from here just to say thank you life!

Conectado
numa espiral
provocada apenas por um
poema
escrito em automatismo sensual,
interiorizo
poderoso individualismo,
em construindo
meticuloso e paciente -
desgrenhadamente também -
um dualismo
caçador de talentos.

Stone heart,
Empty room
by Albina.
connections to Mona Cachito
76/77,
late talk till morning
the same powerfulness
the same feeling
"old friends"
we can get high by talking!
Notes

Neste grande parque
o wall garden
esconde os primeiros faisões
cortejando as suas damas,
a natureza finalmente explode e
M. tarda a chegar -
as ausências por vezes
interferem no nosso ritmo
ocupam o espaço de estudo
o fluír profissional do nosso discurso...

E veio
a contenda
e veio o veio -
um parafuso tortuoso escavante -
uma dor funda
perdido caminhando as ruas das cidades a norte
clochard ferido
arrastando os mapas desenhados a carvão...

naquele banco algumas estórias
alargaram o horizonte
rufos
ginastica a oeste
o rio em Janeiro
quente
o esquecimento
reencontro
walcott, Russia
ouro encontrado em datchas de contemplação.

Clock tower
a visita
a viagem
as viagens
imitação genuína
da fuga
curvas,
enrolamento,
fins unem-se
yin
yang
a floresta
o lago
Catalunha
B.

O roubo
chineses coincidentes
japoneses fotografando
o drama
azul o mar
outra vez A.
mantos
mares
o segredo
o nosso desassossego
leve,
leve,
leve.

46 fragmentos áridos sem amor

...e com o regime derrubado
e o poder derramado pelas ruas
lá ao fundo
nas "gloriosas" províncias,
o vazio foi-se enchendo
de festa
e conflitos




a festa essa enche o quotidiano
escondendo muito da miséria
dos desprovidos,
aí encontramos
coracões quentes
e espalhamos a sede de mudança...
também os animais juntam ao bulício
a quentura das suas cores vivas!

Mesmo de fora
entro dentro e digo viva!
os primeiros cigarros
a poule
a fuga à escola
os quilos desaparecendo
e o buço respondendo em contramão,
ai ai
desvios-excessos-danças-em-corda-bamba
sem missa
sem rumo
em desalinho
castigo
75 em casa, almost
e é assim que nunca te deixei de evocar
olhos verdes.

o xadrez da paixão primeira

If they told you I'm mad, then they lied. I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive. I'm the triolet, bursting with pride; If they told you I'm mad, then they lied. No, it isn't obsessive. Now hide All the spoons or I might get convulsive. If they told you I'm mad then they lied. I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive. What Poetry Form Are You?

(I want to share with you this passion of mine, now I'll just go to rest and hear all his music...)

Daddy, please hear this song that I sing,
In your heart there's a spark that just screams
for a lover to bring
a child to your chest,
That could lay as you sleep,
And love all you have left
Like your boy used to be, long ago,
Wrapped in sheets warm and wet.

Blister, please, with those wings in your spine,
Love to be with a brother of mine,
How you love to find your tongue in his teeth,
in a struggle to find sacred songs that you keep
Wrapped in boxes so tight,
Sounding only at night as you sleep.

And in my dreams you're alive and you're crying,
as your mouth moves in mine, soft and sweet,
Rings of flowers round your eyes and
I’ll love you for the rest of your life (when you’re ready)

Brother see we are one and the same,
And you left with your head filled with flames and you watched as your brains
fell out through your teeth, push the pieces in place
Make your smile
Sweet to see,
Don’t you take this away
I’m still wanting my face on your cheek.

And when we break
We’ll wait for our miracle,
God is a place where some holy spectacle lies.
And when we break
We’ll wait for our miracle,
God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life.

Two-headed boy,
She is all you could need,
She will feed you tomatoes
and radio wire,
And retire to sheets safe and clean,
But don’t hate her when she gets up to leave.

Push the pieces in place

Neutral Milk Hotel - Two Headed Boy Part 2 Lyrics
Jeff Mangum

'Be like water making its way through cracks.... Empty your mind, be formless.... Shapeless, like water.... water can flow or it can crash. Be water my friend.' - Bruce Lee


'Be like water, my friend, be like water,
Don’t be rigid; just go with a flow...'
'Be like water' - you asked me. 'Don't hold to me.
I am leaving, so please let me go.'

