Lost (a songwriting experiment)

Just another lonely
afternoon
I wonder around
In a lifeless room

Finding answers to
the questions I don't have
But still I'm sinking
into a see of shadows

And I don't know
what to do

I don't mind
the feelings I got to hide
But I look into the mirror
only to find someone else
all this time

And I don't know
what to do

I'm lost in this
I feel ice cold although my
body is burning in fever

And I don't know
what to do


and now finally
the light as come
rushing in from the light less window
filling the room with
life and heat
but still...

And I don't know
what to do...

Brilho nos olhos

Inerte, sozinho e contemplando a paisagem que aquele alto rochedo lhe confere, ele sente-se, alias, ele é o Rei!

Ao fundo do vale algo se mexia, talvez uma mãe ralhava com o filho, um jovem casal partilhava sonhos ou algo mais, uma jovem aprendia uma valsa esquecida no tempo, alguém nascia, alguém morria... enfim o que entendemos por vida.
Mas ali, confundido por uma rocha, ele apenas via vultos e podia ver sem ser visto, acima de tudo imaginava o que se passava lá em baixo. Sem ninguém a perturba-lo ele olhava para o vale imaginando-o um vale perfeito, equilibrado a sua imagem. Sentia-se no entanto observado, algo estaria acima dele, mas não podia pois aquele era o rochedo mais alto da zona e ele não era religioso…

Sentiu o vento frio de norte, imaginou que a chuva não demoraria a fazer-se sentir naquele vale castigado. Centenas de anos de lutas feudais cicatrizaram o vale, rochas negras, ruínas dispersas de antes grandes fortalezas… mais subtis eram as cicatrizes com milhões de anos, falhas e fendas de terramotos, vulcões, ventos, tempestades… Sempre em constante mutação, imaginou as centenas de pessoas que teriam estado naquele lugar a contemplar aquela paisagem, milhares talvez… mas porque é que ele era especial?
Ele sentia-se único, talvez porque chegou lá como nenhum outro havia chegado! Olhou para cima, esboçou um sorriso e gritou o mais alto que pôde. Ele era o rei!

Em seguida ajoelhou-se e descarregou nas veias uma dose de heroína digna de um rei! Rebolou e deitou-se a admirar o céu enquanto o corpo era tomado de assalto pelo calor e formigueiro orgasmico… sentiu o sol na cara como um rei o sentiria e fechou os olhos, nem sentiu quando a terceira facada lhe perfurou o coração…. Na outra ponta da faca um sorriso e um brilho nos olhos… afinal…

O REI MORREU …. VIVA O REI!

The past future

As the day approach its end, and the night starts filling in, my eyes go straight to the sky above and towards my past, while I wonder about the present reaching for a glimpse of the future.

Then again I start one of those continuous loops that makes me wonder if this is to much time on my hands or if I'm starting to go insane... but as I write down this few words on the train I try to understand what's wrong for me to feel so strange... nothing and everything.

Egocentric

Some water, a few drops of paint, a brush and a new canvas, the tools for the perfect painting. Now we need a subject, search your enviroment... yourself.

Get a mirror and paint the perfect painting, and if the mirror image talks back to you, write it down and turn it into the perfect book...

Dancing the waltz

The flash of light struck him has a meteor would, but what he wasn’t prepared was the emotions that followed that big flash.

For him that was like “the big bang”, a start of new life, a new himself. He made some brilliant resolutions, he would stop smoking, cared more for his family, called his mom more often and get a cat. He would start being more organized at home and work.
Once a month he would take his girlfriend to some place on the countryside and buy a convertible…
In his work we would get more motivation and try to get more education, do a new checkup and this time be more serious with his doctors prescriptions… help more people, start a new book, create a web blog, buy a digital camera, do a generous donation to UNICEF, do volunteer work in his vacations…

But was he still in time to repent himself? Another big flash followed by a bang struck him as hard as the first one…

