A lingering but

Edith woke up with a lingering pain in her but. It was the fourth day in a row she felt something on that spot. She had tried a few different tricks she learned from her mother that always worked miraculously when she was growing up.

At first, she thought it was a mosquito bite and just tried not to scratch it. The following day it seemed to be bigger with a noticeable hole in the middle and she did the obvious keep-it-clean plus Band-Aid. No luck. When she woke up once more to find it even worse and after spending the whole morning going through some drawers, she finally found and used the old MMM: mommy mystery medicine.

But with Edith’s luck, of course by the end of the day the one cheek of her but was twice the size of the healthy one and all around the now even larger hole, it was almost black. In a very desperate doctors visit she learned the infection was on the verge of giving her tetanus, but treatment would take only a week since it was caught early.

Now lying in bed, still half asleep and with a lingering but, she remembered the cause of the wound: she had sat on an old nail that fell from the wall onto the couch.

The phone quest

After a week at home waiting to be called for work, Edith woke up on a Friday afternoon. The phone was ringing but she couldn’t remember where it was, her memory would only take her as far as the living room. There was only one thing to do: run for it, except her clumsiness was always worse in those first hours of the “morning”. She burst out of bed, but before reaching the door her clothes exploded out of the closet on top of her. She had to swim her way out of it like trying to find the surface after being drowned by a big wave. Finally getting out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, it was like the appliances were laughing at her with their blinking lights: why were they all on? Wondering how the apartment didn’t burn down during the night, she quickly turned all of them off. The idea was running to the living room, but that carrot on the floor had other plans and made her fall down. She bumped her knee hard on the floor, but threw the carrot even harder on the wall. When she miraculously arrived in the living room, it was completely filthy and she could barely see the floor. This was no time to tidy up, so kicking stuff out of the way would have to be enough. The problem was that one of those pillows was actually her cat, who attacked her foot like a tiger. Still in pain but away from the cat, she heard the phone ringing underneath the couch cushion. Now the much desired phone was in her hands and when she was about to press the button and answer, a huge crow flew onto the window glass and in a slow motion dance the phone jumped out of her hand, landing on the floor. Gladly, she managed to answer and say a weak hello, but work was no longer possible. She said goodbye and went back to bed.

“The life of the animal is only a fragment of the total life of the universe”. Then what about suicide? A fragment of the universe would be destroying itself? No, not destroying; it couldn’t destroy itself even if it tried. It would be changing it’s mode of existence. Changing… Bits of animals and plants become human beings. What was one day a sheep’s hind leg and leaves of spinach was the next part of the hand that wrote, the brain that conceived the slow movement of the Jupiter Symphony. And another day had come when thirty-six years of pleasures, pains, hungers, loves, thoughts, music, together with infinite unrealized potentials of melody and harmony had manured an unknown corner of a Viennese cemetery, to be transformed into grass and dandelions, which in their turn had been transformed into sheep, whose legs had in their turn been transformed into other musicians, whose bodies in their turn…

– Point Counter Point, Aldous Huxley

We stand

“They kissed good bye.”

Pencil breaks.

“They kissed good bye. Life does that sometimes, you know. You love more than you think capable, but the end is near.”

Sips a chocolate liquor.

“Yes, the end is near. Near sometimes takes forever, sometimes not.”

Reflects on endings… doesn’t accept it has already come. Scratching head. Small sip. Re-reads.

“This time, near has already passed, faster than thought possible. In fact, near has come and gone so fast that it all just feels like a dream: it took forever while happening, but passed in the blink of an eye after gone. That’s how ending love feels. No matter when, it’s always like a lifetime or a second ago. But that’s love, you know?

Your heart gets broken. Yes, every single time. One way or the other, at least.”

Feels like another sip. Needs something else with it.

“It comes and goes as it pleases. Doesn’t respect time, age, color, religion or the like. It devastates. Like a tsunami. Heavy. Destructive. Beautiful. Unique. Every time unique. That’s difficult to understand.”

Turns on the heat. Sharpens pencil. Too much, it broke. Closes the curtains. No light can come in anymore, no judgment. Order of things was actually different.

Pours half of the last can of beer. Familiar smell, now with a whole new purpose. Looks at drinks… sighs. Sipping, we can do it.

“It can be destructive, alright. Something made to be so beautiful, with such dreadful characteristics. Something with such pure intentions and poor judgment. Something so…”

Has no clue of how to finish sentence. Sips are no longer counted.

“Gifts. People. Moments. All that is desired is… it doesn’t matter. Desire does not leave the imagination, anyway.

Desire of the new, exciting, refreshing, revitalizing. Desire leads you nowhere. If somewhere, to the doom.

Desire of happiness: the most dangerous of all! It affects your partner, children, parents, closest friends and most fierce enemies. Desire kills you.

Hope kills you.

But hope is something else entirely.

Talk about drugs!

What’s fashion takes you places. To the bad or to the good. What’s fashion saves you.

If you live your true self, must you succumb to desire, passion, hope… must you succumb to life itself. For life is no more than a dream, and a dream is no more than the possibility of life.”

Reflects upon things written.

“Tears rejoice, for tears rinse. Suffering evaporates, though a salt bond is formed forever. Tears hurt.

The breath is but an attempt to stand over what’s happened. Such doing is believed impossible, as time only progresses. Where do we stand, then?

We stand in he arms of a loved one, in the words of kindness, in the hope of a better future, in the vain words of a failed poet, in the hidden feelings of a successful figure, in the infinite spaces between the universes; we stand tall.

We stand after others have fallen around us, we stand on top of mountains conquered, we stand for what’s right, just; we stand for the possibility of error. We stand against hypocrisy, after all aren’t we all just products of our own nature? We stand for the right of being human, for the humanity of being us. We stand for ourselves, we stand for each other. We stand.

