Poemas

Faux Dark Lady Sonnet

Thou that deserv’st not this mere ink and paper,
Whose wantonness is far and wide divulged,
To my bosom and wit stand’st such a gaoler,
That in my blind eyes all thy sins be purged.
Thy love I seek not; great fool else were I.
But to keep in the private parts of Fortune,
Thy favours enjoy and never belie,
Contents me, whoe’er may thee importune.
Thus am I in rough terms with Reputation,
Chasing none but lascivious Lady Lust.
A guilty delight’s all my compensation;
Still, indulge in foul sin I simply must.
´Tis sterling tender in my witless reckoning
Like those I give thee at thy very beckoning.

Anti-Shakespearean Sonnet

True it is that increase is earth’s old rule,
That mankind thriveth not but by conception;
Think thou though, be not so fond and unschooled,
Any rule is deemed to have an exception.
Thy grace pitifully wanteth the means,
She aboundeth in years that which thou lack’st;
Pity the very babe’s future’s dreams,
Roughly denied for years and decades next.
The sands have not flown back and forth so much
Desperate measures are not in your hands;
Desperate ills must be addressed as such,
And Scripture breaks not thus but merely bends.
Thou deserv’st much worthier babies;
If not mine, then a worthier lady’s.

Rough Seas

The rough seas of sailing and finding love
Are thus vex’d with ill drifts and foulest weather
Sailor and lover turn to gods above
Still they are tossed and tossed such as a feather
Shall safe harbour be ever hit upon?
How many shipwrecks might one soul survive?
Is there any lifeline whereto hang on?
Can one swim to the shore and one day thrive?
No more than Neptune’s and Venus’ playthings
We lose vessel, goods and our petty labours
Yet we long and crave for what Fortune brings
Knowing full well she decides whom she favours
Is it silly to live in this hope, so?
Guess not, all men that live, I hope, live so.

Alas the day

One day you’ll rue the day you mocked me so.
I, for one, give thanks for a bitter lesson.
Henceforth must we our several paths go.
Solitude will be my only profession.
Fool I was to trust those black eyes, or mine;
To construe ev’ry gesture to my pleasing;
To seek a poison’d bloom and hurt in brier.
But my suffering shall not be unceasing.
My naïveté will give way to callousness;
Human affairs I shall forswear for art;
And live isolated in my own counciousness.
Such another endeavor I’ll not start;
Until perchance one true to speech and act,
Constant to a feeling, might come to fact.

Brightest star

Shine forth O thou brightest star out of reach!

To cast thy light is all I thee beseech.

A lume to direct a wandering bark;

A welcome solace when the night is dark.

Venus was retrograde when thee I saw:

Thy beauty put me in a rapture of awe;

But nature must have thee high in the firmament,

And ever be forestalled my hoped contentment.

Teach me the temp’rance to still admire thee,

But from afar, lest thy blaze might singe me.

To think that heaven would itself forswear

And change celestial motion ’s to think rare.

Rest therefore in thy sphere, luminous star.

Thy radiance doth outshine Phoebus’ car!

Fancy

I dreamt the most improbable of fancies:
Two yet unknown saints did argue their cases.
The respectful yet fiercest of adversaries
In human affairs contended their places.
Saint Everlast still boasted of his order;
While Quicksand would praise necessary change.
Quoth one, ‘what is must be, there is no other’.
Th’other, ‘stability to man is strange’.
‘Plato aids me’, cried one’s exasperation;
‘Truth holds above this illusory world’.
‘All is becoming’ was the protestation
Of him who Heraclitus would unfold.
Thus woke I recollecting my impressions;
Convinced I was that time mocks human passions.

Anatomy

What hackneyed image should I now employ
To extol thy unsurpassable grace?
That of flower, angel or such a toy,
Never to do justice to thine own face?
No! None but thy living self is my subject;
And my poor pen must praise thy ev’ry part.
No offence in the matter thou’lt object;
If any, blame the muses, ‘tis their art.
Those deep dark alluring eyes mine so crave
Are set within a frame beyond dissection;
And thy auburn crown rests ever so brave
On the daintiest neck since world’s conception.
Thine are gorgeous arms and delicate hands;
And since mine touch’d thy fingers I won’t sit.
Upon marble columns thy figure stands;
Vulcan with his skill would not forge thy feet.
But beyond all that, anyone can see:
Thy gracious smile is the best part of thee.

Upon Request

Those were the days when we did idly frolic!
When no long road would stand between us twain.
And thy fair bud I would eagerly seek;
A dark cloud of pleasure would ‘gin to rain.
Will that ever be so again, I think?
Time, place and circumstance in agreement?
So thou with thy lips lead me to the brink
And I watch thy explosive fulfillment?
Let me not think on it, it must be now!
No impediment must be an excuse.
Love’s thrice repured nectar shall stain thy brow;
And a joyful rest will our bodies fuse.
Oh, but I dream: thou sleep’st in a strange bed.
Maybe we have spent all that could be had.

