To lay down by your side

How terrible it is to be an animal! A little animal woman. Wear dresses, do the nails, paint the lips, floor stomping lightweight... 
Inside, this animal hungry, desperate, wild, irrational...

Not a good day man... Not a good night... but thank you anyway... 
Why don't you come to tame me? Rip the woman's dress... Rip it!

Kill this hunger that I'm feeling to swallow your ego, to leave you lost, to end with your prepotency, your distant way...

Fuck the false glaze of my nails... 
I have already saved remnants of dead cells from your skin... 
Take this invented color off my mouth, this stupid tone of artificial flower...Make it up full of fresh blood, ajar between a scream and a laugh... 
Take my light and upright way of walking... Bend me, put me in the way you like...

Not good day man! I will bark in your ear if you feel you have the power to hurt me... Why to hurt my heart if you can hurt my uterus? Why dominating my head if you can dominate the small and wrong world I have invented?...

I show myself as a well resolved woman, but inside me there are palpitations, voices of encouragement to the attack... woman's panties marked by so much desire.... 
I need to be taken seriously by myself... I must realize that I am alone, I need to take care of me... I now delay me a little more, just being instinctive...

Looking at you and wanting just to run to your shin like a bitch and bite the entire logic of your coolness...
Wanting to stick you inside me to fill the void of being incomplete...
Life owes me forever, and I owe so much to her...
Wanting to silence the beating of my eager heart with my desperated desire for some minutes of peace...

Forever my silence... of who can not ask, but dies of desire... of who has won, but dies of guilt...

Look at me, give me food that I'm dying... 
Look at me, want me again because I'm fading... 
Or just come and hold me... but forget all those false poems... all those cliché...

And forget all these justifications I give here... 
For a simple desire to lay down by your side...

http://youtu.be/qqTc8BOs9h0

Tati Bernardi

Whoever...The last person in the world

Thia text was written by Tati Bernardes, a brazilian journalist. I read it and decided to translate it to English because those are the words I wish I will tell you the day I forget you, because although I say you will be in my heart "4ever", we all know nothing lasts forever...

But as I am not prepared yet to tell you those words below, they are not for you...yet! 

But I let the text  here for those who wish to tell somebody about that...

When I am able to take you out of my heart, when my mind is free of your delicious voice, and I feel quieter and free from you, and when I am able to vanish and leave you also free from me, read this and enjoy my absence...

I always wanted to understand where all that madness, that excitement I felt came from... 
I have never respected your banality, never understood how I could be so enslaved to a life that , now I can see, meant nothing to me, did not quiet me at all, did not satisfy me, did not plan me, did not end me...

We were with no beginning, no middle, no end, no solution, no reason...

I do not miss your love because it never existed... 
I not even  know what face this love would have. I do not know how it would smell. There is no death for what was never born...

I miss the unintentional destruction that was freezing in your presence(on the video) that now is so insignificant because it was not even you... 
It was Life proving me it was more powerful than me and than my lists of right and wrong... 
It was the Nature proving me it was more obvious than all my beliefs... 
I did not control what I felt for you, I did not accept, did not want and still was daily flooded by a life three hundred times higher than mine. I loved you because of life, not for my sake. And this was beautiful. You were beautiful...

Simply this. You, a person with no poetry, no pain, no words to bear the silence, without a soul to bear just our presence, without time to allow the time to stop... 
You, the person I have still on my mind and taking me away, responsible for all my mornings without hope, without warmth nights, afternoons without beauty...

I miss when the immense distance yet let me watch you by the video, always in a hurry with your perfect shoulders... 
I miss remind that you saw me so much but that you would rather not to see anything, because I was nothing for you... 
I miss your sadness, disguised as arrogance, not realizing, of having neither love nor life, nor patience, nor muscles, nor fear, nor soul enough to hold me by your side...


I promised not to try to understand but just feel, feel again, feel the wish I have always had, the lack of licking your thighs, your smooth skin, your knee, your nape, your navel, your groin, all your dirt. 
I miss the mystery...

