My poems: naming things

naming things

why did you shut the lights?

I was watching the birth of your face

the music coming out of your lips

and now there is only a dance of shadows

who don’t belong

let’s not name our feelings for now

there is no need to scare them away

with words

we don’t need to think about what’s to come

or predict it

the moments will end up discovering themselves

let’s not open ajar boxes

let’s not keep them

intact

we can promise that we will never stay the same

and break that promise

because it is so easy to fall apart

but not as easy as turning the lights on again

there is so much more that we can see

when there is no pain involved

the process of acknowledgement of one another

is completed when we are quiet

and exposed

and everything that can be uncovered

deserves to be

and maybe we will find ourselves that way

when we least expect

and start living at once

because what else is there to learn

about intimacy

that doesn’t force us to be closer?

why should we wait?

My poems: dark waters

dark waters

don’t get near me
you might damage me
and once the damage is done
we can never go back

these dark waters
where you found me by myself
eating away at time
reminiscing
allow me to float
wander
find protection

and I came back here
because somehow
it always makes me realise
that belonging
is being part of a bigger lie

that it is nothing but a haze
similar to the ones you feel
when someone is trying to fix you
instead of embracing you with hope

you will not find me here again
you will not be able to open me with a key anymore
watch me as I dive again
far away from you

My poems: everyday cruelty

everyday cruelty

how much more cruel can you be
how much more insane
in the one-dimensional brain
that exhales nothing but rage
for your humankind

while you hang on to everything you possess
even though it’s only a fallible monetary value
your life chews away at you
as if toying with the hypothesis of an afterlife

and the psychosis that’s been your home
the place where you belong
and suffer
will never wither
as long as you keep staying faithful to your death wish

never mind the self-destruction appeal
whatever you might feel
or whomever you might call
will not be trustworthy enough
to make you comfortable in your own skin

all your thoughts are barred
now that you find yourself
lost
with no reproach

more alone than you have ever been
and more prone to error than everybody else

but you are no accuser
your end is not taking place
you place your hand on your face
you are now a believer
that the truth will come
buried in someone else’s dream
just a word away

My poems: decomposition

decomposition

I want to tell you the truth:

I have been waiting for you
to give me the knife

watch my mind
in decomposition
and open a new door
where you won’t enter
at least physically

watch time disappear
between the passing moments
we did not share

raise your dead hand
in confirmation
and tell me
what’s inside me
that needs to be freed

the truth is
none of these dreams
make me wash the blood off my hands

I have been waiting for you
to erase me

I have been waiting for you
to suffocate me

but the truth
is that the mirrors within
obfuscate
disintegrate
what’s always been concealed
in a black light
behind the closed eyes
the isolation madness

the barrier
where I catch what you said
between portraits and hands
and passion habits

a journey that will take me
to a severed place
which is so familiar

My poems: the spiteful

the spiteful

I close my eyes
when you lie
beside me
during sleep

it is grief
now that you’re inside me
in belief

let’s relive the past
once and for all
and be spiteful

there’s nothing quite like the morning dew
when it’s being swallowed whole
in a sort of darkness
that resembles us

what we are
now that it’s too late to stop
too late to stop the stains
is nothing like a symbiosis
but it is always a reminder
of what might have been

My poems: a road to cross

a road to cross

I built a road to cross
an infinite road of hope
and commonness

at the end of the road
there’s me waiting
the other me
an egotistical self born of pain

I expect certain things to happen
I predict my intelligence will wither
when I cross
and reach the other side

I expect someone to tell me to stop
like someone always does
when I cross

I predict I will find a scar
inside of me
and smile

others will be able to hear
my steps into vertigo
my collapse
the irony of it all

and when I cross
I know what I will find
pointing a gun at my face:
my future.

disappear

aren't we all a reflection of what we used to be

a moment buried in a memory

a dying gift

disappearing

in the shadows

we are not us anymore.

someone else is interfering

with our sense of self.

My published poems: ns

Today is actually a very special day, one in which I share one of my published poems. It's actually the last poem of my collection "Música Morta, Vidas em Caixões". I kinda forgot about this poem for a while because I thought it was a bit dramatic, albeit ironic, but today I was reminded of my own poem by a photo I saw. And I just thought this photo suited the poem perfectly, better than anything else I could find at the time, for sure. So I'm putting them side by side, to hopefully enhance the reader's experience.

ns

law of masks. i'll give you mine if you give me yours.

let's be childish on purpose.

draw your fingers in my hands.
they are yours if you draw them.
let's pretend we know love.

we could watch the damage in other people.
you can abuse me if you find me.
let's play hide and seek.

diddle with werewolves when they sob.

i'll let you be my imaginary friend

if you have a second personality.

let's ask why randomly.

tonight we play with your puzzles and my charades.
i'll share my sins if you play with me.

let's be infantile and kill ourselves.

My poems: old and used

old and used

and we don’t speak now.

we have nothing to say to each other
but goodbye

we have nothing to share
but hurt

when you open your mouth to speak
the world turns to slow motion
and your words come out blurred
like the lines of your face now

there is no longer the usual comfort
you’re slowly becoming painful
like the movement I have to make to exhale the cigarette smoke

the light in our room
is growing darker
i don’t need to see you now.
i can’t see you.

and then we cry.
countless silences between us
instead of love

we’re old and used
decaying
half-blind
half-deaf
holding each other’s broken empire
letting each other down
pretending

My poems: obedience

obedience

when you hear me speak
about the footprints of the world
and everything people leave behind
think about that time
when we sat
on a room with a view
melting in the sun
trying to connect
trying to be obedient again

My Poems: what is happiness

what is happiness

I walk on a bubbly little field
arms open to what I might find
hidden in there

I’ve been taken
by what is safe and sacred
and I’m always returning

beyond my reach
there’s a child
speaking to herself
mumbling words of wisdom

but I do reach out to touch her hand
as she accepts my doubts
and smiles a dead smile

“there’s nothing left to do but run” she says

My English poems: my

my

i hear the pieces of my head
that fall
as the clock ticks into history.

and what is left of my intellect
falters unwillingly
through the inner space.

for when the head is an empty room
of blank conclusions
that break the time

i can accept
that the pieces which now depart
were part of a logic
bigger than mine.

My Poems: Staying Conscious

Just wrote a new poem. Just now.

staying conscious

I sift through my broken pieces,
sip the poison,
shift into something else

I’d better run
before I start feeling conscious

there’s a fire I cannot feed
a nothingness
filled with joy
and I’m standing on a railway
waiting to be found

I’d better speak
before I start shrinking to the size of a drug pill

there’s not enough blood
to keep me alive
I wouldn’t want to take that away from you

I start regretting
the withholding
and
touch
your surface

there’s nothing you can give me
that hasn’t been taken away before
with a stranglehold

I’d better taste the poison
before I take in the pain

and all of this time
I was only
trying
to stay conscious

Internal bleeding

the prison you're in

always looks scarier

than the internal bleeding

that will lead you to your ruin

Visual Poetry: Allegiance

In the allegiance

between you and nature

there is a space between

that can only be penetrated

by your rambling thoughts

and indecision

when you open you arms

to the thin air

that is your life

when you breathe

inside that promise of belonging

you don't think about your lightness

or the unbearable light

you think about the possibilities

the cracks to fill

the strangeness

that is a part of you

you think about relief

and the parable

that is

waking up everyday

on top of the open mouth of a mountain