'Water is shapeless, my friend, water is flowing
Water is moving; and it cannot die...
It may freeze sometimes, when it gets too cold,
But you know, the spring will arrive.'

***
I’m becoming shapeless, I’m becoming fluid,
I am listening to what you say...
I got frozen, my friend, by your sudden coldness
But I’m finding through cracks a new way.

***
Now I am floating, again. I am glowing.
I’m reflecting the sun and the sky...
And sometimes the clouds. And the wind is blowing...

I’m already far away...Just stopped to wave 'Good Bye! '

Be like water, my friend - hypnotic induction
Elena V. Moonray

I possess a thousand thundering voices
With which I call you from the place of the sinking sun.
I call you from the shaking of branches
Where they dance with the tail of the wind.
You are the endless abundance
Singing with the lips of all generations.
You are like a trunk lush with branches in the lake
Whom the feller of woods felled in vain,
But sprouts with new buds in summer.
When it is loaded with fruit he comes again
And eats to saturation desiring to end its season;
But again and again the branches shoot forth with new seasons.

"Abundance"
Mazisi Kunene

I can't resist to this song anywhere I go!

I wish I was a neutron bomb for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on
The Christmas tree I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence I wish I was the grounds
For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro's hood

I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb 'to trust' and never let you down

I wish I was a radio song, the one that you turned up
I wish...
I wish...

Wishlist
Pearl Jam

O sol nasce quase tão cedo
quanto o teu sorriso
na face ainda adormecida
aqui.
O sol aquece
quase tanto
o teu corpo
aqui.
Presente
diz-me aqui.

Your presence
is a constant flow
market full of people and goods,
the onions
the cassava, so white, as my skin

[your smile
is a negotiators one]

the peppers
the garlic small but strong,
your presence
is a constant flow,
shooting star
the sky so close to me.

karibu!

African music has so many variations, so many styles!
(if you want to know more, go to "Links"- showing off!)
There are a few Zimbabwan groups I do particularly like, so I couldn't miss "Black Umfolosi" - for the third time!
They are the favourite acapella and dance group from this country. They involve the audience from the begginning. I know some of their songs so it was great to sing along with them.

“When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.” — Dom Helder Camara





Sinto-me realmente tão fora do meu país
das politicas das amizades
das politicas do passar os dias
do desprazer constante mesmo em mostrar o prazer
da neurose que se respira em tantos cantos,
mesmo a paisagem do meu país tornou-se aborrecida,
as águas poluídas.
Saí de Portugal à dez anos atrás
que belíssima decisão,
tornei-me irmão de tantos outros que largaram os seus países,
parte de uma tribo de viajantes
visitantes de espaços
sonhadores práticos, pululando por aqui e ali.
Somos os hippies modernos
mas
com causas para lutar
com causas para criar
colectores de sonhos
facilitadores de sonhos
apagadores de fronteiras
respeitadores de tradições
criadores de novas tradições
novos pobres novos ricos
experimentadores, cantores e dançadores
recicladores do lixo cultural
sentimentalistas
pragmatistas no amor
entusiásticos
em fazer e refazer sonhos.
Sinto-me bem, tão bem aqui e ali
poder dizer vou contigo agora
estar em Africa hoje amanhã na América!
Saudades nunca desejos sim!

vivam companheiros!

Porque a nossa relação
acontece em constantes intermitências
e porque nos gostamos simplesmente
somos objectivos e líricos
infantis e profundos
sabemos da fugacidade dos momentos
do gosto do easy going
do desfrutar os musculos em riso
da inteligência de evitarmos perguntas mais difíceis
como a história das nossas vidas passadas,
mesmo se o passado foi cinco minutos atrás...
mas porque desejamos tanto tantas coisas,
I offer you - porque o teu português ainda é uma criança -
uma lista de desejos do a.boy. e uma musiquinha da Joanna Newson, penso que tens muito dela!...

1) the first. telephone call from the girl across the room. a sweet
dream. smell of coffee on weekend morning. she whispers your name and
touches your shoulder.

