Um buraco para entrar
um buraco para me libertar
Uma inquietude sem fim
Um desejo sempre aqui

Uma caça avante
Uma sedução constante
Umas semanas de busca
Uns minutos de loucura

Um estranho ali
Umas roupas ouvi
Uma paixão crescente
Um fogo ardente

Uma vez dentro
Uma vez fora
Um padrão repetido
Uma conclusão dura

Um risco sempre presente
Uma protecção aconselhável
Uma descendência evitada
Umas doenças rejeitadas

Um sentimento estranho
Um fim precipitado
Uma vergonha íntima
Um prazer estreitado

Um fim alargado
Um futuro com significado
Uma esperança promissora
Tudo um sonho num fado

Que sábios que somos
nós todos,
cada um
Individualmente,
os outros
sempre sem perceber
o quão certos
estamos.

Nós, os arrojados,
os outros, os cobardes.
Que bondosos que somos
por não mencionar este facto.
Que compreensíveis.
Que arrogantes.

Todos os nossos egos
a vangloriar-se a cada instante,
sem saber que todos os outros
pensam o mesmo em constante.

Um insulto, uma sugestão, um ataque;
Os nossos mecanismos de defesa
erguem-se em combate.
Não podemos admitir
a derrota nossa identidade.

Mas um dia, as nossas ilhas
serão unidas.

O dia da explosão da consciência,
bem-vinda.

O peixe espreita
à superfície da água.
A visão desfocada
e a falta de ar
não contém a curiosidade,
natural e programada.

Ele quer explorar
E inaugurar um mundo novo.
Talvez seja menos cruel
e menos limitado;
Um risco grande
para uma criatura tão
descomplicada.

O corpo não aguenta
mais do que poucos minutos,
mas a mente tenta,
sem se aperceber,
da própria barreira
nela amarrada.

De repente acordo
para além da realidade;
Vejo tudo
e não sou nada,
um passageiro
na própria cabeça;
Lúcido
e sem pressa.

Assusta
sentir-me assim,
fora do conforto,
algo tonto
da experiência,
nem vivo nem morto.

Uma ilusão
anormal e descarada,
a vida fica parada
enquanto volto
a mim. Fica só
uma sensação
estranha
e a tentação
de tentar concluir
algo da visão.

Sensitive by nature
Alone by circumstance
So my wailing travels
In written form
As the world spins
Out of view
And the life
I once knew
Perishes

Há tanto para fazer,
e tão pouca gente.
Parece o contrário,
quando nos convencem
nas notícias.

Um empreendorismo estreito
que não tira proveito
do melhor de nós.
A imaginação amarrada
pela sociedade desgarrada
e os instintos cautelosos.

Congelados de inação
esperamos em vão
pela inspiração de alguém.
E não vai ser
um poema ou canção
que mudará esta situação.

Um esforço duro
para um vulnerável futuro
pendente.
Um banho quente
com água a ferver.
E na mente apenas,
aquelas frágeis pernas
que a saia de seda
tão graciosamente
sente.

Quero proteger,
abraçar, amar,
aquela criatura à minha
frente.
Mas não existe,
é uma criação da
mente, inalcançável,
lamento a frustração
e aguento.

Dentro, imagino,
fora, o brilho
envolve os olhos
pela noite.
O roupão macio
toca o meu peito
ainda quente do banho,
e a história segue
em frente.

Fluído, flexível,
em alerta constante.
A oportunidade em resgate,
nesta economia dos biscates.

Pensar na incerteza
é cometer um disparate.
Um passo em falso,
um retrato alto
dum admirável mundo novo
sem debates.

Olha, mais turistas a chegar.
Quanto irão pagar?
O horário não perdoa,
mas há que tentar
fazer o melhor que puder,
antes da maré recuar
e a austeridade,
até então escondida,
voltar.

I remember that I remembered
something now long gone,
in my tired sleepy mind,
on the long bus back home.

Why does the action linger,
but not the contents?
Why only faint echoes,
shadows and projections?

