must be

At house

alone, the sun going down

a widow not so sad

waiting for whispers and rides

as night falls

while the dawn comes!

and morning rises!

her curled hair wraps other’s face

and all is allowed to get in

into those chastes thighs and legs

the hot breath, the caresses … the kisses

And finally!

in a frenzy’s moment

she cast out His photo

breakable memories  on the floor

One more spasm!

And He, as a good dead man has to be

remained  dead

among tombs and strange people

An Armored Man

an armored man bought  a bread
a french bread … a sliced bread
starving as you are… you have to eat
pure… enjoying the salt
that it’ll give you the life
another night the same man
buy the same bread to you
and your thoughts guiding you to a remembrance
when you had
something more than a salted piece of bread
on your table
and you see yourself
alone… aloneBread


longinghe sit behind those windows
as a right ~minimal~

thinking Alone ~ exhausted~
gleaming as a solid  carved figure
so real ~so heavy ~
A silent message from a silhouette
intense and living

steps disturbing  his thought
far away….but coming

breaking  away the not shared  thoughts

~to search for  ~ a little of love~
a tactile hand paused on his head
fingers entwining the hair
a cozy breath a warm touch
a tender kiss on his back
another deep breath
fall apart  ~ the guaranteed silence~

he stands up ~knowing~

Economic Feelings
to the life

Knock, Knock, Knock….

knock, knock, knock
it is life again
do you feel this void inside?
maybe a fear?
something to do and you dont know How?
They call this reality sometimes life
that put you above the foam of oceans
just to push you back at the bottom
deep, deeply

you need air and use your strength to get it
and it is too much effort
in a brief moment you are ~done~
Oops…again at the topSwallow Ocean
so, so careless with us
I am a little tired of being thrown

from a side to another
thinking in How to fix it
But i cant…we cant
It is Life…They say….

Knock, knock, Knock

Wait ~just a moment~ I have to…

Catch my Breath first….


Call me….

there Lost!

calling me ….calling…..  insanely beautiful
the fog, the ocean, the love
Call ! Call me insanely beautiful!

the boat’s fighting with the foams
and foams dripping in your face
Call…  call  me at that moment~ insanely beauty~

the key opening something
the desire closed forever
and you call and calling me insanely Beautiful


The White Rose

once i thought i was a flower
diaphanous  petals sheer ~ i chose  to be  one Beautiful Day with flowers 2!!!! Rose~
just because i brought one to home



was not my  and was not given to me
even in that way
once  ~i thought i was a rose~

i placed her on my cup
and She lasted only two days
and i did not understand….



how i could last for so so short time
~and that day i died a little~
and i still continue to die

the fragrancy, the texture, the color
the shadows…  they  are in my life

shuffled like cards and  falling down


but i know i am not that rose ~  I always knew~
i have not that rouge center
and all petals spread out for anyone to  see

that absorb and absorb
i am not  so white…..


Hey Past I am alive!!!!!


I worry about my past
not that he has anything special
what worries me are those that I left behind

And i think with myself
It is me that i am always running and not walking
or were their choice and not mine that made us so apart


And make it all only a Past…..


anyway….they are so far far away from me
hey nineteen…any memories?
the camping, super 8 videos, any birthdays?

The surf on Ipanema Beach, the Noscote to protect the sun
the chopp at Barril 1800, the friends
always the friends and no one of them so alive ….

Hey father, hey mother and the haunted house
With the mystic Pan, carved on my balcony
not a man not a beast…causing me panic as he like

Damn i hate flutes…..

Hello my sweethearts… so many…
one in every party ~and the dances to involve~
driving at dawn to UP to the Cristo Redentor and down in cartsMirna ao vento de Guarujá!!!

I worry about my past
not that he has anything special
just He is….and just now i am aware

sad, empty and dead without me to remember


But Hey Past…I am Alive….

Knock, Knock! The Messenger brings a Surprise!


Something must  to be delivered

or could be ~Someone??~

No one knows at this tragic time which was  the truth

~the veracity of the facts~



hand over at the doorstep

placed so careful to  always remember..to remember
DSC09576The tiny thing~ at the threshold~

in a huge place
that could be a Castle….
But It was a Castle for her incredulous eyes

they rang the bell with the pack in hands


and instantaneously the “Surprise” cries

the “Surprise”  understood….on a glimpse of crossed eyes

~that Castle was now my~

and the messenger just went away
without one beckon
with the heart so so tight

the addressees just untied the simple lace
that fall down at their knees
Oh! that petite thing that shout
why does it cry so high????

Oh! They never saw such grace in life



How about the Surprise?






I am a thief…forgive me…

Sometimes I feel unhappy with my words…. I’m very tough with  myself ……. People suffer for other things … I suffer because I’m extremely objective …

I speak a lot of things that even I do not understand … and I’m hoping that my readers help me to understand myself …. this is not fair

 I can not talk about love …about me… damn …. I’m a poetess I know …but  what kind of poetess….If i  know anything  about it  or about myself… . but even in that way my poetry always has a bit of love ….that comes from someone who inspired me … in a short time …. or someone who always inspires me … since I started writing

But is love anyway … well …. that feeling that  lack  me makes me in a  way   better … so is love … i think … even if I do not speak about the heart , clouds and touches … is love

A simple summary … I think I ‘m just a summary’s  life … of the  others lives ….  of others  feelings… that i capture so well…and sustain in my heart….like was mine….I believe that I’m here to live and write about … the OTHERs… their pain , their feelings , their life and love …. and then again Oh!

I steal what is not mine …. Sorry … i am a thief … because i have nothing more inside me … they took everything from me and I had to start in anyway ….somehow to rebuild my life … so I take your life …your feelings….

Are you happy ? ? You will not even feel  that….it’s like a small prick of a needle …and you ‘ll forget so fast …. But  me  OH…  I cropped-pandora-box2.jpg  … I’ll will never forget…..and i ‘ll keep stealing the soul of others…. your soul maybe… But …Thanks for understanding and forgive me….

And you have to know…..for that sin i hold the world in my back

but no one knows….even you….

My body not so ruined!

I can not….
besides me lies something bigger

~no pleasure, not love , nothing~
and hold me , and warms me
for a short period of time
~I do not just bang bang~

not anymore
Bang Bang is my name
sad that is not?
not so nice as well
in fact i am so near to death
that you can smell it
I ‘ve lived a good time
I danced with my frufru
I made my feet a ruin
I broke them all , one by one
not for the pleasure of the dance
but for the pleasure of pain
~and no one was watching ~
my feet are inviolate
for all to see
like my body
that the priest wanted to destroy
~and failed~

then I run
trying to keep my body
and my mind
stable and  in harmony

the the man in black more and more in a  ballet
i am so lonely with my body