2) second. a quest for direction. the premeditation of ambition. the
helpful, the kind, the response: over there. how we follow ourselves.

3) anger. disappointment. wishes destroyed. the explosive gesture,
annihilation-desire. the necessary but tragic inclusion of loss and
frustration. the blackness of doubt.

4) the graceful movement of understanding. the open door. invitation
and welcome. an unexpected letter from past memories. the reaching-out
across dimensions of time. persistence and continuation.

5) the little giant. the reversal of fortune. perfect fulfillment, the
mending of schisms, reconciliation with the most beautiful. finding
lost words on the tip of your tongue.

6) hoping for prince or princess. lazy requests. cloud nine vacation. a
child's cry. sickness calling for healing. warm touch, soothing music,
dim lights. imagination become real.

7) vivid color. an indication towards paradise. sensual red hair
falling over closed eyes. the stars, the moon, beyond the wild
cosmology of emotions. she will stay and answer questions that have
never been asked.

8) we script our lives.

9) again the Buddha wish. the lack of discipline. the Buddha wish. the
weight of suffering. the Buddha wish. her body, your body, abandon
themselves.

10) the sealing wax of the blues. the channel of passing. perfect time.
everything you ever wanted. everything you never had.

(Symbolic Index of Wishes)

The world is full of goods trains
The passengers are cows
And milk and butter.
And cheese and lovely marmelade
And bulls and horses,
And cocks and hens.
The cow is mother to the milk,
And grandma both to cheese and butter.
The cheese is cousin to the marmelade.
The horse is cousin to the cock
The hen lays eggs.
The egg is cousin to the cheese and butter,
The son and daughter of the milk.
Isn't it strange?
It is.

Kurt Schwitters poem
Sandrine Martin illustration

Arpa
cristal a tua voz
aos sentidos
o que queremos é estar em sintonia
sintonizarmo-nos, amor
e se quiseres vir aqui
a noite vai ser selvagem
e permitirei
os sons todos que quisermos
um pequeno descanso
a ver-te rir
e ver-te a ir
pelo parque
depois de largar a tua mão;
vibrante a tua viola
rouca voz
o vento ainda a soprar
pérola
paz os inimigos foram,
todas as estrelas rodam
e pulamos
o vento sopra estrelas...
Pessego ameixa pera
deitas-me ao chão com a palma da tua mão
agora tudo feito,
na minha alma tudo feito,
a tua viola rouca
solta
só por hoje à noite.

sintonia

A mail received from one of our students, a young girl; she is working in Mozambique for a NGO.
Some of her first impressions - I obviously don't comment or correct it.

Lets make this paradise more paradise
Since I arrived to Mozambique I see this huge gap between paradise nature of this country and poverty in which this people from paradise live. But, should they really need much here? Are pills we are able to take make our lives better? Is it a rule that a person who lives 70 years has to grown into better human than the one who didn't? You,...me...us...We have such a strange tendency to make something that its already good something even better. Get more paradise from paradise itself. Africa suffers, cos our "civilised" ancestors thought its a paradise and decided to own it. Cut the roots of tribes, fill up this continent with strange foreign culture, which even in our space caused lots of troubles and we should be happy that middle ages are lost in past. Africa hasn't reached its renaissance yet.

It's such a pointless effort to look back. But how can be fresh fruit transformed by cooking into something better? How can be peaceful relation improved by its destruction? How could they think they will make this paradise more paradise by stealing somebody's freedom? We are greedy. We think future has to be better, but why we than look back in harmony? Our past was hard, but beautiful. Our future will be better. Our NOW we just have to survive. I'm not here to teach. I'm here to learn. I do enjoy this overfull minibus. I enjoy being sweaty and having my knees underneath my chin, because it's Africa. And Africa lives today. Me too.