Bold as Love

‘I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none’, said fell Macbeth.
And I shall go not a jot further than
Thou dost allow me, upon pain of death.
Say the word and my forces I retreat:
To suffer was my fated lot from start.
But if I read thy looks they do entreat
To heal the wound where an arrow did smart.
‘Tis such a conundrum I put thee in;
No easy way out is to be contrived.
Think’st not thou that to think of me is sin;
Think rather a truer love has arrived.
Let Jove convince thee if my words do not;
At least I know that with honour I’ve fought.

Henceforth

Farewell O my favorite unfulfilled dream!
If Fortune’s a trickster, who else to blame?
Perhaps not a Finis, though it may seem;
‘Tis proven things are seldom long the same.
A beautiful tale of embarrassment,
Of awkward oiellades and very few words;
Fit ‘tis for a belated embracement
And the several flight of two sad birds.
Pains me the thought of having bred thee ill;
Couldn’t be farther from my intention.
It boots none to ask for forgiveness, still;
Let us call it Cupid’s own invention.
´Tis set another ground henceforth I’ll tread.
Do join me if I’m ne’er out of thy head.

Moerae

Until the three Moerae do cut my thread,
So much to be endured and to be done;
And each mischance and joy to lie ahead,
May I take equally, before I’m gone.
When all looks grim and quicksand’s all around;
One being mad the only lucidity;
Do reach for whatever good can be found;
Affect a convenient stupidity.
If only Venus would have mercy on me,
Grant me the wish that is every mortal’s,
Maybe humans’ silly pageant I’ll see
Regardless of their vain petty morals.
This may make but little sense to one’s ear,
But did bring forth much more than single tear.

Light with Mirth

Pray forgive the boldness thus to relapse;
Loath was I to charge thee with more vain words.
But it must be, for love’s heat has its traps:
Those silly verses fell short of thy worth.
Thou’rt indeed a sanctified enchantress,
That casteth light with no recourse to art.
By thy fair looks thou art my blood’s temptress;
Thy words doth show thy wit to stand apart.
May those gorgeous feet that tread the cold Earth
Stroll nonchalantly through my lustful dreams;
Grant those black enticing eyes light with mirth
By the crossing of our mutual beams.
A line in sum here keeps a’lingering:
That my joy can only be thy bringing.

Nought’s Done, All’s Spent

No good is left, when all is said and done;
Too bad, ‘tis right, since I’m done with, and sad.
‘Tis decreed above I’ll be mad and ‘lone;
And above decree that all loathe the mad.
Time it is to lay to rest the matter,
And rest some time, far as my tetter may.
So long my hopes! May they fare better;
Hope my longings meet fairer set o’day.
I’ll venture to accept the world as such,
And accept to venture in such a world.
Nor rhyme nor reason do I perceive much,
But reason to rhyme yet another word.
Come what may, with no one I’ll change chances;
May it come, bear in mind that chance changes.

May Flower

In May she blossomed
May that day be praised
For Flower more handsome
Was ne’er upon gazed

If her graciousness
I May humbly extol
Her good taste no less
Leaves me enthralled

Fairness unsurpassed
Nymph in th’ prime of youth
Refinement unmatched
She is both beauty and truth

May May then
Bestow her upon me
If May I make so bold

I do hope I can
Our future foresee
And a love tale unfold

Beyond

To see beyond a veil

To reach a notch above

To grasp a simple truth

To see, to live, to love

To accept and comprehend

To resign before the facts

To build a fortress tall

Yet open, frank, relaxed

To smile in trade of insult

To whisper to yourself

While the rest of us scream

And hide our brighter half

Maybe

Maybe too late to cry

Yet we can always care

Maybe too soon to try

Yet we can always dare.

Maybe too windy to fly

Yet we can always dream

Maybe too risky to dive

Yet we can always swim

I give myself over,

Give up, give back to you

I lose myself over again

Loosen up, lost in longing.

ST

We’re no big deal

We mean no harm

We may quite well steal

But see our young starve

We’re outcasts, no more

We have our pasts forsaken

Distant gods we adore

We’re waiting for (godot)

The time to come but

God seems not

To set here his home

Fuck the whole scenario

Our hearts still pound

To rythms dat still dare you

Realize there’s more than sound!

