One easy pieces

Sometimes I can go like
2 hours laid in bed
staring at the ceiling
and listening to Chokebore
LOUD.

Not sleeping
barely thinking
more like emptying my mind
with tons of flowing thoughts.

After I get up
I have some coffee along with one or two
cigarettes
and then I’m ready
- weightless -
Let it all come again.

After All

2009 wasn’t a bad year.

No, not at all.

I came to a new country

hence had the chance

to know a new culture.

I met some people,

some kind of people I didn’t know.

My curiosity about human beings grew along

with the sickness they make me feel.

I finished school

and now I’m being frightened with the future’s possibilities.

I practiced boredom as hard

As I had never done before.

Music has saved me again.

And it’s role in my life gets more important each day.

I watched over 70 movies

and finally realized cinema as an art

I didn’t read much in quantity

yet a lot in quality.

I’ve learned how to love

but most important: how to be loved.

During the process

my heart got broken and then

fixed, because

as no pleasure lasts forever,

neither does pain nor life.

It taught me how to enjoy things

even the bad ones.

To laugh at them,

Until they are gone.

2009 has ended smoothly

as a hot day after a typhoon

right now it’s 2010

January first

03:48 AM, my cast is sitting on my lap

everybody else is sleeping,

the wind blows soft and tells me

that it’s gonna be a good year.

It's enough

I must stop
writing
like an old man.
Or what am I gonna do
when I really get old?
Write about the afterlife?
I can barely write about life!
Right now it’s happening outside
and I’m still on my pajamas.
The youngness on me is not bigger
than three or four boners a day.
Sometimes I even
desire life! but when I leave home
to find it
the streets are dead
or crowded with stupid people who I’d like to kill.
Oh no
I must stop living
like an old
helplessly bitter
sad man.

To the gone summer

"It's just slow days, running into slow nights."
- C. Bukowski

Sun encages everything in its own existence
Look through the window on a sunny afternoon
And everything will seem to be dead.
Even if it winds, the trees just go
Back and forth back and forth
The leaves on the ground slip a bit
And then stop.
The cars, if they exist, are going
Exactly where they should go
At the predicted speed
There’s no freedom
No surprising movement
No inner nor outer life
People are just slowly getting crazy
With their dull tries to kill boredom
While sweat drips from their foreheads
And nothing really happens

Brain's chain

When you really fall in love
It feels like lethargy
Your heart beats your conscience away
And everything is done
In praise of her
You could kill, die
Or live for her

Even knowing that she’d never
Ask you such a thing
You can’t help thinking
That you’re not yours anymore

Which is painfully beautiful
Cause it’s wide and pure
Human nature.
Slavery to our own ego.

Always seeking for words
That amuse us and when
They’re finally found
We could kill, die
Or live for it.
We are nothing
But weak.

Aah, essa natureza...

Eu tenho inveja dos patos.
Dizem por aí que o
Quack deles
Não produz eco.

Eles nunca sabem quando estão sozinhos.

Comigo não acontece o mesmo.
Esmo esmo esmo
Esmo.

A selfish's masterpiece

I know how it all started
It was a hot hot Sunday
Afternoon
god was on his underwear
Lying in bed
Bored
Feeling terribly lonely
No drinks, no cigarettes, just nothingness
And in a big bang creativity explosion
He began to write for company

First he made the world then
dinosaurs
But they were quite noisy
- and cats are much cuter –
Still alone he finally made humans
So he could have some fun with
movies, music, books, porn and stuff

Each person is a word
And our lives is god’s saddest poem
Sometimes we rhyme
Mostly of the times we don’t fit
- So I guess he is not that good writer
But he never stopped writing anyway and we hope
Someday he gets there ‘cause
It’s getting boring.

Oh fuck , I’m god now
And I could create a world or two
But I’m not only a lazy person
But also a good one.