The mystery that was loving the last person in the world I should...

http://youtu.be/wRTPwMy3Ge4

http://youtu.be/bzQyzZBMQ8M

http://youtu.be/5NHLsrWAw9k

What I am

I am the toys that I played with, the slang I used to say, I am the nerves skin deep for the college test, I am the secrets I kept with myself...
I am my  favorite beaches: Leblon, Barra, Jericoacoara... 
I am the reborn one who escaped after the assault... 
I am that stunned  love I have felt so hard... 
I am the serious conversation I had with my father one day...
I am what I remember...

I am the longing I feel for my late dad, my late husband...
I am the dream shattered when "whoever 4ever" vanished and the pain for our relationship not having worked , and for the words I told him and I regret... 
I am the childhood I remember...
I am what was amputated in my past...
I am the thrill of a page of a book...
I am the scene of a street that made me cry,  I am what I cry...

I am the unexpected hug... 
The support given to the friend who needed me... 
I am  my arms skin bristling for just thinking about you...
I am the sensitivity screaming, the affection that barters...
I am the spoken words that helps, the shouts unlocked from my throat, the pieces of myself that I have joined...
I am the orgasm, the laughter, the kiss, I am what I bare.

I am the anger for not having achieved what I wished...
I am the failure for not being able to change... 
I am the disregard for the others lies, the disappointment with the government, the hate I feel for all this... 
I am the one paddling all the time, but that never gives up even getting tired... 
I am the indignation when I see somebody throwing garbage in the streets from the window car... 
I am the sting of the revolt, I am what I burn...

I am what I claim, what I can generate through my truth and my struggle, I am the rights that I have, and the duties I undertake...
I am the road that I run after, where I snake, bypass, search... 

I am not only what I eat and what I wear... 
I am  what I require, what I rookie, what I scribble, what I swallow, what I enjoy, what I read... 
But actually I am...what nobody sees.

What will it be? (skin deep)

What will it be?
That fidgets within me... what happens to me?
That flows to my skin surface... what happens to me?
And that goes up my cheeks and makes me blush...
And is showed by my eyes, betraying me...
And that tightens my chest and makes me confess...
Which there's no way to hide...
And that is not right anybody to refuse...
And that makes me a mumper, makes me beg...
Which is not measured, nor ever will...
Which has no remedy, nor ever will...
And that has no prescription...

What will it be?
That happens inside me but should not...
That defies me, which is in default...
Which is like a brandy that never satisfies me...
Which is like being sick, after a revelry...
That not even the ten commandments will reconcile...
Not even all ointments will alleviate...
Not all the sorcery, not even all alchemy...
That not all the saints... what will it be?
Which has no rest, nor ever will...
Which has not fatigue, nor ever will...
That has no limitation...

What happens to me?
That burns me up inside, what will it be?...
That disturbs me to sleep, what will it be?...
That all my body tremors shake me...
That all the ardors come to stir me...
That all the sweats come to soak me...
That all my nerves are begging...
That all my organs are crying out...
And a dreadful affliction makes me beg deeply...
Which has no shame, and never will...
Which has no control, nor ever will...

What has no good behavior...

???


what will it be? (skin deep)

http://youtu.be/F74PXuRZbBw

Chico Buarque

The permanent and the temporary

Marriage is permanent... dating is temporary...
Love is permanent... passion is temporary...
A profession is permanent... a job is temporary...
An address is permanent...a stay is temporary...
The art is permanent...the trend is temporary...
Do you agree? Me neither.

A marriage that lasts 20 years but ends, is temporary. 
We are not repetitions of ourselves at every moment we are surprised by new thoughts that come to us through reading, cinema, meditation. 
What I was yesterday, the day before yesterday is already memory. Ladder won, step by step, but now what I am sure about is what matters, my decisions are worth for now, today is my day, no other.

