Haunting and sexy

Refining playing with fire.

Oh, the ones who have been down that rocky road… know the inevitable thrill of the elusive game.

Advertisements

Little (wannabe) drummer girl

So, I’m a drummer girl now. Ever since I started to learn the drums in Setúbal a couple of years ago I always had this crave for going deeper into it. Two months ago I decided it was time to optimize my human skills and instead of going out shopping and get me more stupid stuff I don’t need I got myself a drummie. I also started to have lessons with a real (expensive) teacher 🙂

So, after a bunch of lessons I can already do this and some other rythyms more. I’m still fighting with position, rythym and coordination as you can see, but I am quite satisfied actually! 🙂 Gotta get me a new metronome now!

I died waiting

The me and the I

Have undergone this fight

Have took this funny flight

Between the gut and the civilization.

Was I ever to come

To more than this chewing gum

That is now all there is left to endure

Take my words and take them for granted

Because now it’s all unmended

It’s all I’ve come to, a surrended

Frog smashed on the floor

To someone that has passed

From familiar to the ash

From light and day to a crash

Lost under these tired bones

Like all

There is to come

Like the pleasure and like the stones

That you have thrown to my restless bones

That are yet to hear an adore

Like the desert, like the shore

Like the things I wanted more

And like the lies I told myself

In this wreckless raging shelve

In wich I oblivious waited for

It’s all that it’s all that’s there is more

Like a desert like a shore

Like the things I wanted more

And like craving for an adore you

That never came, never made me more than

A stupid dizzy whore

Waiting for something else

Dying inside itself as you stared into the fucking floor.

Can’t

Can’t smile

Can’t feel excited

Can’t see the bright side

Can’t listen to happy songs

Can’t

Can’t like you, can’t hate you

Can’t say that I’m alright

Can’t say I’m torn to shreads

Sometimes I can

But this time I can’t

You make me can’t, you make me can’t do

All the things that I think I want to

But can’t force myself to believe

That I can’t imagine the things I can achieve

Can’t say I was a saint

Can’t say I was a devil

Can’t whisper, can’t pray

Can’t scream, I can’t unravel

I don’t even say I can

I just say can’t

Because I am lost is this absence, because the I was lost in this desert

Because that crush was so big that I can’t even feel myself

I can’ feel pleasure and I can’t say if it’s pain

It’s so dry that you have left me

Not a memory that isn’t vain

Afte you say you can’t

Like this cannever be

I won’t whisper, can’t say I can’t

Will I ever come to be

All the things that I can be

And that you took them all from me.

coisas simples

Coisas simples

O burburinho da hora de ponta. As rodas dos carros. E há quem vá aos Himalaias! Ao Himalaias espante-se! Para perceber o significado da vida. O que terá mais significado do que a maneira como uma garrafa de vidro curva nas mãos depois de fria a fina silhueta do cristal transparente?

As conversas da fila do supermercado com as senhoras apressadas para ir fazer jantar para dez. Das senhoras gordinhas simpáticas que vendem fruta na rua e que não deixam apalpar. Da conformidade mansa de quem espera com 10 produtos ao colo porque não quês pegar num cesto e agora já não tem remédio. Da senhora que vai à procura do leite e o empregado forte diz contundido que já não há daquele.

Das pessoas que vão a algum lado, dos lentos, dos parados, do que observam e dos que são observados. Dos que fazem e dos que imitam, dos que sentem e dos que mentem, mas não com o olhar.

Tudo é,

Repleto de humanidade.

Quando a mente é frugal,

Sexta feira à tarde.