Out the veranda / Da varanda

Around 5:30 in the morning / Por volta das 5:30 da manha

Em busca / In search

Nossa busca pelA resposta, é perceber que a resposta é o dilemma. E que o sustento da monção enraíza a problematicidade*. Então enquanto há problemas, buscamos suas respostas, mas se gostamos de respostas, é por causa dos problemas, então o que gostamos mesmo é de problemas, e a máquina da vida é uma perfeita máquina de problemas. Sorrindo a nossa inata capacidade por respostas, nasce a escolha, pois mesmo que o chão esteja posto, há tantos caminhos a serem trilhados quanto nossa abilidade por gerá-los.

*de toda sorte, sendo um dos mais básico a busca pela próxima refeição.


Our quest for The answer, is to foresee that such an answer is its dilemma. And that the basis of motion is rooted on problemicity*. So while there are problems, we seek answers, but if we like answers, it's because of the problems, so what we really like are problems, and the mechanism of life is a perfect streamline of them. Smiling at are innate capacity for answers, so choice is born, coz’ even though the ground is laid, there are as many pathways to be followed as our ability to concieve.

*of any kind, being one of the most basics a quest for the next meal.

Definition in an Open Canvas

Most people don't know what to do
So they do what they're told
Others don't know what to say
And follow careless ways

I listen and reply
Proposing paths

My commitment to truth
Is to sync with nature's virtues
so I respect the system
And it guides my strings

Affirmation’s path

Step on step up ladder’s way
Feet grow stim with each new day

Self-examined growth
Is an endless will to give

And live life to its fullest
Like air balloons inflate to whistle

if I stood still i’d still be moving

``

It's quite a lesson in
To take a mistake for what it is
To not exclude it from the process
that indites us to be we

Mistakes may be misjudgment
of a cause that's pure in essence
But we can do it our will

So good will I will

Let it be

If not a single soul were to be found
On the face of Mars
I’d still cherish me, and put me to bed
And tell me it’s all right
coz’ I never leave my side

but god am I glad
To see true-hearteds
Sharing their joy,
to the sun and the breeze

To the smiles open smiles
My feed

A flavor in being

This poem is not a poem
It's an invitation
In between crisppings of silence
To tender tiny specks of sound
Unfold patterns of imagery
Is the poem I breed
Only the true author of such a poem
Is whoever is willing to try

Those bright ideas

Our thought processes are. That being said, the question is how we choose to interpret them. For example, I look at a table, but I do not see a table. What I see is a geometrical shape visually inspected of color set out to correlate with a certain texture, also with certain size in proportion to all the other shapes and sizes of any given nature I see. I then relate it to previous experience that in the land of verbal communication, such a thing has been called upon as table and that it has common use as a flat surface to put things upon.

The attribution of meaning is a thought process itself. Thought processes are spontaneous as subsequent analytical digestion of sensorial diversities inflowing from within and around us. Some thoughts derive directly from a comprehensive and questful attempt to such data, others derive from the process of itself thinking, which is the same as the previous one only now directed upon itself. As I reflect upon reflection I am questioning the weight of assertion that such comprehensive attempts may implement on my interpretations of being. Such is a permuting dialog between what is self-generated and what is amidst surroundings.

I do consider some thoughts as indeed generative to a source which is only partly accessible to conscious identification, others seem to be more surfaced in consciential perception by which ground control can debate over the happenings of Major Tom*. Both are my own, only the former is when I become all and differentiation’s light weakens to a darkened glow of subtleties. Indeed thought processes should not be mistaken as themselves the self, rather as varying levels of awareness by which we can abstract and harness our likings and dislikes in means of improving the chances of effectively carrying out to plan.

*Reference to Space Oddity from David Bowie

Genuine / Genuino

What would happen if my paintings were jealous of my drawings were jealous of my music were jealous of my words? I’d quite certainly be heart-broken. They all live inside me knowing that I give each my best in expression of will; as long as it comes from the heart, there is much so much to do still.

O que aconteceria se minhas pinturas tivessem ciúmes de meus desenhos tivessem ciúmes de minhas músicas tivessem ciúmes de palavras? Certamente ficaria de coração partido. Todos eles vivem dentro de mim sabendo que dou a cada um deles o meu melhor em expressão de vontade; desde que vindo do coração, há muito a ser feito ainda.

