I have seen …

“I’ve seen love, and I follow the speed of the starlight… and now I select you, slow now I let you see how I stun…”  I’ve seen love, as the aftermath of a nuclear catastrophe. The flurry of fallout particles drifting down like snowflakes caught in my lashes, blurring my vision. When I close my eyes, I can still see blotches of light, ghostly impression of the explosion burned into my retinas.  I’ve heard love, as the ringing in my ears that never subsided. It keeps me awake at night. The sound of love is a dull, persistent hum that drowns out … Continue reading I have seen …

There are parts…

There are parts of me that have died in these past years, some parts slowly, some timely … living out their lifespan, some brutally been put to sleep, throttled by my own murderous hands, I am trying to find sanity in my reality. Some outlive their due time and cling on for dear life… some I let go, some let go of me, but these I buried alive, and so they come back to haunt me. While some parts die so many new buds have sprouted changing the aspects of my personality, I branch out in new different directions… growing, changing, budding, blossoming, blooming, withering, … Continue reading There are parts…

Sharing…

What is it our eyes are scanning the world for? The one being who can see us? Who can look through these artificial imaginary layers and whose eyes can SEE our soul, curled up, smiling, laughing…invisible to everyone else… Is it also our journey to be discovered by another? I can see my soul… why the yearning for acknowledgement to feel complete, to validate my own existence, the need to share to feel truly Alive? Transparent, invisible and cellophane to all, why the need for visibility in at least that one eye… my eyes search externally to seek the recognition … Continue reading Sharing…

His heart…

What he liked most was the mystery of the stars. So in love, all he had to do with that feeling in his chest; he knew he could not even read a book full of theories and explanations — that would spoil everything — he used to think they were just encrusted nail holes in the dark fabric of heaven. Holes that indiscreetly revealed a little of what was out there from his heart… ♥ Continue reading His heart…

Love offering…

There was a time, so many years ago when I sang in our local community church, in Congonhas do Campo city, and whenever the part where a basket is passed around so people can drop what was called a ‘love offering’, we would play a song with words taken from the bible, it goes “give and it will come back to you.” Or something like that. Most everyone, including the people whom I know were so poor that they don’t know how or if they’re going to eat the next day would drop their last penny in hopes of future … Continue reading Love offering…

Conquer the fear….

Conquer the fear of failure so as to attain a great livelihood. Prepare to learn the changing ideology and adapt accordingly with the challenges of life, there upon the act without destroying your values. The true “art of living” is to carve a niche for ourselves by erasing any sense of doubt of facing criticism. Going through the roller coaster ride of life, we prefer to avoid confrontations and stay calm when we are supposed to speak. In the present society, it is important to overcome the so-called stylized version of living and make an attempt to make others around … Continue reading Conquer the fear….

“Man can never …

“Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman’s womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, … Continue reading “Man can never …

When love ends…

Love ends on a Sunday, in a lost corner at the time of a rainy day, forgotten in memory of those who thought they loved desperately and love was only eternal source of life. Love ends up in the arms that insomnia just wants to embrace, mouths that no longer want to kiss, where there is only solitude. Love ends. What ending are some of our expectations and desires, which are replaced by others throughout of our life. We do not change in essence, but we change a lot of our dreams, change our views and needs, especially needs. Love tends to be shaped … Continue reading When love ends…

Memory is a poet…

Le souvenir est un poète, n’en fais pas un historien.Memory is a poet, not an historian.— Paul Géraldy  Cities are smells: Sweet is the smell of flowers, pine, and smell of the wet earth after rain. People are smells and fragrances: Hope is the smell of the cinnamon, mint and the way people hope for better days in daily toil.  I am all skin and flesh, I am lodged in people’s souls, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every cities’ landscapes where I was in. That is how I knew people. They were what I knew, flavor of ripe … Continue reading Memory is a poet…