That end of the day had a jellyfish swarm on the sky, the lights were low and shy, my eyes plucked clouds like cotton and my fingertips died with sandy impressions of a never ending desert.

Love is poison

When all you got to offer is your crazy mind
And your infinite self-giving
 Love is the hardest poison to swallow

Shattered Angels

What wicked game

We play

Just to see

More of the same

What words we say

Just to suffocate

Any chance of Love

And remember again

What we were made of

I think I'm so sad that I could fuel a neutrons bomb just with sadness...

To Say Goodbye

Cherry blossoms will fall
For a thousand million years
And be born again,
But not us, we'll be dust,
So now
that I have no more water
to keep taking care of you
I can finally say Goodbye
Thankfully I guess
I've always been high and dry.

 'cuz impossible love is like two people taking a small dose of venom everyday and slowly dying not in each other's arms.

The Balance

  Hard is the task of finding the balance; in the flavours when you cook, in your drive through rocky roads, in your walk on moving sands, in your dives into agitated seas, in your strolls on stormy weather, and in all your presence in consciousness and unconsciousness.

I hope we'll get it most days, either by intuition or by rationalization, may you find that balance in there too.

Hawking Broadness

 Dear Peter, old sport, it has come to my knowledge what happened to you and, believe you me, when you're forced to put your life on hold for years because of a high number of reasons simultaneously thrown at you and you can't fight the tornado, but can only observe the rest of the world, so near and so far, in the paradoxical state of when you are dying of thirst in front of the sea, the awareness heightens more and more and increasingly elevates your conscience to see the patterns in the colours of the ocean and the pressing urgency of turmoils and relativity of the waves.

They say the world understands us better now, but what do you think? Their forced isolation made them reflect how openly and far, do you think (not meaning our Hawking broadness)? I miss the moments when we were kids and we had the most pure of friendships with a couple of other people that helped a little on saving us from the harshest parts of the world.
And in these last years that you achieved your awesome human beingness and passed on to so many little ones, I got to be so proud of you, my friend. Thanks for that shared joy too.
Friends never say goodbye, only "see you later". :-)

 Half of me is you, in all the colours of the heart, in all the colours of the sky and the sea; half of me is you, whenever it is pitch dark or light, whenever there's emptiness, love or fright, half of me is you.

The Visible Invisible

 It resists through the mystery of the silence 
A love that is always present but invisible
The personality traits come from the brain,
from the heart and from the gut
My asthma of emotions
and verbarrhage of voids

If there weren't other people
I wouldn't know that I'm brown
I wouldn't know that I'm alone

Sick of Virus

 How hard it is to realize that now when I see the word "propagation" my top-of-the-mind word is "virus" and not Love or something else more on the good side.

Who would have guessed that my whole life would be ruined by virus: first starting from the age sixteen (in 1998, the world expo year that was in Lisbon and I could only go to the last day) with catching that stupid teen virus and suffering body damage till today and now in 2020 (the year I was supposed to get well just enough to travel by plane again and visit Italy) with this stupid covid19 everywhere. 

I know I shed away feelings of anger and hatred, but sometimes I really can't help but retrocede again for an instant and really hate this freaking virus. ...........................

Just a shell

 I'm just a brittle shell now, nothing more. 

The clock sets the hour... or not...

 The clock stops existing at the good moments

It only marks the hour of our birth and our death

Which are always moments of excruciating pain for people.

Thank U - Alanis Morissette

How 'bout getting off of these antibiotics?
How 'bout stopping eating when I'm full up?
How 'bout them transparent dangling carrots?
How 'bout that ever elusive kudo?

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

How 'bout me not blaming you for everything?
How 'bout me enjoying the moment for once?
How 'bout how good it feels to finally forgive you?
How 'bout grieving it all one at a time?

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

The moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it
Was the moment I touched down

How 'bout no longer being masochistic?
How 'bout remembering your divinity?
How 'bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out?
How 'bout not equating death with stopping?

Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you, thank you silence

Yeah, yeah
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Glen Ballard / Alanis Morissette

Thank U lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

 Both dancers in the dark, like dented souls that had never seen each other become one at the first glimpse;

Those words like a homeopathic drug, every day, a little bit of the old stinky venom, from the womb to the tomb;

That bell like a ticking bomb on the brain for whom it tolls;

The hell like Dante's inferno, no fire nor water, just nothing rolls.

 Al - Does orange think that it's brighter than gray?
Jo - Yes, he wrongfully does.
Al - Will it ever think otherwise?
Jo - Not likely, because it only knows the existence of itself.

Shipwreck

 Every pore leaks; the subcutaneous bleeds tell off the decades of the obvious abusing slavery; it's from the ship's womb throughout the galley till the shipwreck; no life emerges, you can only see the rays of light crossing the water to the darkness deep as the bodies sink in slow motion like jelly fish giving up swimming.

  You're the memory of warm rain sprinkling my face when I'm swimming in the ocean and the day is hot and everything is faraway. You're the hard sun, high on top of the mountain, bathing the hills and making all animals search for shade. You're the blank wall at which I stare and see myriads of mysteries.

  Remembering all people, with what may seem ridiculous associations, are just frequent triggers of their layers: through songs, their collections, hobbies, studies, works, illnesses, obsessions, jobs, the smell of a soap and the scent of a perfume; the foods, the objects and the people they like. But only the children for their hearts.

(Polunin inspired also)

 Both dancers in the dark, like dented souls that never had seen each other become one at the first glimpse. 

Those words like a homeopathic drug, every day, a little bit of the old stinky venom, from the womb to the tomb. 

