Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Dying slowly by Tindersticks

I've got memories
I keep them away from me
They won't behave
Won't be what I want them to be

I've seen it all and it's all done
I've been with everyone and no one

So many squandered moments
So much wasted time
So busy chasing dreams
I left myself behind

I've seen it all and it's all done
I've been with everyone and no one

So this dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
This dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself

These worms, darling
They're nibbling away at me
They go at it when I'm sleeping
Won't let me get to my feet

I've seen it all and it's all done
I've been with everyone and no one

So this dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
This dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting -
If I could find the words to explain this feeling
I would shout them out
If I could find out all this, what's inside me

I would shout it out

So this dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
This dying slowly
It seemed better than shouting it out

I make some coffee
Pull on that new pair of pants
I can get so far off
The feeling just falls away

I've seen it all and it's all done
I've been with everyone and no one

I'm just tired, baby
I just need to lay down
I'm just tired, darling
I just need to lay down
I'm just tired, baby
I just need to lay down
I'm just tired, darling
I just need to lay down
I'm just tired, darling

Monday, 29 March 2010

The flickering candle

Daunts me to know there is no peace
while that cinnamon candle is lit,
the startle it provokes on weary hearts
isn't compared to the freight on weak minds.

For many centuries it is told
that the flickering candle is as it stands
whereas all men have grown old
never the candle lost its flaming hands.

Seconds go by between its shivers
and everyone thinks it's its last goodbye
but everyone is wrong and in quivers
because the candle lingers on and on
and no one seems to know why.

All the people who tried to blow it away
even brought auxiliary tools to get it done,
but as their lives strangely started to decay,
they gave up; it's impossible to shut down the Sun.

Thursday, 25 March 2010

good friends, really??

how can you be a friend, a good friend, if you're gone, far, to another country, to another whole existential world?

how can I expect you to be one, when you denied me from that for more than a decade?

in the start of it all: since you've let me down, your whole figure has been surrounded in a halo of panic for me. you've become the boy who pushed me in the swing and told me to jump that you'd catch me, but you didn't, you didn't even try, just walked away and never looked behind. how can you meet someone and after three days swear to her that you won't kiss me, that you won't hug me or even lay beside me?
how could you let go of everything so magic, our symbols, our depth? and like magic it didn't exist. not for you anyhow.

my mistake was to care and to worry about you too much, and letting myself being fooled by you, not only once. just as you wanted, you killed me once and killed me again.
and yet, I guess the second time was more my fault for wanting to put things straight, to put everything to rest. of all men you were the only one that both of us failed to keep the friendship, probably because you weren't ever able to be my friend, always so selfish dwelling on fake pains. nine years ago someone told me you would only gain reason when on the age of thirties... I guess it was right on. I've registered everything and carried on just like every person must do. the only difference is that I have nothing to carry on with.

a broken and abandoned heart is the most inspiring thing for a poet. the most deadly too.

how can you say you don't want to awake old pains, when all your indifference has made me exercise them all, on a daily basis, freezing my whole f*cking life and who I used to be, during for at least 8 years. for you, it might be the past, but thanks to you and your lovely f*cking ex-wives, who insisted on contacting me just to remind me of those same aching pains, I have loads of disappointment and humiliation to last for more three or four lives. at least, I got to know that I was probably the only one of all your friends, who actually had a notion of who you truly were, so incomplete, so much raw beauty to be ever attained. I was forced to know actually, been informed without asking, by, again, your marvellous ex-wives, complaining, saying you don't speak with them much... the irony... so I don't know if it was because of me knowing well to see how people are, or just because of you, opening up to me and being your true self, talking to me more than to all others, especially when there was only you and me and no one else.

well, I've been changing a lot, and I'm no longer loving people and caring about them. nowadays and for quite a while now, I have nothing to offer to anyone. all I wanted was for you to be ok; since the beginning of this stupid sense of saving you, because you told you needed rescue, and I never left you high and dry like other people did. you took away my dreamy soul, my notion that I too could have a family, be part of one, being cared and loved by people in a family, have them proud of me. you've just made a good use of me and refused to be there for me when I was in dire straits, much more dangerous than you. Since I met you, I was hungry and cold and about to die more than twice and you were never there. you were the worst of friends and you've never made an effort to compensate it. in fact I think you should live at least more three times to make it back to me, on a daily basis. because you've insulted me, not only when your two ex-wives called me, but in other things I rather not talk about here, and you're probably not even aware of them. what separates us is not only my, obviously, natural growth as a human being that has always been more fast than yours, but so many other stuff you don't even know yet. it's not the same movie and music mind that would link us, because that's not strong enough; our actions are louder than our minds.

yes, I was once held by you as young and innocent, and you were simply immature and stupid. the damage is such, so very deep in who I was and became, that time past hasn't mend it all, especially because if you relive it everyday it doesn't pass at all, it's just a memory around the corner, just one frustration away, to remind me that I don't deserve nothing and that that's all I'll ever have, whereas this big hole that was carved by your reckless self in the self-esteem of a young and dreamy girl.

