If bombs were sexbombs and guns were "tim gunns", the world would be a lot prettier and fashionable. 

Of all, among aches and sorrow and stumbles, disappointment caused by heartbreak is what ages one the most.

(A) Memory

I feel the touch of silk on a steel bar that I hold on to because I'm climbing up the stairs of the subway station and lately my knees have been quite hesitant to tread in the city life.

Everyone is rushing so stressed, like they're running from an unstoppable train...

Just moments ago, the memories paraded beyond my eyes in a kind of military march, station to station: the meeting point where I finally meet the one; the place where all dreams were supposed to come true and, nearby, the sad horrors houses; the place where all dreams are suffocated; the adventure of the unknown; the station that read "Love" on the subway's carriage window reflecting backwards the station's name and "we were so happy here"; once upon a time a kind of refuge and beautiful citywalks all the way down to the river.

Why does it hurt not having a person anymore?
It hurts because we were happy once.

I met you when you were blind

One day, below the blonde sky,
I thought I heard a lullaby coming from the sea
But as the sun started to peek behind the haze
I could clearly hear the children cry

One day, below the charred sky,
I thought I heard a plea coming from the trees
But as the light trespassed the surrounding forest
I could silently hear the birds who die

One day, below the sandy sky,
I thought I heard a blast coming from the desert
But as the blazing heat waves danced in sight
I could hardly hear the people fly

One day, below the red sky,
I thought I heard shots coming from the buildings
But as the flashes struck my weary eyes
I could vividly hear the soldiers lie

Are you still blind?

Art tries to cleanse the horrors of life from inside you. And all you've seen of so intensively gruesome and all that has been done to you, all the suffering you've endured at the hands of those cruel, egotistical, manipulative and vile persons, will be exorcized by the hand of the purity of a beautiful watercolors' brush stroke.

One of the most wonderful things it's to be able to say "I did this, I overcame this" and, that, no one can take away from us.

There's such beauty in abandoned buildings sometimes..., just like there is in abandoned people, I guess.
But then again "beauty is in the eyes of the beholder"...

My skin barely hanging from my bones
and the music roars loudly and careless.
We are but shallow figures of men;
because Giacometti saw us as we are
and all the extra meat suits we've got
are nothing but lard to be burned
to fill the air with the stench of hell,
just to remind us of humanity's grotesque
and that the Tower of Babel was a flop,
because we're all destined to damnation.

we create not to perish

one cannot disguise the sorrows for too long

the carnivorous music
the misty paintings
the squizofrenic dance
the screaming movies
the screaming words 

I am the dried earth of the past
I starve for water to fill the rugosities in my skin
I will rule upon thirst
I will be the victor of no man's land
not even my own
So give me all the horizons and erase all the borderlines.

Once the fakeness becomes hypernormal, only a rare number can see objectively through it and not get swallowed by it, though the cost is quite a harsh one to pay.

signed: the not aligning.

Can you imagine a hell that is white? And what about a paradise that is black?
I wish for the pure colours, as the bright blue of the Adriatic sea, the white of the Blue Lagoon's minerals mud, the black licensed by artist Anish Kapoor, the red of the heart, the yellow of the sunflowers, the green of a four-leaf clover, the orange of Sicilian mandarines, the light grey misty fogs of Ericeira, the silver of lightnings, the midnight blue of Summer nights.

Ladakh

Rest your head leaning on the big mountain
and dip your feet in the water
Come and see the reflections in your eyes
as our smile reaches the skies.

You are going to get it now
because it's paradise on earth
and there is no shadow of doubt

I think I'm finally going to die
and it seems quite a proper time
for it has been shown to me
that there's no hope
for a happiness that's true.

Thank you and goodbye.

What I regret the most, in general, is to have always put others much more first than myself.
I should have been there more for me, even when it meant not to care for others.
I loved too much for what I was loved and cared for.
But, as it is a no-refund, no-return trip, I'll just have to settle with what I got, which was a lot and could've been a lot worse. Finding true love is rare and at least I got to experience it and know what being happy felt like.

People don't like because when they look at me they see their faults and no one likes to have that weight on their consciousness.
I am the mirror of what they've done. I know them too well and they can't hide or trick me like they do with themselves with masks. I am their blame and they get regretful, and we all know how no one likes to admit their blame or least their regret as it is too corrosive to feel it. So everyone's just looking to escape and so they vanish faraway from me, but they should know to never return.

(+-2014)

What's the next step when you got no shot at fulfilling happiness and you're too tired of pretending?

Missing someone who left you is like feeling a punch in the stomach.

"Smart, healthy, good looking"...
British education and witty humour, and German organization, and Norsemen courage and European-Eastern strategic mind, and Australian love for Nature, and Italian's good looking style, and French savoir faire, and Portuguese adaptability and depth of poetic profoundness, and Hawaiian ocean love and reverence, and Spanish passion, and Japanese care and attention for details, and Chinese capability of work.

The rare, the unique, the utmost beautiful is what the true artist seeks to be inspired and fulfilled - the artist searches for inspiration and fulfillment. 

We were an item, 
then somebody put a code bar on us 
and we were sold in the supermarket.

In the darkest hours, people who love are there to light your way back to love and rekindle the true love and happiness in your heart.

They said I felt too much...
That I cared too much...
And then they managed to make me feel destroyed inside
without being able to feel good things
as they left me dry they just left me with a nice tormented nihilism 
and slowly dripping agony.

Social networks are now worse than grandmas gossiping. It actually became more like grandpas deciding, arguing, on who's won the war and their heirs waiting to see when they'll die, and inlaws just envying and making intrigues.