He closed his eyes as hard as he could, and continued… a new house by the coast, see the sunrise more often and the sunset outside of office, buy more gifts for his girlfriend, ride a horse, learn a new foreign language, try to understand a philosopher, buy all the movies from his favorite director, see more plays, go with his friends to the stadium, join a gym, buy a complete set of golf clubs, go to the zoo, learn golf, join a club, start a secret order, paint a portrait of family including his third degree cousins, read more books, try to understand “cubism” “surrealism” and all art forms that end in “ism”, start his own sculpture…

Another flash... he can't stand it any more... He opens his eyes and accepts his destiny…

He gets used to the light and starts to see through the motions around him… something hit his head… it’s a cork! Hundreds of champagne bottles are opened at the same time corks are flying every where, everyone his celebrating… some pretty woman grabs him and gives him a breathtaking kiss… It’s New Year! He’s happy, this time his new years resolutions were going to stand! He relaxes a bit, entering the spirit and grabbing his own bottle and looking up to the fireworks, this time with his eyes open…

He senses another touch on his shoulder he turns around to face a new girl or a guy waiting for a New Year hug, but the only thing he notices the cold steel of a gun in his face and a frozen face…

Another flash, a bang and as the cork of his own bottle hit the floor he his already dead… and she’s dancing the waltz never noticing it...

A light has gone out...

... but it might be a new star in the sky tonight.

After ten wonderfull years, our beloved kitty had to enter a new journey. It was a good life, spoiled by the whole family, and loved by all that had the luck to enter her territory and share some time with this smart and misterious being.

More than a pet, Xanita, was family. She knew when one was sick and she would huddle with that person until it was better... she eated when someone was eating alone just for company, always on our side when we were whatching t.v... crazy for shrimp and always ready to have her belly scratched and massaged...

Anything that could be turned into a ball it was her favorite toy... until some new ball was found! She cried, she laughed and she even gave me advices in her own manner. For me it was not a cat, but family... I wasn't living with her in the last years of her life but whenever I went to my parents house she was there waiting for me and when I saw her, I knew I was at home.

But now she went to another place to probably follow that gigantic ball or to warm the feet of someone who need it... farewell my princess and sleep well...

Welcome to the basement

In here I'll leave some of my delusions so that you can comment and treat as bad as you want...

OK?

A Samurai Short story

As he look up in to the black sky searching for a moon that just isn’t there, he faces is worst and most dreadful enemy... himself.

There is not even a star in this sky, actually there is no light at all, anywhere, he sees nothing. He reaches his hands forward, such as a blind man would do, to search his environment, and try to know where to go. He doesn’t know how he got here, or who put him here, in this black and cold place.

He hears a sound... he try’s to follow it, and then he realizes it’s the sound of his own breathing and his own heart pounding, raging to get out of his chest and escape this horrible place. His eyes start to get used to the non existing light as he try to get the courage necessary to give a step forward, all his other senses are completely active and now, more then ever, necessary. He opens his mouth as if to scream, but no sound escapes his open and now ridiculous mouth... Now the ground starts moving, circling, his legs start to give away, his knees tremble, he is afraid... he starts to sweat at the same time he feels a chill that looks like is going to freeze the core of his bones.

As he start falling he throw his right arm toward his belt, searching for the faithful katana, trying hard to feel safe, a incredible false sense of safety, as if his katana would ever defend him from a force he just doesn’t know what is. Grabbing his katana he falls in his knees, his left hand in front of him try hard to feel the danger and to get a lock on the enemy, or enemy’s, for the katana to send a mortal blow!

But he feels nothing, strangely, the floor is soft, as if he hits a ground covered with autumn leafs. On his knees the ground no longer shakes, it was his fear that made his legs gives away. He realizes that as he trying hard to focus and doing his best to getting up. He is fighting against himself, against the fear that freezes his body, and makes him an easy prey for his entire enemy’s. He starts to concentrate in the memories of his training, as he had to endure much physical and emotional stress, but he never lost his fear of the dark and worst, the fear of being alone.

Now he is alone, and feeling cold, he wants to cry, he feels like a child wanting his mother to be near him... his mother... he remembers his childhood. Those happy days when everything was great, when he was afraid of the dark her mother would let him light up a candle and reads him a bed time story, an Haiku normally, about love or some great deed from a noble and heroic samurai, the samurai would be is father actually, that was no longer with them, lost his life defending his lord from a crowd of farmers wanting their lands back, and wanting their freedom. His father never teached him to handle the katana, never gave him horse lessons or teaches him to use the bow, because he died when he was just one year old. Her mother barely escaped alive with him, and then got to hide with her family in the hills, but still she raised him as the image of his decease father, to be a samurai.