As montanhas que escalo / The mountains I climb

Between desired and undesired problems I cherish those with the most creative results.
Entre problemas desejados e indesejados eu cultivo aqueles com os efeitos mais criativos.


Abelhinhas e mosquitos
Sempre hão de existir
Talvez se eles sumissem
Perguntaríamos; pra onde foram?

Mas isso não me impede
De lhes dar uma lapada
Quando tentam me picar

Ainda assim, se eu fosse um deles
Pousaria direto em mim

-

Tincy bees and mosquitoes
Will always exist
Maybe if they vanished
We’d ask; where’d they go?

But that doesn’t stop me
From giving one a good swing
Whenever one tries to bite me off

Still if I were one of them
I'd head straight for me

Like waking up without ever truly having slept

It’s with the fragile yet hardened consistency of a diamond that I set out for levelings of excellence, the kind I see when the first rays of light start brushing a bright new canvas each day. A sky that belongs to us all, priceless in exhibition inspiring us to reflect our own forms of sparkle, and to express it in praise to nature as we drink up on the works of our beloved ones to the finest results. Being a product of a collective effort aiming towards an experience of what’s fine and refined, the experience itself is of a wordless quality, for no atom of significance could withhold proportions to a synesthesia in being. Words can only be so good as to attempt a recreation in the reader's mind of these desired effects, and this is done in such a way that works of art themselves could only usually be as good as the ability or sensibility of the viewers and listeners to what is attempted in portraying. And if one trains one’s perceptual tuner to the flow of metamorphosis around, inspiration and drive can be found just about anywhere. I am thankful and awe-inspired to the musings of those who contribute their faith to the process, by which I live up to such standards.

The Spiral ∂ O espiral (aka: Inner clockworkings)

Forgetting what we dream
Is the psyche's way to cope
with what's more than we can handle

In time our psyche opens
And let's a conscious know
Come knocking on our door

And my reply
is have a seat
Let me show you around

-

Esquecer de nossos sonhos
É uma maneira da psique lidar
Com o que é mais do que se aguenta

Com o tempo a psique desvenda
E permite uma consciente compreensão
Bater em nossa porta

E minha resposta
É sente-se aqui
Vamos passear

Perfecting

The only way to justify an act of abuse, is to believe that beyond the act itself, life has its own inner workings, and by it we are strengthened to teach others courage and guts; the power to surpass in realizing all is quite flawless in essence, and that we're free to make of it whatever we choose present.

There’s a life long lesson
To teach us to say no
To all our undeceivers

In which our troubles are
Sought after
And rejected in respect

Ingoing

When I am the giver
how much is my weight?

When I am source
what is to measure my light?

It must be the blend
of what I have
And what comes to me

So that amidst
Difference and whole

the connection between parts
is of love

In sync

It's high time we clip off
Our sorrows
To let in to shades of fresh air

They fuel us to work
in lightning our nature
with each season's first

may the next one come
beyond understanding

Expierienced

As my heart beats zillions
Me thoughts have cooked heavy
To the weight of infinity

Which is infinite weight
In press me towards expressing
To those I relate

So hands be put to sputter
On connecting the i
with the dot that goes on top

The slippery land of ! to ? to ! to ?

My life, how funny games come forwards, to teach me little but of clueless me. Lost and found in a sea of all. It's a cross between I know and I know not. Coz' everytime I think I know, I find out that I don't, still I do and thus my boat eclipses among phantoms of certainty. And miss merry-go-round keeps spinning.

- Why is everywhere written together and every time not?

Aurora

De grão em grão
ergue montes a brisa
de palmo em palmo
cava o rio o abismo

De pétala em pétala
despe em terra a flor
que é o chão de toda vida

De raio em raio
desperta em sol o céu
que é teto de toda vida

Brisa água terra e sol
Cavam vida e vazio
E ao que tudo foi feito denovo
Nem mais nem menos aqui

-

Grain by grain
Breeze builds summits
Lengh by lengh
River digs abyss

Petal by petal
descends to earth a flower
Root of all life

Ray by Ray
Awakes the sun the sky
Roof of all life

Breeze sun earth and water
Digs up life and void
And to all that's been redone
Neither more nor less here


-Uma colaboração, A collaboration