Everything the green knows - by Caio Fernandes 2010.
Everything the green knows about me is the texture of my lips lost in thoughts fed by the lack of space between cold stars and golden angels with no notion of the song they play on the saliva i swallow so easy with sadness.
Everything the green knows about me is fron when i walked among trees leting trunks and moss to lick their own lungs while geting inside my skin.
Now i use this green-moss t-shirt as a flag of a lost country that have forgoten me before to vanish.
Showing posts with label green. Show all posts
Showing posts with label green. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
green dreans of a sheep . - by caio fernandes.
green dreans of a sheep . - by caio fernandes.
the sun turned into a merry whisper - not yet
the sun turned into a red whisper - no
the sun turned into a berry whisper . whispers-set behind her purple trees . her whispers , her kiss ( her kisses reveal landscapes in me ) . warm curves of the path , for a straight destiny . warm curves of the female ........ i' m lost .
the transparency of the wings that blows fron my back covering the both hemispheres of this sweet blue green taste . tastes like eternity in bloom .
when Saskia extends her hand it reflects the light of her dreans as a swimming pool . i can even see those reflections dancing on the ceiling .
yesterday :
the black wet stinky disgusting asfalt's mud on shoulders and neck .
- what is this comig fron the top of my head? blood!!?!!
-they are comig again , dad , i see shadows of bodys on the corner.
- hide yourself behind the garbage Melissa . be quiet .
- ohh no no , it isnt then . they aren't coming any more , i am pretty sure now , they went to the subway .
- you're ok , aren't you ?don't tell your mother about this . she is preparing a apfel strudel for the dinner's dessert .
- look dad ! the concrete is cracking everywhere . sidewalk , walls .... there are tinny blue flowers , and yellow , and white growing in it .... is the concrete geting old , dad ?
- yes honey ... and our time to live is coming .
- amen ( and started the singing : grun grun grun grun ist meine welt ... grun grun grun grun ist meine ....)
- AMEN .
the Jesus white light stands me up . i just keep walking , holding the child's hand . i just keep walking against the poluited wind that snarls against us . it is always solitarie to feel like to cry , and hold in silence . Sao Paulo is a altar of sacrifice in the form of a dusty concrete block in this world that is suposed to be beautiful . my body lives in Sao Paulo , keeps walking . while i build the green dreans of a sheep . thank you Lord for your blessings . thank you for give me one more chance .
- we are going to eat apfel strudel for dessert , aren't we , dad ?
- yes we are , honey . YES WE ARE.
today :
the sun turned into a merry red berry whisper ... it is so easy to love her yet .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ok girls , don't panic . i am still single . Saskia is the only one that realy happened in my life , but ... now al the time i am with another woman , what is rare , and she start's to gets on my nerves , i get deaf and blind and pretend Saskia is there .
( Saskia Hagenaars Verveen Morrone : 1977 - 2005 )
Melissa isn't my daughter . she is 8 years old and i am the only adult man that she met since she was 2 years old . to call me dad is her personal joke , she actualy doesn't believe in it (what is even sadier because i love her ) . her mother Cecilia is a widow that gives piano classes in her onw home for to live . and some times prepare italian or german recepies adapted for our vegan lifestyle , than she calls me for taste and trys to teach me how to prepare , but i never learn , i just preparie in home my onw bronw bread , green os white tea , and some vegetables ... and when i am loaded , feeling like to eat as a milionarie , i buy a doritos bag ( the large one baby!! yeah!!) .
between Cecilia and me , will never hapem anything : our friendship is too perfect to be destroyed by sex and wedding ( she says) . the truth is that she knows i still have this Saskia hole in me and she doesn't acept to be a mere substitute . what is fair enough . and she expects fron a man what her husband was , while i am the oposite of that . he was a wealthy successful guy , and i pray for the miracle of the multiplication on my painting materials as Jesus did with fishies and bread for the crowd ( what seens to works ) .
so we both are patetics and live haunted by our pasts . nothing bad for 2 people that have met at the college in 1997 , studing psichology .
the sun turned into a merry whisper - not yet
the sun turned into a red whisper - no
the sun turned into a berry whisper . whispers-set behind her purple trees . her whispers , her kiss ( her kisses reveal landscapes in me ) . warm curves of the path , for a straight destiny . warm curves of the female ........ i' m lost .
the transparency of the wings that blows fron my back covering the both hemispheres of this sweet blue green taste . tastes like eternity in bloom .
when Saskia extends her hand it reflects the light of her dreans as a swimming pool . i can even see those reflections dancing on the ceiling .
yesterday :
the black wet stinky disgusting asfalt's mud on shoulders and neck .
- what is this comig fron the top of my head? blood!!?!!
-they are comig again , dad , i see shadows of bodys on the corner.
- hide yourself behind the garbage Melissa . be quiet .
- ohh no no , it isnt then . they aren't coming any more , i am pretty sure now , they went to the subway .
- you're ok , aren't you ?don't tell your mother about this . she is preparing a apfel strudel for the dinner's dessert .
- look dad ! the concrete is cracking everywhere . sidewalk , walls .... there are tinny blue flowers , and yellow , and white growing in it .... is the concrete geting old , dad ?
- yes honey ... and our time to live is coming .
- amen ( and started the singing : grun grun grun grun ist meine welt ... grun grun grun grun ist meine ....)
- AMEN .
the Jesus white light stands me up . i just keep walking , holding the child's hand . i just keep walking against the poluited wind that snarls against us . it is always solitarie to feel like to cry , and hold in silence . Sao Paulo is a altar of sacrifice in the form of a dusty concrete block in this world that is suposed to be beautiful . my body lives in Sao Paulo , keeps walking . while i build the green dreans of a sheep . thank you Lord for your blessings . thank you for give me one more chance .
- we are going to eat apfel strudel for dessert , aren't we , dad ?
- yes we are , honey . YES WE ARE.
today :
the sun turned into a merry red berry whisper ... it is so easy to love her yet .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ok girls , don't panic . i am still single . Saskia is the only one that realy happened in my life , but ... now al the time i am with another woman , what is rare , and she start's to gets on my nerves , i get deaf and blind and pretend Saskia is there .
( Saskia Hagenaars Verveen Morrone : 1977 - 2005 )
Melissa isn't my daughter . she is 8 years old and i am the only adult man that she met since she was 2 years old . to call me dad is her personal joke , she actualy doesn't believe in it (what is even sadier because i love her ) . her mother Cecilia is a widow that gives piano classes in her onw home for to live . and some times prepare italian or german recepies adapted for our vegan lifestyle , than she calls me for taste and trys to teach me how to prepare , but i never learn , i just preparie in home my onw bronw bread , green os white tea , and some vegetables ... and when i am loaded , feeling like to eat as a milionarie , i buy a doritos bag ( the large one baby!! yeah!!) .
between Cecilia and me , will never hapem anything : our friendship is too perfect to be destroyed by sex and wedding ( she says) . the truth is that she knows i still have this Saskia hole in me and she doesn't acept to be a mere substitute . what is fair enough . and she expects fron a man what her husband was , while i am the oposite of that . he was a wealthy successful guy , and i pray for the miracle of the multiplication on my painting materials as Jesus did with fishies and bread for the crowd ( what seens to works ) .
so we both are patetics and live haunted by our pasts . nothing bad for 2 people that have met at the college in 1997 , studing psichology .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)