A Coruja nos Ciprestes

Julho 2006 - Baseado em factos semi (ir)reais...



Guiado pela fada verde, atravesso a vila abandonada a Morfeu.
O peso da minha pele verga os meus ossos, ossos guiados pela fada verde.
Atravesso a vila adormecida e passo pelo cemitério.
Os seus portões estão adormecidos.
Mas eis que rasgando as trevas um par de asas se abeira de um frio cipreste.
"Oh coruja que saltitas nos ciprestes, trazes noticias da minha amada?"
"A tua amada jaz fria na sua tumba, duas moedas nos olhos..."
"Nobre ave que vens do além, conta-me algo que eu não saiba."
"Senhor, não te deixes enganar pela fada verde que te conduz..."
Perturbado por tão fantasmagórica revelação, esgueiro-me pelo cemitério ignorando o lamaçal nascido no inicio da noite.
A coruja olha-me fixamente, são verdes os seus olhos.
Tomo o caminho gravado na minha mente, chegaria lá de olhos fechados.
Não preciso de seguir as sombras, não preciso de ouvir seus sussurros.
Sei o meu caminho, fui eu que o escolhi...
Aproximo-me do sepulcro, rasga-se a minha alma.
Sinto o vento do bater das asas, vento que me congela o rosto transpirado.
...pois o sepulcro está violado, seus selos quebrados, seu pó intemporal revolvido.
Horrenda visão, um vazio caixão de veludo onde apenas resta uma negra rosa cintilante.
Levaram o meu amor, abandonaram-me à dor...
Pelo mórbido piar da coruja sou despertado. olhando o céu nocturno.
As estrelas cintilam, é verde o seu brilho...

Statues in the Storm

Julho 2006

A ray of light pierces through the shadow clouds. (the storm goes on)

The light is enough to allow me to see a rocky form in front of me. (the storm goes on)

A gargoyle... A gargoyle with broken wings... A gargoyle with broken wings and diamonds as eyes... (the storm goes on)

Hypnotized, I approach to gaze better to it's eyes. Lightning! And I saw something reflected in it's eyes. (the storm goes on)

It was not my reflection that I saw in those ancient eyes, but another statue, another rocky form somewhere in front of the gargoyle. (the storm goes on)

The blizzard gives truce and there it was! The shape of an angel immortalized in dark granite. (the storm wants to go on)

How can a statue looks so tired? Who created such wonder? It's the saddest angel I ever seen... (the storm wants to go on)

All becames clear in my mind. These statues are not here without a purppose. They are a symbol of something. (the storm wants to go on)

A staring gargoyle with diamond eyes and broken wings. A dark angel who's name is saddness. (the storm roars on)

Symbols of life, symbols of love. Condemned not to touch, condemned not to feel... (the storm roars on)

How long takes eternity? How much is forever? Can a storm be compared to time? Can statues move? Can I kiss you...? (the storm collapses over me)

...and neither am I...

Maio 2006




My guardian angel has swollen eyes and tear trails down her face. She dresses in white, but her dress is unclean. My guardian angel is very sad, is very tired. She has a dagger hidden behind her back. Tell me, shall I dance with the knife or shall I dance in my blood (since I cannot dance with you...)? My guardian angel is mute. She drops her head, eyes gazing the floor. And then all happened too fast: a shinning, the cold, the warmth... My guardian angel is no more...

(Not) Still Picture

20 Maio 2006

An abnormal cliff, of curious shape.

Suddenly, movement!

An unexpected (h)earthquake (are they ever expected?).

Silence. And then, a single tear bleeds the ocean with anguish. Waves made of pure storm break into once eternal rocks. Tears of acidic antiquity tame affluents vowed to oblivion, to refill a river of grief. At the river bank, dark thorns, forms of life that feed on envy. And among such decay, a unique flower of unspeakable beauty and unknown scent, struggles for affirmation, struggles for vitality, struggles for surviving... I strecht my arms (oh, the feeling of impotence!) but I'm blinded by the light reflected by mirrors waved by shadows. "Depart"!

Blindfolded by spider webs, exhausted of running without leaving the same place, awe-struck to trying to understand, I am dragged to a cave entrance. Written with blood, two single words: Abandon hope...

Pity (the sadness)

27 Agosto 2005 

Wandering through this world, invisible as a phantom, suffocated with mute screams, I gaze at mankind (not) trying to understand. Are my eyes cold, somber or sad? Are they cristal clear or just pale blind?

Look at them... Can you see?

I pity the rich, so convinced that money buys it all but always craving for more. The living proof that behind every face there is a tragedy...

I pity the poor, struggling to survive in a material world, living on the edge of despair.

I pity the hard working, slaves of time, never stoping... Eyes always open but seeing nothing of true relevance... Will they be rewarded someday?

I pity the lazy, stuck in apathy, without goals, living day by day...

I pity them all, and I pity myself...

Mutismo cometido, autismo auto-infligido

Mudo, eu grito, grito tão alto que por dentro da minha cabeça tudo explode. Mas a pessoa ao meu lado continua impávida a sorrir, e que tudo vai correr bem.
Mudo, eu grito, grito pois os outros não podem estar todos errados. Mas a pessoa ao meu lado continua serena a sorrir, e que eu é que estou certo...