That bell like a ticking bomb on the brain for whom it tolls

The hell like dante's inferno, no fire nor water, just nothing rolls.

This is not a poem.

 I'm tired of seeing towers of black smoke and columns of fire, mushroom clouds and no more blue skies in the horizon. I'm tired of having to see oil blackening the ocean and killing everything in an instant spreading. I was already tired of not seeing any true faces and right now the use of masks all over seem just a redundancy.

I want to see the forests and the sea of trees and delve deep into a more pure air than this around me, till I feel my lungs have no incapacity at all. I want to go to Aokigahara and never look anymore at my wrist veins. I need the depression monster to go away and stop haunting me before the despair or the instant insensitivity allows it to win this darkness war. And yes, I need (to go back to our primordial home) and want to dive in the ocean and not come back ever again to land. 

"I'm tired, boss." Very, very, really, really. 

When the days expire and only beauty rises above sadness and joy...

 Have you asked Time to be your friend? Do you believe it to exist just like mankind defines? Your whole life is put in boxes in what seems a never-ending construction site, but as the filing occurs some get lost in the palace of mind. When your memories are covered with the dusty cement and the orange dry mud of the bricks, and you can't see through them, who are you then?

Lebanon explosion

 Polish the shards that were your heart before, when you were young and innocent and no continuous explosions were at your door 

Recoil the small springs of your lungs, even though they're 40% short of breath, you'll need them now to jump over the cloud of debris 

Lime the topsy turvy vertebrae on your back, as your right leg will always be longer and its hip and knee aching 

You'll have to pass through the rumble and the rubble, despite having nowhere to go 

This yellowish-pink dense dust that is sticking to your whole body and soul covers everything your eyes can reach

There is an orange-brick powder now colouring your hair, just like old rust rotting dry on metal 

 I hope your hands, in the absence of light, tap-tapping, can find your loved ones again inside those broken walls before they crumble and fall.

...

It will always be strange to know that you're gone 6ft down under to become perfected dust, when I'm still wandering on the streets looking at the windows shops.

 

My eyes are prisoners of these window bars even more now in the pandemic state of mind of the air and the sun. 

...

As...

The numbers pile up as the collective conscience is numbed;
The vultures come flying around as the countless holes on the ground;
One day it will all be forgotten as were the many human wars between Men or against something of the Other... But right now, millions of people, like you and I, have to mourn the friends, family and human fellows that sudden and increasingly have been falling, while at the same time be grateful for the ones who are still alive and well. 
This is what we humans do our whole lives: mourn and celebrate, and in between count the wins and losses to make sure that we've experienced it all fully till we could.

I'm tired, boss

john coffey in green mile, "i'm tired boss".

No one tells you that caring is good but exposes you to the mean faces of this world, that will only manipulate and exploit you and suck you dry because they are just hollow bodies with empty souls. We who were born and raised in the wrong side of peace, we never get to really live, only survive despite it.
Dearest you, who unfortunately didn't exist but were supposed to stand on my side all my life protecting me and breaking my falls: I'm tired of having to be strong every single day without a day off because I'm darker and in this world dark is bad and dirty and white is good and pure; I'm tired of having to be strong everyday because I'm female and live under the ubiquitous menace of the violent mankind; ... just because I had to be better than everyone else at school and all just to have a chance of not being put aside for the colour of my skin and for being poor; living in modern ghettos with the modern slaves, being seen like less worthy of living, just because of being in a materialistic shallow world, I'm tired boss. And even knowing that me having been strong everytime allowed next generations to not have to be so strong all the time, and even be fragile and relaxed and free and joyful, doesn't really give me hope anymore as I face the fact that they too have became shallow and careless and mean.

Only a vast array of experiences, lived and not lived, but all thought and analysed, can generate true wisdom and put the "memory palace" in order.

Larger than the sky, did anyone made you feel enough as they were enough for you? If so, you probably beat the odds. Maybe one day, before the unavoidable long night, I'll get to feel it too.

Each feeling doesn't exist on its own; it's just the sum of many others, including the opposites. 

Nowadays the only time the window is opened is to hear the thousands of birds singing ever so clearly through the void of the night, filling my heart with gratitude for their existence. 
The moon visited tonight as a remembrance of yesterdays that had their time. 
The cold air of crystal dawns... it brings everything back as a slow motion ocean wave returning the long forgotten familiar feeling of a sweet embrace. 

For "we shall not falter" even though we are tired.

 The birds are chirping loudly, the dogs are barking too, there was a couple of deers on the parking lot and the blackbirds are always visiting too. Outside the world is still wild at heart and waiting for its chance to thrive. Inside the world is pointless and nothing you can do will make it rise.

If I could have a healed heart in a healed world, at the sound of Alice's harp, after all the freezing cold, would I not see Spring again without being a foe, would I not be high instead of low? 

How many lives and deaths fit in a lifetime? 
Art has answered that question and it saves and makes reborn everyday the love and beauty that's inside of you. For you are the Phoenix in life's labyrinth and you shall rise whenever you fall.

 It's hard to reach your skin now, for a thousand years I crawled like a snake in the desert to touch it, to be able to feel its life pulsating through the veins, to hear the drum roll of the ocean against it. 
But no one told me that the long road was never-ending and no one told me that it doesn't really do.

... rage against the dying of the light...

Why rage against the dying of the light? We should embrace it like a loving mistress and the sweet sorrow of delight.

29/02/2020

Covid19

Yes, it is about you too. Because even if you're young and healthy you will become an agent of contamination and people will die because of you passing them virus and contributing to this chain of unconscious murderers.
The only thing is that many of us are conscious and doing the best to not get in this wheel of the disease.
What about you, who willingly don't want to care?