Ode ao Poeta #2 / The Second Song to The Poet

Vai poeta, vai e publica outro livro
1,2,3 quantos poemas você já fez
Falando do amor por ele e por ela
Reclamando dos desprazeres da vida
E dos prazeres que sente com ele?

Anda poeta, corre e escreve outra letra
Uma atrás da outra formando uma linha
Da linha pra estrofe e pro verso
Falando da beleza do sexo
Explicando os mistérios da morte

Vem poeta, dorme que outro dia já vem
Mas não dorme, não pode, escreve, corre e descorre
Sobre tudo que aprendeu e sobre o que não sabe
Disserta sobre o que não entende
Explica o que nunca viu

Poeta, tu que és burro, que és como a pedra
Que é uma esponja, absorve e solta
Absorve e solta.


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Go poet, go and publish another book
1, 2, 3 how many poems have you written
Talking about the love you feel for him and for her
Complayning about the displeasures of life
And about the pleasures you feel with him?

Walk poet, run and write down another letter
One after another forming a line
From the line to a strophe and into a verse
Talking about the beauty of sex
Explaining the misteries of death

Come poet, sleep 'cause another day will come
But you won't sleep, you can't, write, run and elapse
About everything you learned and about what you don't know
Lecturing about what you can't understand
Explain what you never saw
Poet, you who are stupid, who is like a stone
Who is a sponge, absorbs and release
Absorbs and release.

There won't be happiness

Right now I wanna die
Right now: why to live?
If you are, but not here
If even there, there is no end
No happiness or crazy dance
If by my side you choose no dance
Why should I live, if I am sad?
I see it now, you seek her:
Lady Happiness
She is not with me, won't hold my hand
Never with me or by my side
She is so far, so far away
And you are here, but why with me?
I am not happy and will never be
You try so hard but will never reach
the corner of life that lays inside
My putrid soul, so long dead now.

Words

Words are like a knife, they are like a bullet
Once you press the trigger, there is no turning back
At the point of impact they will do their affair
And when they hit the target it's pain is worse than death

You can't stop a bullet or take back a word
Each strike of a knife will cut through flesh
Each word spoken will reach somebody's ear
And maybe what it's gonna do is make true your most terrible fear

A lost bullet can also kill
A wrong word will bring you pain
Sometimes, if aimed to your lover's heart
It will hurt you instead of them

Poets are like this: A killer with words
Assassin of lives and loves and hopes
With words God made what we shall destroy
But in some of our words you may find joy

Some poems are for love and life and happiness
Created from the heart of a true poet or poetess
Will bring down the fear caused by madness
And raise the spirit of the gloomest and destroy sadness

I speak for me only when I say "I am afraid of words"
'Cause they can cause pain if spoken too lightly
Words are a gift and a curse for a writer
Sometimes they cause doubt if written in the wrong "frases"

I am afraid of hurting my man, for I did it more than once
With words ill spoken in times ill favored
Now I care for what I say because I could lose too much
And I set free the feelings of doubt or shame

If your god creates with words, what does a poet do
When writing a poem in black ink or blue?
He creates his fantasy, his perfect world
For me this place is me, a dog and you.

feb11/2010

My pornographic love

* a poem in english and portuguese



In a time like this where could you be?
'Cause in my bed there is no you
There is no smell, no cum or cu
You might be in a bar or your own bed
In a hotel in a far away realm
Sharing fine linens with not so fine man
Or even to make me mad
You might share your body with women

In a night so warm during winter
Where could you be dripping your sweat?
Not in my shower since in my house
I can't see you or hear you talk
Might be on the beach or sleeping under stars
Probably you are dancing, there, where you are

A song shall be made for my feelings of saudade
I will sing during winters that shall come through my body
But in two weeks, when you are back, and from those beds you have only pictures
I will forget about these feelings and suck your cock with such love
That all those men which may have touched you will simply perish
And all those moments that you may have shared
The dust of time and space will cover

Will come the time you will say "I remember..."
But in such time time I will say "Eu te amo..."
And between your legs is where lies, so sweet and tender
The base in which I found my most sweet "planos"
Then will come the day YOU will say "eu te amo"
But you already said, that is why I can rest.

- For David Jackson, Feb.5/2010

Live and Let Live - for Anton Clarke

You don't deserve a poem
So I won't even start this one
Instead I will tell the history
Of how you became no one

To hate and to lie and to steal and to cheat
Maybe everyone will do at some point
Not you though, since for you
These four sordid things are actual and hot

I don't hate you now, nor wish you death
My conscience is free of burden or care
For you no feeling at all I can carry
Since in my life you have no set

I would say "live and let live"
Be crazy, be anguished
Be the liar you are
Life will make sure that in the end
The bill you shall pay will be more than I ask.

My Secret - Meu Segredo

O Segredo

Eu tenho uma teoria, mas não vou dividir com você
A teoria é simples
O que eu não divido é meu ser
Sou o que era e metade do que fui
Vou e venho e o vento é o que leva
Não divido meu segredo, o secreto esconderijo
Aonde escondo as coisas que eu fazia quando menino
O que faço depois de grande, homem, com barba e crescido
Essas tantas coisas, essas eu publico num livro.
O segredo é a montanha, o Sol, a nuvem que passa
Nuvem não pára, nuvem só passa, quem pára é a montanha
Água também passa, mas passa que passa correndo!
Quem corre também é o tempo, mas esse ninguém pode ver.
O segredo é secreto e absurdo, ele pára e corre no ar
Mas o ar não pára nem corre, então um segredo não há.

The Secret

I have a theory, but I won't share it with you
The theory is simple
What I won't share is my being
I am what I was and half what I used to be
I go and come and the wind is what carries
I won't share my secret, the hidden hideway
Where I hide the things I did when I was a boy
What I do since I am big, man, bearded and grown up
These many things, these I publish in a book.
The secret is the mountain, the Sun, the cloud that goes
Clouds can't stop, they can only go, what stop is the mountain
Water also goes, and it goes running so fast!
What runs as well is the time, but this one nobody can see.
The secret is hidden and absurd, it stops and runs in the air
But the air can't stop or run, so there is no secret at all.

The Poison In Your Veins

There is poison running in your blood
A poison that you offer quietly
A drink to death in the touch of the lips
The poison that you acquired

To offer in silence is to commit a crime
To offer openly is simply not right
You simply offer, not denying
You simply show the poison you carry

You don't really care, since you are poisonous
If someone else your poison will get.

To play with poison is the danger in life
To get poisonous is to play with life
Your poison smells good and taste and feels good
But in the end you wish you never had
Kissed the guy who poisoned you.

by Antonio Sousa
september.26.09