The training of a samurai was very rigid, he never got to play with the other kids, or at least the child games. The games he played was the one’s of a samurai, that teaches him to use the katana and the bow, in his free time he learned to read and write, he learned the work of Confucius and were forced to know almost every sentence Confucius wrote or said... but still he feared the dark! The darkness was very real right now he almost felt like it was alive and was trying hard to embrace him. He pulls his katana out slashing the claustrophobic darkness, but the dark won’t leave. The sound of his katana in the air gives him a dead chill, he doesn’t see nothing but he try’s hard to strike that invisible enemy that his causing this horrible sense of enclosure... He try’s hard not to cry, and to remember why he is here. Nothing, his brain is blank, he can’t focus on nothing more than his childhood. Just then when he was about to try screaming once again, we hears the faint paces behind him, instinctively he jumps into position and grab the katana in front of him.

-- -Lower your weapon is of no use in here. – said a firm voice in front of him, which he couldn’t place and there was no face for him to recognize.

-- -Who are you? Where am I? Don’t come closer or I’ll be forced to kill you – said him and the thundering voice usual in him, came out as just a low whisper almost inaudible.

-- -Who am I is a good question but for you to know me, you had to know yourself and that, I suppose you can’t answer me. Who are you my son? – said the voice, coming even closer.

-- - Don’t come closer I’ll open you in half! – his voice whispered without any intention of killing the only company he has in here and while he try’s to remember who he is... his name. His mind still blank...

-- -You can’t kill me, and even if you could do that you wouldn’t because I’m your only company in here. – The voice firm as ever and right on his left shoulder.

-- -Yes, you are correct, and I feel you can kill me instantly, so why don’t you do that. – he try’s to stay noble, and have this ended quickly

-- -Why do you think I want to kill you, did you do something wrong? Why everything has to be about dying or living? Are you alive or dead? Answer this last question first and explain your answer.

-- -Alive, of course, I breathe, I hear, I think, therefore I’m alive.

-- -But do you remember your name? Do you remember how did you reach this place?

-- -No, I don’t remember how I got here, and where “here” is! But still that is a question of memory and not of life! I’m alive my heart pounds and I feel the coldness of this place! So I am alive! – He avoided the terrible answer... who is he?

-- -Without entering the realm of the philosopher, you live in the memory of others and of your own. So without knowing who you are, how are you certain that you are alive? You don’t even know your name! Your fear is blocking that.

-- -I remember things, from my childhood, and, although I don’t remember how I got here or what my name is, I do feel I’m alive. Dead don’t talk, and I’m speaking.

-- -There are many forms of living, there are people that believe dead do speak, but their own language and because they don’t have their bodies to speak they use their minds and souls.

-- -Are you telling me that I’m dead? Is that why I can’t remember how I got here or who am I? Who killed me? – his mind is now racing trying to remember is last minutes, he’s dead... what will happen to her lovely mother? He wants to cry, he wants to wake up! Yes this is a dream... of course!! His mind is racing... but is stopped by the voice...

-- -No you are not dead, but you are not alive either... and this is no dream, I’m sorry to disappoint you. You are not dead, but your fear is preventing you from living.

-- -So you say that I’m alive, but my fear of the dark is making me lose my mind and start to hear voices?

-- -Do you always want so many explanations? Have you ever thinked that if you thinked more, and felt more you would have all those answers? Well, I’ll make you happy and explain you one thing or two... just for you to stop this circling of trying to reach the obvious and start thinking about the real issue in here. Are you alive or not? First yes I’m a voice but I’m also a mind so by your way of thinking I’m alive just like you, so you are not alone in here. You are here because you want to be, you can leave any time you want. I’m also here, because you called me. The key for you to leave is you and you alone...

-- -This is a nightmare!! – he cried out.

-- -I’m afraid is a sort of a nightmare, but still you are not sleeping!

