Archive for the ‘english’ Category

coexist

25/10/2017

there are always rituals.

morning
and night rituals,
rhythms
and daily dances;

you brush you teeth
at 22:45,
right after you shower,
right before bed,
i see you through the foggy mirror
as I walk to the kitchen
to get a glass of water
that’ll wake me up
a bit before dawn.

sometimes,
these scenes
bore me out of my mind
and others,
they save me
from drowning
in this ocean of silence,
in this universe
of anxiety
that’s contained
and crammed
inside
my skull.

in the end,
i’m glad
that we’re here.

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i can’t sit in one place

04/10/2017

0800

hello, friends. sorry for the quick interruption on poetics… just wanted to inform you all that, apart from this blog, I’ve started a new side project on a new media that I am super excited about. this in no way means that I am closing this blog (I’m still a poet at heart), but podcasting is new and fresh and I’m super excited about it, and to share it with you all.

my podcast is in my native language (ptBR) though and it’s called Allowed Cast. you can find it on soundcloud here.

and yeah, I know many of you don’t speak Portuguese, so you probably won’t understand what we are saying (sorry!), but good thing is that we also create music playlists that everyone can enjoy. you can find these playlists here, and play them at the gym or parties or just while chillin’.

it’s a great project, I swear. thanks for the attention. now, back to our normal poetry schedule!

cheers!
– Flavs

all the lost things

03/10/2017

all i wanted was for you to mark me. i wanted you to bare your teeth at me and bite me, bruise my skin in black and blue from my neck to my thighs, and my spine. i wanted you to have me whole, to claim me as some ancient thing from immemorial times. i wanted you to grab me, put your arms around me, encase me.
(i always liked your weight on me.)

i wanted you to write on me so i could tattoo over the words and keep you on me at all times, so i could always touch with my fingertips what i meant to you, all those sweet things – i wouldn’t even regret it after everything was over between us.
(it would inevitably be over.)

“would you want to look forever at it? for other people to see it? why would you want to have it? it was never meant to be!” you’d ask me [if we still spoke to one another]. you’d call me mad, for sure, and hopeless and strange.

but really, how could i mind? how worse can it be to show on the outside what i somehow still feel? how can words to the world be any worse than the thoughts i carry in my head everyday, then the memories everyone has in their souls?

(it’s not painful. here, look at all these poems i already made for you. it is a process.)

a tattoo, in the end, is just a picture: a remembrance of a thing that will always be, a past that was a promise of everything, something i want to show everyone because, wether it failed or not, wether you like it or not, talk about it or not, it is part of who i am. your past is my past.
(the threads of our lives are entwined. bygones are bygones, but it’s all a happy place now, a cozy home where we once lived in.)

i am not ashamed and neither should you be. i like who i am becoming, and you have a share in it. accept it.
(write to me. let’s talk.)

on my notebook

02/10/2017

fleeting moments,
such
a fleeting thing.

i realize
you never left me
a single note
written by hand.

i don’t know
how your cursive looks,
i can’t even imagine
how it is displayed on paper.

not even on my birthday…
i didn’t get a card.
i got a smile
with watery eyes,
but not a little piece of paper i can cherish,
and keep in a box of beloved memories.

in fact
i think i have never
seen
you physically write anything.

and that’s sad
really freaking sad,
because words
are my thing,
are the memories i can keep,
are the scribbles
i’d like
to safeguard forever,
maybe even tattoo on my skin.

math

13/09/2017

our love lasted
for two hundred
and forty five
text messages,
fifty-four
traded pictures,
endless pining
on dark nights
and thirty-nine
undercover kisses.

long distance

28/08/2017

you just keep saying
“as soon as I’m back,
I’ll come and see you”,
but what’s the good
in visiting
if you are never staying?

how long must a lover
make a bed
if no one’s ever laying in it?

how long must a lover
live alone;
always a one,
never a two?

tell me: how is it good
to live a fairy tale
of messages on your timeline,
and never – ever –
hold you in my arms
nor call you mine?

knuckles

25/08/2017

after a long period
of tranquil nights
i dreamed of you again.

i dreamed i kissed
the column of your neck,
and later,
your supple lips.

i didn’t wake up startled,
nor shaking;
not even angry.

i just rose from the bed
and started the coffee maker.
then i got dressed,
got on the bus to work etc.

however, throughout
the day
i couldn’t shake off
one single thing:
a phantom feeling
of your hand
holding mine.