The beauty of the intangible and the uselessness of reality are in the opposite sides of the world.

the most certain fact: everyday people are born and people die.

One is born into seemingly endless strings of relatives and as time passes, each string cut by time's scissors makes the whole quilt filled with holes and unavoidably empty of living people, till there's no quilt at all.

The Artist

I met The Artist many times till now.
And in each time, The Artist shed a bit of himself.
Once She was knitting with a thread of her soul a piece that was infinite.
Some other time He was building a simple puzzle with a piece of his mind.
The last He and She were seen, they were tearing parts of their heart and gluing them with their own blood.

Everything can be turned into relative. That's why everyone sees reality from each angle that suits them better in that moment.

(old writting on a piece of paper here)

Life's a bitch and then she asks you the divorce. :D 

Why did I take a holiday from Facebook? 
Because I needed a break from all the people's gossiping, backstabbing, badmouthing, criticising, etc. But, wait... that's in my real life too...

I'm a lover of stones and minerals, perfumes, tea, cocoa, art in general and poetry, but only an utter expert in loneliness.

When you've slept with Darkness, no shiny morning will bright your life.

Life has been a hell of a Muhammad Ali to me and many times I wish it would knock me out for good.

The princes of street art have drawn a city in the walls of my heart.

they left me dry

like with a rag they've scrubbed the kitchen floor with
and then left me hanging to dry on the line

and me, I was so eager to fly with the wind passing by.

Somewhere Summer is wondering where we are,
Somewhere the Ocean is calling us to dive,
But we've been too long too far
Just way past cloud nine.

People who haven't been loving you, just don't know what loving truly is.

Disappointment is like a path that was all broken by an earthquake and can never lead you to trust again.

Yes, I'm the most stupid person alive

Suffering since I can remember, since 5 years old, and wanting to die since 13, but stupidly still here going on 35 on 1st September. 

If I hadn't such a long hair I would surely see the fuse of my exploding head.

G, she'll be a star.

She's got Marilyn's tenderness, Vivien's indignation, Lamarr's intelligence, Ava's strenght and Grace's beauty.

one goes from wanting to change the world, to wanting some change (money, money, money, it's so funny...)

All the night we cannot see
All the horror we can't believe
All the tragedy we can't admit
Is still there rooted as a tree
in the planet we cannot perceive
and in the air we cannot treat.

Everytime she phones, he goes to the toilet afterwards...
I guess that's self-explanatory... 

How many times do I have to die before I give my last breath?

The root of the root.

Sometimes I feel like I've lived a thousand lives and all their weight smashed my backbone and glued my belly to the floor, almost drowning me, buring me alive six feet under before time.

When you don't have a childhood you don't learn how to have fun, how to be joyful and happy. Instead, you grow up thinking that you're a sad person, just like there are happy people.

I have a genetical monster inheritance in me that piles up anger, hate and violence, and so much despair and vice, and so much pain and neediness and destruction, from all the generations behind me.

Yep, if I had a spirit and a soul they'd be both free. But instead I've just a body and a mind, both degenerative and as complex as thunder and wine.

I'm just a golden woman in a blue world.

A poem is a naked person's body and soul, that's why I don't go flaunting myself publicly. :D

To be lost and wandering or not...

"Not all those who wander are lost", a line from the poem All that is gold does not glitter, written by J. R. R. Tolkien for The Lord of the Rings

Well, in my case I'm lost and I do not wander.

A Dog's Life, in memoriam

When a family dog dies all the memories of him revive: those endless hours spent in the park, the warm fuzzy caresses, a thousand and one strokes on the fur...
The relationships he had with other dogs and all the times he was afraid or he thought he was bigger than he was and barked proudly at them. The funny episodes and the saving ones, the harder times and the best times of our lives, they were always around.

When he departs he stays where he has always been, in that special corner of the hearts of everyone who had the privilege of enjoying his company, because most of all he was one of our best friends.

(Rex, Zappa, Branco, Shake, Johnny, Eddie)

He had the soul of a hacker, the heart of a gangster and the mind of a smooth criminal.

They had a dark soul and a heavy heart but they could fly like no one else.

So busy doing nothing, that I don't do anything at all.

Sometimes I get the sensation that all the accumulated pain that was caused to me could blow up and cause armageddon.

Deception is an instant killer: it shatters your heart and ruins your mind.

Most people go on with their daily lives living like hamsters in a wheel, apparently satisfied.
Other people can't stop thinking and questioning themselves about what they are doing and what can they improve.
Both of them, though, are complied to go on contributing to the status quo. I guess the bigger picture just eats up everyone whole.

Don't forget that when you share you're dividing to give to more people, so you're multiplying.

Perfection

Why fear perfection so much, when tired of knowing that perfection doesn't exist?

Nowadays, we're more connected in terms of technological ways to communicate among ourselves, more than ever; we can exchange instant messages across the world. And to think that only 20 years ago the Internet was a Sahara Desert compared to the Beijing that it is now...

Always be bold, always be strong...

Don't be regular, always be bold
Never italic, but always underlined.

You are the words of the origins
The seeds of the crops
You are the sky and the sea
And the wind that moves the tide.

Always be bold, always be strong,
for you are the heat of the sun
and the ray of the lightning in the storm.
You are the pure energy that's unique in the world,
Always be strong, always be bold.

Smells like grapefuit frustration as I miss all those two thousand and one summers that weren't lived.

Rain drops sliding softly on the concrete into the night and I wonder why there are people who still think there's a God in this universe probably kind of sitting on a couch in space...

Only in the Cinema the ending is important, because in real life what matters is the journey since endings are always a loss.