Um pouco de texto agora que estou em lugar escondido
em simulacro
em paisagem redentora e simples
sem bandeira anónimo distante de convulsões
poderei dizer que estou em paraíso
ao lado coreia
ainda mais próxima a equatoriana excitação do reencontro
água
e em missão anónimo observo o movimento de vai-e-vem
sou despido de preconceito embalado pelo som de marimbas
sancha
mato não tão distante assim de mim
sopa de Kimpira retempera
e ouço estórias macuas de quem sabe
exploratório
comércio das indias corpo enxuto
sorriso branco enegrecido em contacto
oripa!
bakamelo!
see you tomorrow bonita!
cobra ziguezagueante no caminho do povoado
em chão descalço

do mato com amor

Em messalínicas mentiras
transviamos
nossos passos
de campo plano
a ravinas.
Chispam os olhos em desencanto
vulneráveis choramos
em derradeira implosão.
Mascaras as feridas
em sorriso pontiagudo
lambes o sangue em desalinho.
E então na praia
o sal envolve
o corpo
o corpo abandonado
em desatino.
E em esgar que rasga tua voz
envolves o céu o mar a terra
num choro verdadeiro.

our rising voices choked

Esta a dualidade que objectiva
a direcção em mim
diferenças profundas em idade
um mesmo rio
um mesmo riso
mansidão depois dos rápidos
Anthony em homenagem
ao amor nascido na sala dos fumadores.
A ausência de teus olhos
a ausência de teu olhar tão azul no meu olhar castanho
tortura, sometimes
e procuro-te tento encontrar-te virtualmente
e fui ao teu pais procurar-te
à tua cidade, onde nao deixaste qualquer pista
dos passos seguintes
how is Anthony?
how are you my old friend
from
when we were king and queen of the smoking area?!...

always inside me always part of me

Escrita automatica
auto ban ras
miserável esquadrinha o campo de açucar
tarde no dia dei-lhe a mão
tarde que se fez noite em rápida cascata de eventos
saíramos em tropel do galinheiro transformado em casa
ela chamava-se mona cachito e transportava no regaço um sonho
sonho de partições futuramente equacionadas
magia era de noite
num leito rodeado de preservativos e um bébé chorão
a quinta respirava raves e falavamos de Goa nas noites de meia Primavera
cheguei a ama-la mesmo ignorando que a morte a marcara uma noite em Paris
a morte tocou-me bem ao de leve
deixando uma lembrança que agora me visita e me toma
passa na minha mente Paradiso, magic bus pela noite fora até Madeleine
encontros de seis horas esparsos e fundos
croissants pelas seis da manhã antes do adeus

lembro-me ainda bem de ti

Somos vento
os olhos vermelhos
escapados
cantamos, acreditem,
flores sem limites;
e os corpos adelgaçam à nossa medida
os olhos aprofundam-nos
até à fronteira...
sentimos com prazer todos os musculos do abdomen
infinito, por vezes, pensamos
e gostamos da musica
e gostamos da paixão desmedida
de não nos necessitarmos mais que estarmos
os olhos vermelhos
a paisagem vermelha
as mãos fabricando sabedoria.

fumamos em riso

I've just arrived from town.
I went to Ferens Gallery to see one of the most staggering propaganda movies ever made.
Name of the movie Soy Cuba (I am Cuba)
It was made in 1964 by Mikhail Kalatozov and lasts for 141 mins.
The camera work is extraordinary!
"It's still pushing the bondaries of pure cinema, a stirring and unforgettable experience."
Please, if you find it in DVD, buy it!

I had a day, today
taken from a comic book
a fast, very fast day -

i met a japanese poet
and I was given an incredible box of Sencha tea,
my friend was in a sauna mood,

the wind didn't stop
me and sacha the dog played football

some students visited me
concerned about their studies

from one I heard about his country Israel,
and his first girlfriend that gave birth today.

its time to rest now
slow down this comic's day!

"and the poet shall say"

Cintilas,
a 200 kms à hora,
atravessando todos os shortcuts do parque,
o riso inebriante distende
a passagem por novas experiências nos dias idos;
a vida tem multicoloridos cambiantes
novas perspectivas e dejavues
nova estetica
novo olhar
nova geografia - o teu corpo.


"sky in heavens light the path"

Homme migrateur

Plus vrai que la terre
Plus frais que le vent
Plus beau que la pluie
Plus chaud que le feu

Homme migrateur
Sans bagages ni attaches

Homme migrateur
Sans frontières ni limites

Homme migrateur
Sans enfer ni paradis

Homme migrateur
Homme tout
À fait homme.

Christian Boucher