Time In A Bottle

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that Id like to do
Is to save every day
Till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
Id save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
Ive looked around enough to know
That youre the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
Ive looked around enough to know
That youre the one I want to go
Through time with

Fast Rider

A warrior in a motobike with turbo boost will be a ghost rider that ignite every place he crosses.
Like the river whose waters in its course everything destroy everyone will talk about him, no one will remember those opressing margins.
And the rider will melt souls and minds until the last second of the short run he has, spreading his own ashes to the wind and living nothing more then a memory.
There is no dam to hold him, no water to calm his fire, no hand to caress his soul

Philosopher's stone

They don't know that dreams
are a constant part of life
as concrete and as real as
any other possible thing,
as this grey stone
on which I sit and rest,
as this calm brook
gently stirring,
as these tall pine trees
waving in green and in gold,
as these birds that cry
intoxicated with blue.

They don't know that dreams
are wine, and foam, they're leaven,
tiny animal, smart and eager,
its pointed muzzle
fussing through
in a perpetual move.

They don't know that dreams
are canvas, and colour, a brush,
base, column, capital,
lancet arch, stained glass,
cathedral pinnacle,
counterpoint, symphony
a Greek mask, and magic
the alchemist's retort,
map of the distant world,
a compass, the Infante
16.th century caravel,
they're Cape of Boa Esperança,
gold, cinnamon, ivory,
swordsman's foil,
theatre wings, dancing step,
Columbine and Harlequin,
the flying passarola,
lightning rod, locomotive,
a ship of festive prow,
blast-furnace, generator,
atom's fusion, radar,
ultrasound, television,
rocket landing
on the surface of the moon.

They neither know, nor dream,
that dreams command life.
That whenever a man dreams
the world bounces, advances,
as if it were a coloured ball
held by the hands of a child

Feelings

Is easy to feel the rain and close eyes to the Sun, but a flower won’t survive on forest without both.

Monster Cannot Feel

Sometimes we run from feeling, using any strategies hand near, dump our body, dump our face, forgetting there is always a heart. Each time we suppress a feeling or a emotion we are creating to future time a regret that will stand on heart, without disappear, and will be a barrier to next happy moment. Piece by piece, we build our castle and our prison cell.

Lovely Night

Como se não soubéssemos mais nada, que a noite ia acabar, e a fogueira que ardia eternamente só existia ali, como que fôssemos humanos, ou antes crianças, livres, saltámos de sitio em sítio, sentindo um gosto estranho de satisfação. Se alguém desenhasse os nossos rostos, repetiria um grande sorriso e o sorriso fazia com que tudo valesse a pena, apesar de não sermos crianças nem livres. Mas sonhávamos, e o sonho era real.

The Musician and the Arlequin

Foi junto ao Tejo que te chamei, ao sítio onde vive a poesia do tempo passado e presente para, de novo, partilhar a virtualidade de um sonho.
Dançavas um azul que saia do rio e penetrava em mim como outrora.

Doca de Santos

Um Sim pensado e dedicado às artes, uma noite de poesia, com leituras em directo, do melhor que para cada um existe na poesia portuguesa, e com leituras dos originais dos poetas presentes.
Nem os Crash pontuais dos participantes, os problemas com placas de som, a necessidade de fazer traduções para alguns participantes, e outros imponderáveis, desvirtuaram o acontecimento.
A companhia agradável, os contornos virtuais do Tejo e as recordações de Santos real, da Madragoa e da Lapa, envolveram-me num acontecimento único e muito especial.

To Skaw Girl

White Mountain

Curvado sobre o seu dorso, ouvia os cascos de Odakota e o pó que levantava deixava para trás o desfiladeiro, que se abriu numa planície vermelha, povoada por uma tribo virtual, onde as crianças brincavam e os adultos nos saudavam em linguagem indígena.
Para trás deixamos o lago por explorar, em direcção ao Monte Branco Apanhe, passando por Santa Fé, cuja riqueza de pormenores era impressionante.
A intensidade da imagem, a magia do lugar, a companhia dos amigos, a S.k.a.w. girl, gravavm sensações e emoções inesquecíveis.

Mais Fotos

Will Remember You

Uma rosa Delicada
Segura com Carinho
Embalada na noite
Segura nos meus braços
Entre os campos de ouro
Até cair e se aninhar
No meu peito

A Noite Passada

A Truly free spirit
can live in different universal spaces
can love different persons
in a million different ways
yelling all this in any place
with proud
and grokking each moment, like it was the first
and last