ZenSpy

A poem by Daniel Faria

Sei que o homem lavava os cabelos como se fossem longos
Porque tinha uma mulher no pensamento
Sei que os lavava como se os contasse

Sei que os enxugava com a luz da mulher
Com os seus olhos muito claros voltados para o centro
Do amor, na operação poderosa
Do amor

Sei que cortava os cabelos para procurá-la
Sei que a mulher ia perdendo os vestidos cortados

Era um homem imaginado no coração da mulher que lavava
O cabelo no seu sangue

Na água corrente

Era um homem inclinado como o pescador nas margens para ouvir
E a mulher cantava para o homem respirar

I finally got my mother to get a deviantart page...

so go look at it eh?



Threads-Of-Meaning

I smile


Sonrío

In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment.

Ill wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.

You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
I walked into such a sad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning.

Ill wait in the queue when the trains come back;
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.

At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd.
Consolation for the old wound now forgotten.
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes.
Shes just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.

Ill sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;
Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves.

"Time is liquid. One moment is no more important than any other and all moments quickly run away."
- Bluebeard p.82-Kurt Vonnegut

One of the few good things about modern times: If you die horribly on television, you will not have died in vain. You will have entertained us.
        Kurt Vonnegut, "Cold Turkey", In These Times, May 10, 2004
        US novelist (1922 -)


No one gossips about other people's secret virtues.
        Bertrand Russell
        English author, mathematician, & philosopher (1872 - 1970)

A coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave just one.
    Anonymous

Dare to be wise.
(Sapere Aude)
    Anonymous