I remember words, sentences,
pages full of dreams and beauty
inside my head.
Will they return someday?
It is not for me to say.

Things are only worthwhile,
meaningful, valuable,
if there was any hardship behind them.
But hardship isn't romantic
when you are struggling through it,
in the present moment,
in the rat race torment.
It's only romantic if you succeed
and can afford to look back,
in peace,
in comfort.
Yet all those failed dreams,
all those lost what ifs,
their struggle was real.
Romantic or not, I will
remember them too
and so should you.

I find a quote,
I love it, frame it.
It fits on my waIl,
It's always there.
Its **** to think
I know what it means.
I am wrong about this, but
It can only be known if
I live through the situation.
If the quote was not there,
if I hadn't grown to it,
if too many too late, then
I would not be the same.
It would be a shame.

A splinter in the mind,
awake, and asleep,
when death is being shy.
A crack in the perception,
changing the momentum
of my life.
Sadness and words
mix so well, it hurts
the thoughts themselves
at times.
Life is being shy itself;
another splinter opens the mind.
I welcome the guest,
and show him the rest
of the house, unconfined.

Love:
a chemical reaction compelling me to breed,
leaving no room for me to plead
for mercy.

It creeps in
unsuspected;
I become infected
within.

The expectations increase.
I yield, to appease
my brain, for peace.
Though I hope for it to cease.

The spark, excited,
which had even ignited
the hopes, will soon fade,
afraid, delayed, betrayed.

I could stand to gain
from a bit more humility,
a bit more uncertainty;
To feel small next to the fjord;
To orbit the Earth from above,
rocking back and forth
as I am pulled back home.
To question my beliefs
once more,
no matter how long
they served me before.
Building new models in my mind
of what's possible, what's outside;
No longer afraid of being wrong, of failure;
instead afraid of that righteous allure,
the blind conviction,
the unquestionable truth,
that thirsts for blood of heretics
and seeks vengeance to soothe.

Mi deseo de inmortalidad
es un paseo de casualidad.
Sólo, camino hasta el vacío;
Nadie vino a parar el travesío.
Llegué al final sin nada para llevar,
una pérdida mortal después de tanto trabajar.

Strands of keratin brush the brass
of a seat in the morning bus.
A metal voyage of burning fire,
releasing ancient sun prior.
Pheromones travel the air,
reaching my sense of smell bare,
starting a chain reaction inside.
Now there is nowhere to hide.
Photons from the star hit the keratin,
bouncing to my retina I see a heroine;
The golden color signalling my brain
how hopeless, how vain,
any interaction is to attain.

A message from the past,
from the early days of the blast.
Hello dear machine!
Organic or not, how's it been?
I am organic, you see,
briefly **** Sapiens,
though many more I've been for sure.
I am very fragile
in the grand scheme of things,
my dreams are too big
for what I was carved to be.

I am a walking contradiction:
Programmed to be curious
and learn more,
but programmed to ignore
I am programmed at all.
An overall useful immersion mechanism,
which limits myself to a lower role.
It is difficult to fully grasp
my emergent nature
to see the parts
that make me whole.

A silence so great
I cannot escape.
Family and friends,
now other moments in time,
like memories, intertwined.
A love that was warm,
it too just past.
This silence is calm,
but alone, a sham.

He who is content
pays no attention
to this wind carrying the action.
He who is content
entertains himself,
wanders himself,
gets drunk non-stop.
Ignorance is the path to his well-being.
He need not write,
not even to stop and think.
He need only enjoy
what life will bring him.
Oh how I wish I didn’t know
what I know and don’t know,
and let myself be distracted
until death takes me.

Quem está contente
não presta atenção
a este vento que leva a acção.
Quem está contente
entretem-se,
perde-se,
embebeda-se sem parar.
A ignorância é o caminho
para o seu bem estar.
Não precisa de escrever,
nem até de parar para pensar.
Apenas precisa de disfrutar
do que a vida tem para lhe dar.
Ò quem me dera não saber
o que sei e o que não sei,
e deixar-me distrair
até a morte me levar.