Love forever... we cling to this illusion so hard!
But not even the love we feel for ourselves endures so long without revaluations. So we change, we have thirst to learn, to improve ourselves, to leave behind our immeasurable errors, our infirmities, our prejudices, everything we did thinking was right but that today we condemn. Love infiltrate inside us, but everything goes on in movement: you, the love of your life and what you feel. All pulsing independently and capable of straying from each other.

An address is not forever, a profession can be thrown out the window, friendship is very strong until it finds an even stronger disillusionment, art goes through cycles, and if all that is sovereign and has supreme value, it is because today we believe it. Today we are superior to the past and to the future, now is when our belief stabilizes, the need is manifested  the will is imposed... until the weather changes.

Today I make less plans and  I do not cultivate so many memories. I do not keep many papers and do not advance  much service. I move myself in a space whose size suits me, I reach its limits with my hands, that is where I install myself and live with the most possible integrity. I get less tired and enjoy myself much more. 

But I do not lose my faith by stating the obvious: Everything is temporary... specially ourselves.

Joy in Sorrow

We can be sorrowful, for may reasons, or for no apparent reason... 
Sadness can be by ourselves or by the pains of the world. May come from a word or a gesture, but it always comes up and we must be ready to receive it, because there is an unexpected joy in the sadness that comes from the fact that we can still feel it.
It may seem confusing but it is a breath... 

Look at your side: we are living in a time where people are killed in traffic fight, killing for a cap, killing for fun. Furthermore, people are broke. 
Who has a job safe it . Those with a love distrust even of their own shadow, since there is a lot of sex supply everywhere. 
And we run like crazy, slave to the clock, and can not even stay lying in a hammock, reading a book, listening to music. There is so much to do that there is little time to feel...

Therefore, any feeling is welcome, even if not euphoria, an enjoyment, or enthusiasm, but just a melancholy... 
To feel is a verb that is conjugated to inside us , unlike the verb to do, which is conjugated to outside us.

Feeling feeds, teaches, feeling quiets...  
Doing is very noisy...
Feeling is a retreat, doing is a party... 

The feeling can not be heard, only auscultated. 
Feel and do, both are needed, but only the "to do" surrenders money, contacts, diplomas, invitations, acquisitions. It even seems that "to feel" has no use to get ahead in life...

A sad person is prevented... Does not fit in the advertising world of toothpastes, parties, fashion... 
Sadness seems to be a plague, leprosy, infectious disease, a prohibited parking... 
Ok, sadness is not really good for health, but when we silence in introspection is a providential retreat, it's when we better talk to ourselves... 
And from this conversation comes out light, lessons, signs, and sadness  also ends up leaving, making room for a new and revitalized joy. 
After all, 
Sadness is  when we do not feel anything.

Martha Medeiros

Half

That the strength of the fear I have, does not prevent me from seeing what I wish.
That the death of everything I believe in, does not cover my ears and mouth.
Because half of me is what I scream,
But the other half is... silent

That the music I hear in the distance
Be beautiful yet sad.
That the man I love is forever loved however distant,
Because half of me is starting
But the other half is...  longing

That the words I speak
Do not be heard as a prayer or repeated with fervor.
Only respected as the only thing left to a woman awash in feelings,
Because half of me is what I hear,
But the other half is... what  I silence

That my desire to go away becomes the calm and peace that I deserve.
That the tension that gnaws me inside be rewarded one day,
Because half of me is what I think,
But the other half is... a volcano

That the fear of loneliness gets away, and socializing with myself becomes at least bearable.
That the mirror which reflects my face shows me  in a sweet smile, memories of my childhood.
Because half of me is a reminder of what is gone,
But the other half... I don't know

That it does not take more than a simple joy to make my soul quieter, and that your silence  talks to me all the time,
Because half of me is shelter,
But the other half is... tiredness

That the art of life points me an answer, even though she herself does not know.
And that nobody tries to complicate, because simplicity is need  to make it flourish,
Because half of me is... audience
But the other half is... a song

That my madness be forgiven,

Because half of me is love

But the other half is... as well...

http://youtu.be/Tn2hVE-EVVA

Oswaldo Montenegro