The Writing

I did not know what to expect when somebody turned the lights on...and then dimmed...I remember words...I remember voices...I remember songs...beautiful melodies...at first timid...next thing I knew I was able to see so many creatures...some very recognizable...others a lil too enigmatic...I could feel them on my skin...show them thru my eyes...when I spoke no one heard...suddenly I start to recognize faces...some very avid...others noncommittal...others melancholic...but all were very interested...the music got loud...the voices stronger...the arms embracing...some times I felt left at the corner...but most of the time I was there participating actively...even if no body noticed or bother to care...I'll always be here...now faces has a peculiar looking....there is a pachanga...but they are sad...yes I can see people laughing...I can see their smiles...but they are not happy...I see the change in their eyes...I've witnessed they lines and colors week after week...I have learned so much myself...I can see the world not with my square eyes...but see it with my inner self...open to different approach...open...wide open...my physical space do not hold me...no longer...I can travel without moving...I can fly with no wings...I am free...

                                                                                                                                              The Wall

Maiz

El Maiz

 

I was thinking of the plant...I love eating elotes...I remember a class I had and the teacher said that corn was the first human modified plant...and it was done by the Native Americans...the plant is so interesting...Mexicans use it in many different ways for different occasions...in Brazil we use it in many other ways...and anywhere in the Americas we go...local people use it in their special way...Maiz is so Mexican...but also is so Peruvian...so Brazilian...it's so amazing...how it has become an international food...but very specific to each culture...I think this was one of the words we work with that the works on it were so diverse...people and plant became the same thing...very powerful...

Logic N Reason

 Trovador / Fuente / Manantial

en Portugués

Trovador / Chafariz / Manancial 

 

I love the word chafariz. It has a melodic sound...soft on the tongue...soft in the ears...it seems to evoke other words...palabras después de palabras...it is a rap of one word...many meanings...un trovador sentado...escuchando el chafariz....dicen que la vida empezó en el agua...I don't know...I know water trigger different emotions...each one has a type of relationship with it...some fear...some love...some admire...el mar...for so long have inspire trovadores...el mar...has had such strong influence in many different cultures...mar...blue...green...silver...violent...calm..."today is the last day...I'm using words...they've gone out...lost their meaning...don't function anymore...Words are useless...especially sentences...they don't stand for anything...how could they explain how I feel"...I still prefer words...single words...mar...andremar

Las Fridas

Mexicanas

When the door opened, the air had a different quality...I walked down the hall...yes...people looked different also...the ride from the airport to some place close to downtown took about 20 min...When I got off of the small bus I realize how different life could be...it was my first time in Mexico city...the size of the city impressed me...yes...whatever strange food with strange smell (to me at that particular time, let's be clear) people were eating in small places was different...yes...but not stroke me as much as seeing Mexican women in the streets...it's was very impressive...very exuberant...very peculiar...the hair...the make up...the clothes...the way they walked...it was extravagant...I was fascinated that a place could be so different from Brazil...with my eyes already set up to see the world thru my own culture...I could not see sense in what I saw...things did not match..strange...weird...intriguing...I could see but I could not understand...that was the beginning...

Sin Ti

 After being with you...tasting your taste...breathing your breath....listing to your voice...
Why poets...

poems for what?!
Why streets...
going where?
Why the sun...
I don't care if is night...
if it is hot...
Why plum trees...
is there gods?!

What time is it?
It could be winter...blowing
It could be summer...stars
It could be raining...tears
I don't know what to do...

What r songs for...
What r rainbows for...
What r flowers for...
What r lips for...

Doubts...pain...cloudness...deep...
pain...fogness...tears...heart...
bleeding...coldness...water....
painness...loneliness...saidness...

I hear a dog...barking...
I see stars...shining...
I feel depression...kiling
I hear someone...crying...
myself....

I still can smell your skin in the house...
I still thinking of you when I hear a song,,,
I still crying when I see your picture...
I still waiting for you to open the door..
I still seeing you everywhere...

If I could only swallow your saliva again...
If I could only hear your whispers at nite again...
If I could only taste your sweat again ...
If I could only make your heart beat fast again...

Semillas...Hojas...Raizes

Inner Being...Tierra y Corazon

TIERRA Y CORAZÓN

No matter where I go...

No matter what I do...

The imprint of my childhood...the land...the culture...the family... 

They always will be with me...

They are me...or I am them...I reflect them...They reflect me...

The blue blood...bleeds when I think of where I come from...

Who I come from...

Saudade  

Canção do exílio

Antônio Gonçalves Dias

 

Mi tierra tiene palmeras,
Cuando el tordo canta.
Los pájaros que cantan aquí
No cantan como alla.

Nuestro cielo tiene más estrellas,

Nuestros prados tienen más flores.
Nuestros bosques tienen más vida
Nuestra vida más amor.

En sueños, solo, en la noche,
Más placer me encuentro allí.
Mi tierra tiene palmeras,

 Adonde el tordo canta. 

Mi tierra tiene bellezas
De tal manera que no puedo encontrar aquí;
En soñando - solo por la noche -
Más placer me encuentro allí.
Mi tierra tiene palmeras, 

Adonde el tordo canta. 

No permita Dios que yo muera
Antes de volverme allá;
Antes de disfrutar de las bellezas 

Que no puedo encontrar por aquí;
Antes de ver las palmas 

Adonde el tordo canta. 

Exile song

My land has palm trees,
Where the thrush sings.
The birds that sing in here
Do not sing as they do there.
Our skies have more stars,
Our valleys have more flowers.
Our forests have more life,
Our lives have more loves.
In dreaming, alone, at night,
I find more pleasure in there.
My land has palm trees
Where the thrush sings.
My land has beauties
Who cannot be found in here;
In dreaming — alone, at night —
I find more pleasure in there.
My land has palm trees,
Where the thrush sings.
May God never allow
That I die before I return;
That I do not see the beauties
That I cannot find in here;
That I do not see the palm trees
Where the thrush sings.