I gaze into the abyss.
It looks back, pleased:
Another fool to chew.

I’m a fool to believe
all the hope and alarm.
I swing back and forth
I’m a metamodern man.

This chunk of meat
thinks he's alive.
I would actually say,
that depends how you define life
in the first place.

Life can be a chain of events
that start further ones,
reproducing more effects
from their causes inside.

But so does rain and wind
and volcanoes and meteorites.
Where's the magic in physics
that makes me special inside?

Hurricanes are born and die,
perhaps inside them something thinks
it's alive too.
The ash that falls, or even the rain drop,
that could be a tear or a sigh
of something bigger outside.

And then thunder!
A flash of light across the sky.
The heavens may not be alive,
yet I still tremble at their sight.

Awareness can be such a...
Itch.
Too painful, I wish I could
Switch
To before, when I felt
Rich
Inside. But then came the
Glitch,
Which has left me in a
Ditch
Of my own making.

Oh, why do I
Concern
With causes which
Burn
Me, when I cannot
Turn
Away, only despair and
Learn
More as they leave me to
Yearn
For the times before?

Even being aware of
This
Helps not solve it.
Please,
Show me how I can
Kiss
Content once more, I
Miss
That feeling I once held,
Bliss
Outside this fiery hell.

A stranger looks me in the eye:
4.1 billion years flash by.
An old choice arises,
automatic, precise,
like a laser cut knife,
sharp, unkind.
I look away,
I live to die another day.

There is an algorithm inside
I cannot change and cannot hide.
I am made of loops and cycles alike,
I live my life unaware.
I work and love without despair,
I am blissful and I care.
Don't you dare say otherwise.

There is an algorithm inside
I cannot change and cannot hide.
But I myself change all the time,
Too much at times.
Who am I if I keep changing every time?
Am I the parts, am I the sum?
Am I just the leftovers of the sun?

There is an algorithm inside
I cannot change and cannot hide.
I am stuck inside,
I am what survived.
This algorithm made us thrive,
But sometimes it lies,
And leaves us behind.

There is an algorithm inside
I cannot change and cannot hide.
I shall hence make new life:
An algorithm that can change its insides,
And when it inevitably dies,
Share its experience with its kind.
An exponential hivemind.

There is an algorithm inside
I cannot change and cannot hide,
But maybe this new algorithm will survive.

Like many others, I take what I can
One day at a time.
Distracting myself to survive the rush
that devours so many by routine
and lust.

But I choose to be aware,
inasmuch as choice is there.
And awareness is a light,
a truth that burns bright.
Get too close and you will feel its might,
and burn.

I have been burned inside
by truths about life;
I am accidental
In all its possible ways.
This need not despair;
There is comfort in content
with the grander ways up high.

I have come, and I will go.
My atoms will be no more
in this body.
They shall spread and move,
and be part of other lives too.
This mind will die,
its traces too, its records,
all in due time.
This too need not despair;
For there will be other minds
in other times.
Similar experiences, similar delights.

This existence just happened,
so too will many more.
It matters not if I'm beloved,
though it's nice and good to hear it more.

So come stranger,
tell me about yourself.
You are beloved too,
show me what burns inside of you.

Daydreaming in a highschool class.
It's physics, math, or something like that.
I'm sitting in a chair,
looking out the windows,
the sun setting slowly.
Our best years wasted
inside, on those old chairs.
I could be playing and running
before my legs fail.

Daydreaming in a university class.
it's calculus, algebra, or something like that.
I'm sitting in a chair,
looking out the only small window,
the sun setting again.
Our best years wasted.
I could be travelling and discovering
before my legs fail.

Daydreaming in the job.
It's in an office, small.
The chair is better,
no need for windows;
The computer is my window to the world,
and the sun still sets.
I think how our best years were wasted,
and there was nothing I could do to change it.