Enviroment still brathes

Oil is burned to carry seeds

Seed that feeds pigs

In the world old that grieves

Grieves but kills our children

To take away their insides

Fucks that’re still hidden

Behind their walls and bribes

Golden walls, their lives

There’s ground to be explored

But don’t exploit the ground

For the soil has been gifted

And can’t be fucked around

ST

There is no white whiter

Than the surf on your shore

No blue is greener

Than which your waters bore

Your rocks so slippery

Yet confident steps

Unravel the mystery

Wherever it gets

There are no two skies

So fair and so bright

Even when the day dies

‘Tis still filled with light

Your sands so softly

Scattered ever so even

Caress feet so hasty

Eager to water driven

There can be no other shadow

Relieving as your palm trees

So pleasant and calm a meadow

Would bring a king to his knees

Your sun so relentlessly

Afire up in the sky

Bathes me so gently

Right here I could die.

Coup de Théatre

Elle, un ange qui s’appelle Gabrielle,
Qui m’a appellé du fond d’un abîme,
Ne porte pas d’ailes, est plutôt reèlle:
Brûle mes chimères, partage ce que j’aime.
Sa face, sa chair, son âme sont toutes belles!
Incroyable qu’on soit toujours d’accord
Sur la sottise d’humaines bagatelles,
Des gens qui prefèrent cacher son coeur.
C’est à dire, donc, la femme ideèlle?
Pas du tout, bien sûr ça n’existe pas.
Mais, parmis toutes, je choisirais celle
Qui me laisse être moi même, en tout cas.
Elle, parue comme un coup de théatre,
M’a fait me réveiller pour me battre.

Raison et Déraison

Car l’amour éclate comme un prodige;
Car la grace de tes gestes est ravissante;
Car la beauté de ta face m’en oblige;
Car la folie est une force si puissante;
Car la vie même m’a tellement attrapé;
Car la chair ne peut que se faire entendre;
Car la vraie raison personnne ne la sait;
Car la seule règle d’or nous empêche de feindre.
Car la dernière chose à faire est fuir;
Car la félicité on cherche toujours;
Car la langue ne suffit pas pour traduire;
Car la rivière peut changer son cours.
Je crois, j’espère, je rêve, je prie, j’assure
Que je t’aime comme un fou est tout qu’est sûr.

Lis

Les lis

de l’île

on doit saisir

dans la saison

Canção a Shiva

Quero engolir suas nuvens
E vomitar uma tempestade
Quero mastigar seus palácios
E cuspir saraivadas de tijolos
Quero beber todos seus rios
E inundar o mundo em urina.

Pôr abaixo castelos e templos.
Aos sete mares, aos quatro ventos
Anunciar belos e novos tempos.

Quero cheirar suas areias
E espirrar redemoinhos
Quero escutar suas selvas
E berrar uma ária triste
Quero mudar
Tudo que existe.

Deriva

Desde que fugi para dentro de mim,
Pouco se me dá que o mundo exploda.
Política, esporte, guerra – que se foda:
Levar o circo a sério não estou afim.
Misantropia é meu refúgio enfim,
E com o cinismo ela celebra boda.

Por que dar ouvidos à cacofonia?
Tantas bizantinas e estéreis polêmicas;
Mediocridade e estupidez endêmicas.
Busco, no silêncio, uma sinfonia;
Na solidão, férias da humana agonia:
Desejos frustrados, afeições anêmicas.

Se é verdade que ninguém é uma ilha,
Sou tal como uma Península Ibérica.
Um terremoto que fende a América,
Faz a Califórnia seguir sua trilha.
Um lobo que se separa da matilha
E se entrega todo a sua sina tétrica.

Remexendo meus Alfarrábios

Neste imenso palco
que orbita incansável
guiam-me as mãos de Baco
chamam-me irresponsável

Deixe-os, dizem
Mas há alguém?
Alguém que me acolha?
Alguém que eu escolha?

Talvez as esferas
e sua música inaudível
sejam deveras
o refúgio inatingível

O tempo tapa-me os olhos
Leva-me, leve, à lápide

Ah, não há mais nada,
nada lá fora
uma escolha errada
culpa da hora

Mas e se há luz
que nos conduz
tudo se reduz
a um jogo?

E se aqui, em
meio ao lodo
vivo assim sem
medo do Todo

Virá a condenação?
Ou, antes, a redenção?

Se tudo já foi dito,
lido e escrito,
meu intelecto restrito
é então mero detrito?