(did you dream of me?
did you feel it too?)

weight in gold

24/08/2017

i am sorry if it seems
like i never listen
or start conversations,
or if you feel my gifts
are consolations
for my absence.

i am bad at saying
what I mean;
baring my soul
and revealing my words
was never really my thing.

it’s all family heritage,
as are the rings
that adorn your fingers.
(as are the silent gestures
that you can’t seem to hear.)

i’ll cover your collarbones
in necklaces though,
as if you are goddess –
i’ll stud them with stones
for every word i keep in,
i promise.

i am sorry if i am a show-er
not a say-er.

you want love notes
and adoring quotes,
but i’ll give you platinum
until you look like an actress.

sorry
for i can’t help it
if i like how the silver
shines against your skin:

the image is akin
to the sliver
of light that enters our bedroom

when the night is quiet
and the air feels right,
in the rite of silence
that blesses our affair.

a note from the author

27/07/2017

hi guys.

first, I want to thank you all for reading and liking the posts that I create and share here. the content is not always good, but it’s from the heart. so thanks a lot for the support.

second, I’d like to ask you guys to, if possible, drop a comment with the link to your blog/projects. I love reading your stuff and debating subjects… however, I find wordpress’ reader downright HORRIBLE, as well as its subscription feed.

thus, it would be AMAZING to collect everyone’s link to update my blog roll here, so I can visit your site, read it thoroughly, and maybe get a dialogue between us flowing.

so, if you are interested, drop a line.

thank you!

best,
F.

how soon is now?

27/07/2017

to me,
the future
is in equal measurements
close
and far away.

others tell me
I’m too young
to be wise
but also too old
to be naive.

I don’t know how old
“perfect” will be, though.

all I know is
that I’m scared
of what I can
and should do,
but also afraid
that what I’ve already done
is not enough.

I have anxiety
that I am not living
to my fullest,
afraid of wasting potential,
yet highly unmotivated
to start new things.

being an adult
is not easy.
no one told me it would be,
but still…

I’m struggling.

it’s bittersweet,
really.

I dreamed of being an artist,
a poet,
an unsigned hype,
had dreams
of achieving a great legacy.

I worked for that,
got me a ton of jobs,
roles and loans
to live the life
I wanted to live.

but now, I am stalled,
afraid
that my adult responsibilities
are slowly
killing my dreams.

it’s a cycle,
a push and pull,
where I embrace things full force
and repel them
at the same speed.

what’s here today,
is actually gone tomorrow,
for
I’m too afraid to really commit
to projects,
to people,
because why invest
time and love in things
that may never flourish
into something big?

I conceal my fleeing
under the premise
that “this is my style,
I’m a free spirit”,
but truth is I am scared
of being dumped, mediocre
and left alone.

I am addicted
to constant validation
and instant gratification
that’s never enough.
I am constantly tired,
unsatisfied,
and often on drugs:
new ways to escape
old things.

thus,
I navigate a fine line
between being neurotic
and grade-a
legal narcotics,
being bad
and being good,
full of excuses.

all I wanted was someone to tell me
how the future will come.

I wanted someone to tell me
how they made it:
how they enjoyed the small victories,
savored the moment
and didn’t get crushed
under the weight
of bills, family, friends…. things!

I feel like everything’s amazing
and yet, everyone’s unhappy
(me included).

i wanted happy people to tell me
how they got to be
really creative,
and not pressured to produce
this day and age’s masterpiece.

all I wanted was someone
to help me bridge
this no man’s land
between my hands
and where they reach.