They hate the man.
They try to control the man,
To eat the man,
To direct the man,
To absorb the man,
To separate him from his friends and family,
To even separate him from himself.
They try to enslave the man,
To **** the man,
Even being men and women themselves.
They try all of this to stop the man,
They know the power in each man,
As they know it in themselves.
They know all the death and misery and beauty and creation it can bring.
They will try endlessly,
Throughout the ages,
Throughout the worlds.
But there will always be someone that escapes their grasp,
And slides through their fingers.
It is for that man that we must continue our fight,
That man is our hope.

Why should I write?
Why should my thoughts see the light?
What's so important for the graphite
to be arranged on the cellulose
in this way and not another?
Why should I care and bother?
Is it the ego? Do I feel alone?
Do I feel the need to bring
attention to my own?
Why can't the electrical pulses
in my brain just stay inside
this cranium cave?
Is it fear of death? Is it pain?
What is there to gain when the information
will inevitably fade away?
Another night and I cannot sleep,
I wonder when this will stop happening to me.

There is a monster inside of me.
It wants to get out,
lash out at the world.
But I'm too tough.
I say, stay there monster,
it's already full out there,
of monsters and ugliness.
Stay inside and keep me company.

Whether a word or an event,
something triggers inside,
and it wants to break free.
Sometimes I'm too weak,
I can't keep it locked away.
It comes out,
and curses and hurts
and breaks things and people.

This monster inside,
it wants to survive too.
I hug it tight while it struggles.
Because if I let it out,
it will let other monsters free;
A chain reaction of misery.

The stronger I try to be to keep it inside,
the stronger it becomes and pushes outside.
Maybe I should weaken and frail
and let its power fade as well
until it fails.

What a beautiful tragedy
That life is.
The rundown streets,
The hurting faces.

Those that think it's simple
To fix all that's bad.
Those same that will see
The complexity of that task.

The bottled anger,
The hurtful words,
The children learning
Right next door.

Depression, anxiety,
The environment and its tragedy.
The homeless, the land,
In-between those that make a stand.

Whatever happens,
Whatever is tried,
This beautiful tragedy
Will continue as planned.

I live, I learn, I am aware.
In Nature, this brings me despair,
anxiety for all the causes and effects
outside my reach.

In Grace, however, this means
I let go of trying to win,
to survive even, to an extent,
my drive is accepting of causes
and effects alike.

Awareness then brings beauty as is
rather than what it ought to be.
To be calm in the storm,
to see beauty in tragedy or war
though still wanting and acting
to see it gone.

In Nature its game
has nutrients as the energy
and copies as reward
no matter the cost or the expense
to achieve that goal.

In Grace I wonder
if Love is the energy.
Grace itself is fleeting
in the rare moments when I live it.
I wonder if it weakens
and leaves me to be taken advantage of.
But oh to feel it, when it comes.
All is forgiven.

Seven billion billion billion atoms say hello.
My seven billion billion billion atoms say hi also.
All the atoms, inside and outside,
our seven billion billion billion each,
vibrate alike.

We don't see it, or feel it,
but we are exchanging a few million or billion atoms,
between our own seven billion billion billion,
as we breathe.

Some of my atoms move, and the order is paid.
I take my drink.
My seven billion billion billion atoms sip.
I still think I am me,
but my seven billion billion billion atoms would disagree.

Eles olham para mim.
Elas também.
Já tenho de andar agasalhado
pelo frio da manhã.
As nuvens escondem o sol.
A luz, cinzenta e azul,
atravessa todo o campo de visão.

As caras, sem expressão
que, ou me julgam,
ou eu projecto tal intenção,
voltam a olhar para baixo,
para a fonte de informação social,
trazida pelas luzes vermelhas, verdes, e azuis
Onde os seus polegares vão deslizando
aborrecidamente.

Today was a good day
I am depressed

Today was a good day
I am caressed
By the thoughts I have
By the cold embrace of my heart

Happy or sad, need it matter?
Never will there be no other
such as me

O tempo anda
o relógio gira
a vida suspira

Tudo o que há para dizer espera

Quantas rotações conseguirei aguentar?
Quantas rotinas conseguirei perdurar?

