The stream (all workshops)
puta de ruas
Minais Gerais
sombra sem lua
movendo-se em vôo
o é que faiz?
quem saberá noite
traição
da sua mordida,
puta de ruas
Minais Gerais
Whore of streets
Minais Gerais
moonless night
shadow moving
in flight
who will know
tonight
the sting
of your treacherous
bite.
Whore of streets
Minais Gerais
Minais Gerais a province north of Rio
pretty as the moonlight,
she gave me saturn's rings,
she shines just like the stars at night,
and other shiny things.
a roller coaster's waiting
and the floor's covered in sand,
somehow she finds meaning
in what noone can understand.
i think we might be crazy,
it must be both, you see,
because you MUST be crazy
if you can put up with me!
a little bit of nonsense
and a magic mustard seed,
throw in a few rainbows
and that is all i need.
Suspend one from the highest point of Kilima
vine down into it's rich soil
righteously rooted is the jazz and jinn that possesses em
one to search the ends of creation
just to hear how sweet it is . . .
to lend ones ear to perfection
the thick rods of bamboo flip to a hit
fresh skins over the magnificence of the Conga drums
slap, slap . . . open tone, tone
stellar horns of elephants tusks
blowing to the rumbling beat
of running buffalo feet
sweeping rites off victoria falls
If I walk slowly now, they catch up with me
I squirm and face the horizon
Trying to avoid
The mildew and mould of the ancient thing
Any whiff of it, a vague and present torture in slow motion
all you've got
is what burns you
alive making .......................................................life
a blur as it goes up in smoke.
the flames wrap around the stars
your breathing .................................................feeds
the luminious
glow....................................................................a
rhythm of your beating
heart keeps the sparks .................................dancing.
eyes have never seen
such a ...............................................................fire.
Didêram
It has been told that when The Host
began the task before it set,
it was Samwiel, of all foremost,
who fain aspired to beget
the shape of things to come and order all. 5
The tribulations they endured
o’er eons would exact their toll.
Dissension left at last uncured,
The Angels each regret the whole,
but vigorous were they until The Fall. 10
slim is the gesture of the night
certain atoms are always calling
scarce in their twinkle of time
I am caught in the distance between them
looking up, my feet are not bare enough
to hold me to the sky
so narrow are the walled alleyways between sight
and soul, the drift of the lights windows
against the shutters of the heart
leaving my love to scribble in the dirt
looking up... as always ...too far away
The wind in March does not
dive into melancholy with
February's prisoners chained
to a grey sky
it does not roar with gaping mouth
nor bleeds into rust and decay
choiceless
in my love for you
I am surrendered
I howl
I am uplifted
I rise
with this peculiarity of you.
Worlds appear and disappear
in our sexual embrace.
We linger here, fully realized.
In the Pencilled Inn…
The pen lies between a scribbled age,
beatles throw scorn at birds in a cage.
My thoughts have gone south with rage,
don’t read what is on the page’s page.
Create a lust even though it’s false,
race your hot blood through each pulse.
Stand up and speak for someone else,
even to berate them with themselves.
Can’t always fulfil wishes of m pirates house,
unfortunate our Mr Fox was a royal louse.
That Ben’s clock never met a giant mouse,
did we his flame as well his anger douse.
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