GREEN AND BROWN AND BLACK is BLUE

From my dirty diaries

(A Blues)

I.

Sorry for the inconvenience;

I don’t mean to waste your time.

Ignore me if you must: I love you!

I love the American Mind at times

when it’s least suspecting it.

Brother, mother, sister, mam

don’t you think we’ll feel

best when we’re berserkers of love?

I’m me, that’s my mind, on Emersonian

fields of well-formed phrasings;

I plough off the crust of shallows;

I dig down deeper: I invent us

new, better and you’ll see

what I mean, now:

Brothersisterhood of us,

let’s dream anew:

Let’s ride the clouds

of woulds!

Would-be-better-so’s!

Let’s dream up alternatives

of what we did before:

I dream of motherhoods of sweet unbound.

II.

What are we now as we are still?

What are we in the grand scheme of things?

Exactly what we thought we are:

Nothing but what matters.

We are dirty spots of sun light

in muddy pools of life.

I’ m trespassing now the border.

I’m joining the Aristophanessian clouds now:

It’s a rainy night in my head;

I try to make my blue ends meet

sense-wise, you see:

As if it mattered but to me.

It’s all about how you play your game.

We are all in this same Blues;

You will not fare  better if you try harder.

Lesson to learn for you,  I hope.

III.

I like the way you kiss me

I like your desire, I desire it.

Daniel in the lions’ den

is me now.

And my senses are

swirling around

because the torture

never stops; the she-lion

kneels down in front of me,

struck down by my

gnostic beams of fire.

I  blow the  fanfare

of the  common man.

I clear out our man-made

paradises. I have  been down now and out

in the Paris-and-Londons of power;

a loosing game to the lovers of money.

Kill that smack, now!

Do you at all know how Jericho / Ariha fell?

Because of  nothing but  trumpets.

It fell to the trumpets of the common man

made to conquer your soul.

I throw my wild hands into the sky:

undecipherable praises of glory to me.

Shower me drunk with kleos aphthiton,

unperishable fame.

But only when I am dreaming,

dreaming up Homer for me and

Achilles roaring and roaming

around the Troy your heart is to me,

this absurd dream comes true.

Grieving over Patroklos, my little heart,

I let his killer Hector bite the sand

upon which the castles of the mighty

wrongs are built .

 

I realize we are sinking.

Now please, tell it like it is;

there’s no more time for lies.

Play with me as long as you want to:

I will always adore you.

Whatever you do to me I can take it

because it means we’re still together.

Because that means

I’m still something in your

beautiful world.

Oh, I’ll be your little boy

if you need that and

if I can please you

I’m what you want me to be

forever.

IV.

You, my soul, cry me rivers,

cry me  inane  monsoons.

Hear me not listening to you

anymore. I have given up.

I have given up the dream we once were.

My heart is hungry for the morphine

of a female touch.

I am thirsty for lovers’ arguments.

It is only now that you are gone

I want you again.

In the summer of my heart

my melancholy swings

to the rhythm of your dreams

waltzing your unkempt desires

through your night.

V.

Let us paint our world new!

Here rests in peace

what once was your’s, too.

I am sick of the pain

you never stop

to surprise me with.

Amendments come too late.

I am departing from our heaven,

My mind is  Marc Aurelian  now:

It cannot stop soothing me

into stoic negligence.

My consolations to you, my

fellow traveller. Consider please that

our embarkment to the moon of wishfulls

has been cancelled.

We have painted our world blue.

All in love is imperfect when done.

I am addicted to last kisses;

I wish for pain uncaused by you.

I’m hold captive in a Rauschenberg painting

brimming with colorful regrets; I am drowning

in a sea of nostalgic daydreams about a lover gone.

About a lover lost I dream and pray:

May you fare well but

better get back to me, please!

I am in the mood for emergencies.

VI.

Uma Samba Canção to a drunken moon

To you, my notorious bounty of beautiful (pain)

The moon was caught by my eyes of desire

while my heart sang a G minor Blues

after you have gone.

The bottles on my table

stand high as the Polo Towers of Tokyo:

they have messages for me from you,

perhaps, I’m dreaming again.

Is that really you? The you I knew?

And this was what it was like last night.

Let me brief you! To me had happened this,

the following occurred:

I  swam  through my dreams

when suddenly  …

and to quote Leopardi:

Così tra questa

immensità s’annega il pensier mio:

e il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.

I came to town and love came too.

Dressed in beauty we strolled on

along lonely avenues, passing by

the parks where the girls enjoy themselves.

They giggle but not for me.

They do their dances of

loosing their innocence.

I stand aside.

to quote myself:

Consider please that

our embarkment to the moon of wishfulls

has been cancelled.

Don’t ask me why but ask the weatherman

who created this mess for us,

because it definitely can’t have been us.

Enjoy while we are fighting

our desires of close to close,

and skin to skin

and the hugging that goes wth it.

Sweetest trouble mine: tell me

if we’re still ok. Are you fed up,

are you getting anorexic on our love?

Should I look for other lovers,

as long as I think I have you?

I cancel access to my heart.

I had my share of tears.

You won’t get in again.

Back on the streets

I suddenly notice

I don’t miss you at all.

Not that big a difference

between the addict kids of

Sao Paulo and me!

We dream the same,

we hunger just alike

we booze just the same,

we kill our brains

on the same speed.

We walk in clouds of mercy.

Grandeza e um pouco de couragem*

We do our thing

as long as you don’t watch us.

——————————————————————————————–
* Cazuza:Blues da piedade

(to be continued)

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