still, because I'm not a horrid person, and because I only wanted to make sure everything was ok for you when we parted, I was glad to know you're more aware of things and having a great life though I'm not. there were times back then, when I thought I had a mission of some sort in your life, helping to make it better. some years ago, I was glad my mission was over. to love and care for someone is not the same as being in love, but I guess that was just something, in the midst of other stuff, that you never got it straight. as I said before, my mistake was to care, since your first line written asking for help, and the worst now is to realize that all these years the lines you wrote, namely the songs' lyrics, you wrote the same not only for me but for others too. made me sick once to know you've alienated what we had by exposing it to someone so awful and makes me sick now to know, that just like a fraud, you always used the same victim speech to draw people.
nowadays, I'm not the lost and hurt person I used to be. I feel nothing and I'm expecting the end peacefully. there's no hope for people, in the end we all die guilty. and I want to stop repeating myself, because it's all over and nothing has to do with me anymore, no more people, no more life, nothing.

(um desabafo que eu precisava de fazer, acho/just a confidence I needed to make, I guess)

P.S.: (on 28th March) I'm glad that you've finally gained conscience and also that you're having a good life now. I guess I kind of forgave you a long time ago, in the ways that were possible, the only problem was to forget the traumatizing events that you caused along the way and everything I lost because of them, and that were so unnecessary. It's a pity.

Thursday, 18 March 2010

To kill or not to kill? That was never the question!

I came across a mighty paradox
just because I saw a movie* about the holocaust,
nevertheless, as it was based in reality
it made me sympathetic with the jews pity.

It is acceptable to kill in order to prevent an epidemy,
is it viable to exterminate when there is a plague?
When the word morality becomes so vague
I think it's only because it's flooded by stupidity.

And as the world assisted to its demise
I don't see humanity growing wise
but instead there's just too much darkness.

We all know people are capable of so much harm
although no one ever admitted its starkness 
and meanwhile so does blindness swarm.

 * The movie is Conspiracy (1999)

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

"There is no Race, no Religion, no Class System, no Color, no Sexual Orientation, or nothing, that makes us better than anyone else; we're all deserving of Love" - Sandra Bullock

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

The torture of disappointment

How much disappointment can one sustain, until the burst into a bitterness too great to be extinguished?
I don't know. I just wanted not to become a bitter person, like the women that complain everyday about everything and blame their kin for all of bad that happens.

But I've realized everyone is tortured somehow, throughout their lives. Once, and then again, a drop of blood, just to remind them they're alive.

It's normal to initially expect things from life and as we stroll along its strange paths, we experience that the reality of things isn't quite what we expected and even made an effort for. That's where disappointment comes in. In fact, it crawls in, not announcing its presence, and simply amounting itself inside our hopeful and fragile human hearts. And each time it does, it's like a whiplash in our souls. Soon it becomes like a cat o'nine tails in our back, flogging us without any mercy. And yet, we do not learn how to not expect anything, not desire anything better, not dream or hope for anything else.
There's even the prejudice that being pessimist or too down to earth is bad, and that no matter what, you have to think positive: "smile to life, so that life smiles you back". All this hurts even more, especially when you are not aloud to be sad, to be in woe and everyone just wants to force you to put on a advertisement smile.

Corrupts my loins, making me sick, to hear all this. What the hell does anyone know about someone else's tortured soul?

Thursday, 4 March 2010

So much noise that I can't listen to what's important.

Everyday, I hear people shout at each other:
husbands and wives, sons and parents.
I don't hear the soft moaning of love,
or the tender strokes of caresses, though.
It's quite sad to live in a world filled with noises
from horrid events, like car crashes and fighting,
the sirens of ambulances and the rumbling of buildings,
all these noises making our atmosphere so polluted.

By the end of each day, in my room, as it gets colder,
I hear everything surrounding me, outside, even far.
An acoustic show of splashes of the building's door banging,
the knocks on the floor from the heels of the ladies,
a bit before they get to exit and even after, on the sidewalk.
There's a stream flowing, of buses and subways
and everywhere the peoples' rushes and the cars in the highway.
This river bursting of life is nothing but the dead remains
of everything that was once right.
And another intermittent noise, crawls inside the walls,
sometimes like sand that falls
and other times just water storming through pipes.

Everyday, I have to chase the noise away, but it's hard to do it,
when you're not putting cotton balls in your ears
and just trying to control your rage and fears.
Yes, because, everyday I'm afraid that the noise of the people
will transform itself into a lost bullet or a flying stone,
or the stormy water pipes will reveal themselves into earthquakes
and the building of 13 stages where I live in, on the ground floor,
will collapse on top of me.
Some people might realize I'm paranoid and I do it for a living.
I guess I'm just a person looking for answers in a World that only provides questions...