-- -Am I meditating?

-- -No and this is my final answer about your present condition. I’m tired of this rambling and I’m a very busy person, so please don’t waste my time with silly and easy questions.

-- -I need to know my present condition in order to understand why I’m here and why can’t I leave or see!

-- -Sorry young warrior, but you are your way out. Your present condition is your choice. Your problem is that you are only worried about where you are, and every question is about that, how to get out a place you don’t know where it is. You know a person by its questions not his answers, so you are not a very interesting person right now, and so I have other matters to attend to. I’ll leave you here for the time being in order for you to reflect and choose another approach in this “problem” of yours. – The voice decreases his volume as if it is going away, his last sentence looked about one mile away.

-- -Don’t leave me!!! Please come back!! Don’t leave me alone!!! – He cries out... but only a whisper gets out...

He’s alone again... the fear is hitting him full force, he is a brave samurai, he faced a lot of dangers, but still this time he can’t use the sword or the word correctly. He’s powerless, he considers for a moment committing suicide, seppuku... but he thinks that would not be noble of him, and he had to face his fears, face his problems. This is only one more problem he has to deal with another adventure. So since he is the one that commands his destiny, as the voice said, he only has to think what his name is and probably he find a way out.

Hours passed, days perhaps, he feels no hunger, no thirst as if his body his being feed by his curiosity about his name, he try’s to recall it, but he only remembers of his mother and his childhood as if he could recall what the name they call him... so as if from no where a thought came into his mind. Why did he need a name, the name is a label, who he is, is much more than a name, he is a person not a label. What the voice told him was to find who he is, not his name! His name would be his final quest, the key to get out of here. He feels much more comfortable now in the darkness at least he’s not ashamed of not knowing his own name in front of other people. He above all is a brave and proud samurai, he can’t forget his own name! So he now starts to focus on who he really is. He starts by a samurai... the seven laws of the bushido which he knows by heart: benevolence, politeness, loyalty, justice, veracity, bravery and honor.

He follows this laws but, those where imposed to him, in order to be a samurai he had to follow those noble laws, but he was not always himself following those orders, sometimes he had to be brave in front of something he wanted to cry... he was that time against himself. A samurai don’t cry or show emotions, unless they are in the form of a Haiku, and disposed in a noble away, not in front of the enemy or the fellow samurai.

So he was not always himself while serving as a samurai. Did he really want to be a samurai in first place?

He was a samurai because he mother wanted him to be, in honor of his deceased father, he preferred much more the arts, he wanted to be a painter or a writer. He loved to write and was good at it also, so since for a samurai it was a noble thing to write Haiku so he spend a lot writing his chronicles in the form of haiku’s filled with emotion and love. He never found nobody from the other sex that he would want to write a Haiku poem, well there was one time he fell in love, but she was from a different cast and their families didn’t agree, although he was ready to kidnap her if she shared his love... but she wouldn’t and he found his mother embrace so much more caring.

He wrote everything to his mother, and she loved to hear him while he read to her out loud, she could not read or write, women didn’t have that kind of discipline at school when she attended classes. They were teach in the manner of serving their husbands, cooking, laundry, sawing, gardening and raising their child’s... they were actually slaves. Samurai man of higher cast’s would have their wife’s chosen by their parents while they were still in the cradle... but he didn’t want that for him, believed in real love. So did her mother and she always let him choose the way he draw his destiny, with only one condition, that he would be a samurai... but he was no samurai... because he was afraid of the dark. A samurai is always brave he could not be brave in the dark, not an honest type of bravery... so he was no samurai. So he cried out loud for the voice to hear.

-- -I am not a Samurai! I’m afraid of the dark, so I’m not a samurai. So I don’t know who I am!

-- -Very good young warrior, it took less than I expected. Knowing what you are not is a start to know who you are. – said the voice from behind him.

-- -I’m not brave facing the dark, so I am not a samurai.

-- -Well you had the courage to admit that and that is a true warrior value. Because by knowing your flaws you can handle them so much better. Samurai or not, what you did right now it took much courage. I still have hope on you young warrior.

-- -But still I don’t know who I am. My question now is “Who am I?” Can you help me...? I don’t know your name... but please help me... voice.