May the most harsh of winters and the most burning of summers, may the spring flourish what should stay and the autumn take what’s done – may them win against what’s human, but may humanity be it’s purest.

Shall we fall before what’s handed, may that be brave. Shall we die upon disease, may that be in our most perfect health. Shall the world beat us, may that be after we have beaten the world.”

Hello…

Get the juices flowing
get the flowing juices
feel the breeze that kisses
lovely lips that seal

Feel the wind that
changes
refreshments
reflections
appointments
notes
promises
paradise
hell
flowing through life
shakes the trees
though routed stand
tall
small

Sense doesn’t make
anyone
anything
everything
sensation.

Love doesn’t add
anything
everything
love.

Half full, half empty
promises
cups, doesn’t matter
nothing counts.
Everything counts!

Fuch the grammar
fuch the spelling
fuck the sick society.

Fuck the false premises
fuck the afterlife
fuck the asshole at the end of the rainbow
FUCK LIFE!

Life for those who fuck;
life fuck those who for
an empty nest return
a lovely lie…
not a lie;
a LIFE!

Good bye
life
love
death

Hello
me.

luminous animal

by Tony Moffeit

the question is: how do you
break free from your demons
the question is: how do you
howl alone the question is:
how do you live your own life
as you please the question
is: how do you free yourself
from the prison of your own
mind the question is: how do
you break down the walls of
this machine of your own
making the question is:
how do you break free and
there is only one answer:
to go deeper into the heart
of the wound to go deeper
into the heart of the blues
to go deeper into the pulse
of the shadows deeper into
the darkness deeper into
the blackness deeper into
the night

like a luminous animal you
shine like a luminous animal
you open the infinite doors
like a luminous animal you
dance alone like a luminous
animal the night fills all
your pores like a luminous
animal you glow from the
fire of the pulse in your
veins till there’s nothing
left in your blood but the
blaze like a luminous animal
you howl like a wolf down
by the tracks like a luminous
animal the only battle you
wage is the one with yourself
like a luminous animal all
you know is what you feel
inside like a luminous animal
you know the secret of
unlearning like a luminous
animal you shine

i want the day to cloud up
i want the leaves to blow
i crave the storm it is the
only calm i know the night
of gray day the darkness on
the edge of the nerves the
wildness of a dance of
letting go like a child
caught somewhere between
play and dream and reality
juggling stars or walking
the tightrope of the horizon
i want the leaves to blow i
want to laugh with them i
want to laugh as i surrender
to the wind i want to be
the calm in the center of
the storm i want to be the
first drops of rain licking
the roofs a warning that
thunder and lightning are
coming to play

you ask me my name my name
is haiti you ask me my name
my name is voodoo you ask me
my name my name is mojo you
ask me my name my name is
drumcloud you ask me my name
my name is raindance you ask
me my name my name is wolfhowl
you ask me my name my name is
snakeskin you ask me my name
my name is bluesmoan you ask
me my name my name is dream
juggler you ask me my name
my name is tightrope walker
you ask me my name my name is
mystery train you ask me my
name my name is jazzflame
you ask me my name my name
is ace of spades you ask me
my name my name is snake eyes
you ask me my name my name is
luminous animal

O céu

A cada respiro, um obstáculo.
Inspira
Julgamentos limítrofes
Espira
Cansaço frustrado.

Coração bate como ferida
que lateja dolorosa.

Para todos os lados
A vista é cerca
Para baixo
A vista é corrente
Para cima… ah!
Para cima a vista é céu!

É céu que as vezes
tempestade
É céu que as vezes
calmaria
É céu.

Quem carrega a chave
É sempre prisioneiro
Pois liberdade
aprisiona.

Como deixar pra trás
o Éden prometido
de campos verdejantes
e fresca água
cercado de amor farpado
e preso de falsa liberdade?

Tentadora a ideia
de uma vida ilusória.
Mas ah!, o céu…

Quem me dera um dia
minhas asas enfeitadas de coragem
pudessem se abrir e conhecer
o céu.

Qualquer coisa!

Corria mais que imaginava ser humanamente possível. À direita o muro mais alto que já vira, à esquerda o perfume mais doce. O contraste era perturbadoramente maravilhoso, enchia meus sentidos com certezas que despertavam a curiosidade de ser incerto. Cada falha no cimento me remetia à imagem de uma pétala que exalava o perfume. Na verdade, os olhos não alcançavam as flores. Mas meu olfato apalpava cada fibra e percebia cada vibração que formava as diversas cores cintilantes. O pólem enchia meus ouvidos e o cimento meus pulmões, numa sintonia que cantarolava o ninar de minha mãe.

Embalado por essa sinfonia misteriosa, corria. O tempo parecia não existir apesar de ser o propulsor das minhas pernas. Não as sentia. Me vi na beira de um precipício gramado, o muro continuava e o perfume se intensificava. As pernas, estáticas. Precisava continuar. O único caminho aparente era um arbusto de espinhos.

Cordas aveludadas de cetim emaranhadas entre si emanavam espinhos de luz e fluíam como ondas, suaves e arrebatadoras, atravessando o abismo do oculto com graça. Era tentadoramente deliciosa a ideia de surfar em sua crista, mas o perigo era iminente. Eu temia. Temia me apegar demais àquela dualidade encantadora. Cedi.

No primeiro passo já consegui sentir o êxtase do fogo que ardia e aliviava ao mesmo tempo. Seu fogo era mais quente que mil sóis e purificava o ar enquanto queimava. Uma brisa fresca também brigava por espaço, incitando as chamas e curando as queimaduras.

Tudo apagou. Acordei.