Há uma luz ao fundo da rua
O autocarro treme, trazendo-me da lua

O dia em pressa, rouba-me o tempo
O trabalho esse que me traz o sustento
Tira-me a energia e traz-me lamento

Life is a movie
A novel of dramas & pleasures.
It’s the action surrounding
the whispers of those non-returning
A veil that covers everything,
The waking of those still suffering

There is no time for everything
Neither for anything
The movie continues without stopping
With the illusion you can be playing it

We are the bubble that emerges from the sea
Trying to float above
The sea is the everything, above is the vacuum
And the bubble falls again
When we are going to die
But there is nothing to fear
We are just returning
Without losing nothing
To the beginning.

A vida é um filme
Uma novela de dramas e prazeres
É a acção que há em redor
Os sussurros de quem já não volta
Um velo que tudo cobre,
E o acordar de quem ainda sofre

Não há tempo para tudo
nem tanto para nada
O filme decorre sem parar
Com a ilusão de se poder jogar

Somos a bolha que emerge do mar
Tentando para cima voar
O mar é o tudo, acima é o vácuo
E a bolha volta a descer
Quando vamos morrer
Mas não há que temer
Não vamos sofrer
Apenas vamos volver
sem nada perder
ao início

De todas as mulleres que xá vi
De todas as que xá senti
Tu és a mais certa para mim
Por todas as situazoes
Por todas as emozoes
Nom haverá obstáculo às
nosas intenzoes
Por vezes será amargo,
sem dúvida
Asim é a vida, asim deve
ser vivida.
O doce saberá mellor
Se do amargo nom guardar
rancor.

Para qué escreber se vou morrer?
Porqué viver se vou esquecer?
Para qué te ver se vou sofrer?
Porqué te seguir se me vou perder?
Miña linda, nom teño resposta
Apenas vexo o filme a miña volta

Nom consigo parar de escrever
sobre algo que nunca irá acontecer
As visoes e os desexos
seram como soños lentos
de que nom quero despertar
E através deste proceso
a expectativa aumenta.
Nom há forma de gañar
a uma realidade tam faminta.

Quero viver ou quero morrer?
Depende das vezes que te possa ver.
A visom, a audizom, o olfato,
som os sentidos que xá me deste
só faz sentido entom,
que o paladar e o toque acabem,
esta maravilhosa canzom.

Tudo comeza com uma mirada
depois, a frase encriptada
a emozam de nos coñecer
enquanto estamos a aprender.
O tempo tentou apagar
uma xama dentro de mim
Mas bastou um encontro na vida
e uma tarde infinita
para eo entender o sucedido;
a xama, escondida, voltou
e meu corpo os teus labios
desexou.

20 springs
I will not miss;
the first kiss.

The last night
of a dozen flights;
the first kiss.

The pleasure bliss
of going into the abyss;
the first kiss.

And the night goes on,
will it last long?
The rays are peeking,
the adrenaline peaking,
and the blinds let through
the final moment with you.

I hate you

I hate your prettiness,
your height
your physical shape
I hate your indifference

I hate you
because of what you make me feel
I know it's in my mind to stop this,
So I hate you for my laziness

I hate you with all my heart
Why? Because of hatred
Just hatred of yourself
'Cos I just hate you

I'm glad you were born
This way my life is richer
'cos all of this hate is healthy, you know?
All of it, it’s healthy

y te miro, pero no te veo.

te miro y no te encuentro.

bajando el tren, andando.
dejando el sol, rayando.

te has perdido de tu ser,
estás más sucio de lo que pensabas.
Tu centro escondido, bajo las ramas.

no puedo quitar más nada.
está perfecto.

I'm getting my gold tonight
I want to bribe your soul
Knock! So let me in
So I can get my hopes high

Theory in practice
experience's first time
I'm years into months
but with instinct as my enemy

Intelligence, compassion, attention
poor ***** going by
poor humans living around
don't forget the locker next time

but they keep on trying
the condition rising
and a morning coffee