-- -Now that question is much more interesting, but one only you can answer. My name is what you want to call me, what you fell I am, you think about me and I appear. I’m alive in your thought. – The voice is going away again...

-- -No!! Stop! I need you, please come back! How can I know who I am, if I can’t recall anything unless my childhood? – He shouted out almost crying, he felt his eyes filling with water...

-- -Have you think one thing, could you only have been yourself when you were a child? Search who you were back then, before you were made a samurai and the answer is there... – the last word was so faint that he hardly got it...

He was alone again... alone with himself. Even in the long meditation hours he was not alone, he had his sensei at his side all the time, and he could feel his breathing. Being alone was very weird to him. He had to face himself, and in order to face himself he had to change so many things, he was afraid of the change. His path had been chosen to him, and he learned to love and to honor that path, because he loved his mother... he couldn’t hurt her feelings... but he wanted to be a writer or a painter. He didn’t want to kill other people, he wanted to paint them or write about them. He never understood why would people be so mean to each other, life was wonderful why waste it in a bloody sword fight... why not waste it savoring the spring winds, the summer late afternoon orange sky, the smell of the earth after the first autumn rains and the first flocks of snow in the beginning of winter. By the law of samurai, they should be savored, but the interpretation of bushido by the lords were that their samurais had to be faithful, polite, brave, loyal, just, true and honorable to follow their orders... which were everything but those.

How many times were a samurai ordered to kill just because an idea were against a lord... how many times a good man were murdered or lost his life for a lord that just wanted his money... just like he father died... He was not his father! He was himself; he was a writer and a painter... not a fighter! But he was no writer either, because a writer had to write what other told him to write... in order to survive as a writer he sometimes had to write lies and talk good about somebody which had than nothing of good...

Well he could be a poet, writing about noble feelings... at least he had a choice! A Samurai had none. A painter he could paint landscapes and sell them... but there will be people that want him to paint them in a different way or in a way that make them more important... and that would be against him... but he could die of hunger and still would not break a law that required him to be loyal to someone which gave him no reasons to fight for! He could be a singer... or be a farmer, raising a farm is creating life for others to eat and live... is way more noble than the ones that come to a farm and threaten the farmers to pay taxes and to give their crops to the new “landlord”... but even so that’s not what he is. That’s what he can be and that can be a lot a things since he had the courage to admit he was no samurai. So he returns to the start... who is he? He is free! Free to choose, free to do what he wants, free to follow his beliefs and dreams... free! Even if he lost his life after doing what he wants and trying to reach his dreams, he would at least live free and die free from what he chose. Wrong or not it was him that choose is path and not the other way around.

He now understood what the voice said “You are not dead, but your fear is preventing you from living.”, he was not dead because he was breathing and among the living, but he was not living because he was afraid to change and go against others or even to break monotony so he would be just another samurai, defending his lord, killing and probably ending up dead because of some fool adventure and a wrong motive of his lord...

-- -I am no longer afraid of changing! I’m my own master right now! I fear not my destiny, and I right now choose my own! I am free! – He shouted to the darkness.

-- -So finally you are starting to open your eyes, they were not entirely closed, but still you didn’t want to open them fearing that the light would blind you!

-- -I no longer fear the dark, because without the dark the light as no meaning.

-- -You are now ready to see the light? Even if that means you have to step on to the abyss of darkness? It can be a nasty fall. – The voice said with the most sober and cold manner you could think of.

-- -Yes I think I am. My mother loves me, she will understand, and if she doesn’t, I’m not living her life, I’m living mine. I am free, so I can leave here.

-- -You think you can leave here, but still I believe not that you can take the abyss of freedom.

-- -Right now, I don’t live, I survive. If fall in the abyss during some instant in my life I will be more free than the majority of men, I will be following my dream!

-- -You are correct; you are starting to see the light...

-- -Yes, I think I’m ready to change. The fear of darkness was the fear of the unknown, of the change... I fear it no longer. I hope it’s not to late... I’m not a child no more. – His voice faltering...