ST

Não há modo de escapar
Não nasci para poeta
Por que diabo tentar
Combinar alfa com beta

Larga essa imagem em paz
Que é banal ou absurda
Rimas pobres, triviais
A Musa se faz de surda

Não se meta a declarar
Entortando a linha reta
Outro amor sem nenhum par
Passando ao largo da meta

Não se ponha a elucubrar
Com sua pouca metafísica
Língua rude e vulgar
Abandona a pena tísica

Deixa o ofício a quem sabe
As Letras são arredias
Aceita a mediocridade
Ocupa melhor teus dias

Sem título

Eu valho o peso de minh’alma em ouro
Meu saldo é a soma de sorrisos e lágrimas
Tenho um palácio com teto de vidro
Um plantel invejável de quimeras para abate
Culturas extensas de frutos proibidos
Eu consumo a mim mesmo e trapaceio no troco

Aplico em letras que não serão lidas
Invisto em títulos de poemas sem nome
Negocio ações que ficam só no pensamento
Mil opções futuras sem nunca decidir
E durmo descoberto
ao sabor do câmbio
de uma mente flutuante

Comida de Verme

Nunca me apeteceu ter o mundo em minhas mãos.
Bastava não me fugir de debaixo dos pés.
Pois embora sejam meus anseios os mais chãos,
Tudo em minha vida parece estar ao revés.

Se minha presença tão tóxica lhes parece,
Se o que eu sou resulta impróprio pra sociedade,
Alguma solução um tal dilema merece:
Seja a cessação, se não for a felicidade.

Pois só pode ser punido o único culpado;
E, mais, na mesma moeda que o réu malversou:
Não vem das estrelas o malogro de seu fado.

Mesmo aquilo que o doce príncipe mencionou,
O “país indescoberto”, já foi rejeitado.
Ao nada no fim, como do nada começou.

Em Branco

Cheque em branco pro amor:
Basta-te preencher a cifra que for.
Eu posso entrar no vermelho;
Pago os juros com ardor.
Me faço doravante imune a conselho;
E, falido, me ajoelho.
Nada me faltará tendo teu calor.
Para amar, invisto no destrambelho.

Soneto

As estrelas que lhe emprestam o brilho
Não suportam mais sua usura.
Que credora intransigente e dura
Resiste a rogo por pai e filho?

E cobra juros de mora e multa
Dos pobres astros, já melancólicos.
Um apetite nada católico,
Que a todas galáxias oculta.

Será a bancarrota celeste?
Devedora, a Lua também,
Recorre ao Sol por algum vintém;
E ele já nem sai do leste.

Tudo isso por uma riqueza
Que tem infinda por natureza.

Irônico Universo

O Universo do físicos
Obedece a leis e equações
Complexo que nos pareça
Sabemos-lhe as razões

Já o cosmo das humanas
Cousas, domínio do acaso:
Colisões aleatórias
E nada determinísticas

A mim isso me exaspera
Me arrasta à misantropia
Mas há aqueles cometas
Com rastro de esperança

E é-nos possível crer
Que existirá alguém
Do outro lado da galáxia
Fitando a mesma estrela

Para meu Anjo

O intenso brilho etéreo

de tua alva e suave tez

refletido pela Lua cheia

ilumina a noite do Sol

O delgado e longo feixe

de teus ebâneos cabelos

qual a cauda reluzente

dum misterioso cometa

Anéis Saturno não teria

bastantes para te adornar

A Via-Láctea toda não vale

o mel de teus rubros lábios

Teus olhos, buracos negros,

tragam milhares de planetas

e não me deixam outra escolha

que não ser teu satélite natural

Em rota de colisão

com tua superfície

Incandesço ao entrar

em tua atmosfera

O Universo és Tu.

Álacre

Tomo da lauda pristina
Prestes a louvar-te o nome
De amor com tanta fome
Tão indigna mão assina

Versos tolos, não os tome
Por nada que a muito assome
Mas de lavra genuína

Ah, tu que encantos não poupa
Álacre flor pueril
Tua graça juvenil
Meu sossego de mim rouba

Com teu fogo tão sutil
Lume de menina moça
(Oxalá a Lei não me ouça!)
Tu acendes meu pavio

Não me saem da cabeça
Teus tão formosos pezinhos
Me entorpece como vinho
Tua aura silfidesca

Não te faltarão carinhos

Peço apena teu beijinho

Com sabor de fruta fresca

Senhorita

Me excita, senhorita mistério
Este teu ar sério
Ou como quando me fitas
Centelhas infinitas
Abrasam o cerrado ressecado
Deste músculo tão maltratado
Me excita, senhorita surpresa
Tua fulgurante, inusitada beleza
Me excita teu gosto ao vestir
Ou a desenvoltura em exibir
Pernas que parecem não terminar
Mas terminam, em pés – tão lindos –
que me poderiam pisar
A teu bel prazer, que é meu
O que é dizer eu sou teu
Mas sequer te conheço, senhorita encanto
Como pode que me estanques o pranto?
Isso é uma barbaridade; que seja
Tão longe quanto eu veja
Sopram ventos de mudança
Bem vinda, senhorita esperança.