Waterfall / Cachoeira (Sunday Scribblings)

Painted in December 2007 while visiting some friends in the countryside. / Pintado em dezembro 2007 enquanto visitava alguns amigos no interior.

Rocks turned into
Soft pin cushions
Massaged beneath
The frosty streams

Of purple shades
And hidden thoughts
While memories glimpsed
A twilight dream

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O Acaso

Samba que samba
Na beira do rio
Sem medo de água
Sem medo do frio

Na vida, uma risada
Curiosa caminhada
Surpreendem-me os destinos
Desvios contínuos

Mostrando-me bem de perto
Que em controle não estou
Tenho força, tenho vontade
Mas me leva uma correnteza aparte

Silenciosa em seu percurso
Lentamente impondo um rumo
Suspirando que pra tudo existe um lugar
E que existe um lugar pra tudo que há


*This poem is about the silent power of chance (if there is such a thing), how we can never be in complete control of our surroundings and how we must not fear the unexpected, for the course of nature leads all things to the places where they belong.

All That Comes to Be (Writers Island)

From where things start
To where things stop
Connecting life
It loops and dangles

If you choose your view
From a certain angle
A pile of shit
Is life on hold

A book with stories
Waiting to be retold
It feeds the earth
That feeds the plants

That feed the animals
That feed me
We’re all attached
To a soil that breeds

Just like the period
At the end of every phrase
A droplet of what drives us
Is much of what remains


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Chlorophyll

Do plants dream?
Or ever sleep at all?
And if I were a plant
Breathing to the pace
Of glaring moon and sun
How would life seem to me...
More or less of what?