-- -There is no age for you to change, changing is a lifetime work. There is no ending point so moving and a way of life, not many have the courage to do that. Everybody like the safety of a quiet and wonderful life of social acceptance. Even when they feel miserable, they still prefer that to changing what’s wrong, what makes them miserable. I still doubt you have that courage...- the voice were now defiant

-- -I can take it! Show me the abyss and I’ll see if I’m afraid while I fall... I’ll tell you then...

-- -You make me laugh... but still I see strength in you. Be prepared this is not a kid’s joy ride; it’s a life of continuous change...

-- -What more can I say?

-Nothing... except your name! Tell me your name...

He still couldn’t remember... but now he knows who he his, or better who he is not! He needs to just remember his name he closes his eyes, he didn’t know if he had them open or closed because of the darkness, but as soon has he closes his eyes he sees a white flare of light! Some sort of lightning struck him, everything is white...

-- -James... please talk to me... JAMES!!! Please!!! Don’t do this to me!!! James... – it’s not the voice that was talking to him, it was a woman’s voice... he try’s to recognize it... but he can’t place it... and the name... James...

-- -James... please... don’t leave me alone... I’ll die without you! – as the voice continues he still can’t place it... and the name... the flares of light are greater now... he start’s to feel pain.. an excruciating pain in his chest as the flash’s intensifying.

-- -Clear!!! Come on hang on! – Now it was a man’s voice... it was so close now... but still he can’t remember...

-- -James please... – the woman is now crying... she’s worried... he want to help her... the voice seems particularly familiar... he try’s to focus. The pain... he has to shout it’s too painful... he then screams, and as he screams he opens his mouth and feel a huge amount of air coming in. He feels his chest being crushed by the amount of air, but he is breathing and that is important... and then he remembers... James that’s his name...as he opens his eyes he sees his office and his beautiful wife...

-- -JAMES!!!! – He sees her perfect face covered with tears but she smiles now...

-- -Oh James... I love you so much I couldn’t live without you... Is he going to be ok? – She his now speaking to what seems to be a doctor or a nurse, the man expression is of worry.

-- -I don’t know ‘mam, I hope so, but please let us do our work now... – the doctor tries to take her away from him... he tries to grab his wife’s arm but he can’t move his arm... nothing. Darkness is coming again... oblivion... he wants to cry out again... total darkness now...

-- -Noooooooooooooooo.... – the woman cry out...

He’s alone again... alone in total darkness but now he know what he is not... he his not this corporate suit, not the top shot executive for the famous Barker and Baker Associates. He now remembers everything, he remembers the long hours of work, the total devotion to that firm, so that he was an image of his father... to make her mother proud. Now he lies there, helpless, alone... but feeling free from what grabbed his life and turned him into a slave... a workaholic.

He needs the voice to guide him, how can he change that... he has to leave what makes him that way. Well but he’s happy when he drives his porche out of the parking lot... happy at the hacienda 10 days per year that are his vacations... he needs that job to keep up with the good life... but what is good there in life if he can’t enjoy it? He never painted a paint or write a novel about miss guided love... are his porche or even his hacienda so important that he misses what life has to offer? The sunset in the beach, the cool spring wind in his face... how he misses that! But he had to work overtime every day, had no vacations... and was so tired at weekends that the only thing he felt like to do was to sleep all day... But now it’s over... his dead... or not! He can change all of that! He knows his name, and knows what he is not! He can start again.... he now know he has the strength to do that...

-- -Voice where are you??!! I want to get out of here! I have a life to live!

-- -I know you have, are you ready to commit to that? You will lose everything you have, you’ll lose some friends also... you know how that goes...

-- -We never lose the real friends, if is the money they are after they are not my friends and I have a loving wife...

-- -Which might as well go away as soon you don’t have any money for her channel...?

-- -No she won’t... and even if she does, she loves the channel more than me, so I’m not losing anything...

-- -Now you are prepared... just remember the choice is yours... – the voice is now going away...

-- -Wait!! Who are you???

-- -You know who I am... – the last word a mere faint...

-- -Thank you...

He forced himself to open his eyes and it required all his strength... he starts to feel that pain in his chest... and the shouts... he then opens his mouth...

...and then they lived happy ever after...

...or not...

The end :)