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

Vida a que aspiro / Life which I aspire

60 x 70 cm / óleo sobre tela

Uma homenagem à energia condensada
A homage to condensed energy

¨*¨

De um vasto oceano nasce forma
Que é o chãos da primavera
Ninguém sabe o que vêm
Mas o que vêm sabe em vez

Não o sabe como eu sei
O que sabe sabe é
Tão pleno quanto o espanto
De um eterno sabe-lá

Vida vida eu sou pouco
Em motricidade de um saber

-

A vast ocean gives form birth
In the chaos of spring
No one knows what comes ahead
But what comes knows in turn

Its knowingness is not like mine
What knows knows in being
As fulfilled as what’s fright
Of eternal yet-to-knows

Life oh life I am little
In motricity of knowing

Inspiration

Dreaming awake I found a great wise man. A wise great man who knew to know and know to knew. Came to me question:

“what do you, after alls been done?”
“one more do, my great wise. Coz’ zip can stop it all, and all is really all.”


“the jungle that feeds me, generates me and brings me up, I’m your cradle and your home. She and I, I and all, like a bridge to the morning sun. I open my mouth and the sun I swallow, devouring it and spiting it off in form of an embryo. A cycle of life in the ineffable. I know and do not know at same time. And uncertainty leads to certainty leads to uncertainty in a vespertine, coz’ on the other side it rounds again, uncertainly. The all knowing breeds. Yet breeds to give us the taste of new findings. I do not know and allow my deep core to shock me. And shocktrisize me in the beauty of a flower. It tells me: learn to be and only be. I am you and you’re the air, inhaling yourself bright.”

Kindred

Inspiração

Sonhando acordado
Veio a mim um grande sábio
Sábio esse que sabia
E sabia por saber
Volta e meia me indagou:

“O que fazes por fazer
depois de ter feito tudo?”
“Mais um faço, grande sábio,
porque nada para o tudo,
e tudo é tudo mesmo.”

Que a selva me alimenta
E me gera e me cria,
Sou seu berço e seu lar
Ela e eu, eu e tudo
Como uma ponte ao sol nascente

Eu abro minha boca e ao sol engulo
O devoro e o cuspo fora
Em forma de célula nata
Um ciclo de vida no inefável
Eu sei e não sei ao mesmo tempo

E o incerto gera o certo
Gera o incerto
Gera o certo
Gera o incerto poente

Pois do outro lado nasce denovo
Incerto somente
O tudo saber gera cria
Mas cria menor pra dar ao ente
O gosto da descoberta

Eu não sei e permito que minha profundeza me espante,
E gere o espanto que é a beleza da flor
Que me cala e me olha em seu belo linear
Diz aprende a ser e ser somente
Eu sou tu e tu é o ar
Se inalando a si próprio

-

Da Seidade / Of Knowingness

"A consciência que emerge de cada um de nós, é a força motriz do crescimento; do chão que seguimos por trilhar. Louvemos o artefato da escolha, porque tudo está ligado uma coisa com a outra. E eu escolho o bem-presente"

“The consciousness that emerges from within each one of us is the driving force of growth; the path we follow trail. Let us praise the artifact of choice, because everything is connected to everything else. And I choose what's well and present”

Gilson

A Sea in which to Float (Sunday Scribblings)

This poem is much less about disconnection than it is about reconnection; attaching the lines because there is no way to be set apart from the whole of existence.


I flap my wings
Out of hand
Is the scrape of my skyline

This bird knows no limit
Its tail is the iceberg
Crystallized under pressure

I sink and rise
All at once

I am the inflow
Resounding in the chamber
Of my lung-heart

So close your eyes
And take a good look at all

-
More poems on Sunday Scribblings