Atualização.

Hoje vou atualizar meu catálogo de sonhos.
Os sonhos que eu criei pra mim até agora
Na verdade são os sonhos de outrem
Não os meus.

Por muito tempo acreditei que meus eram
Mas não o são.

Alguém os imbuiu em mim
Os repetiu com frequência
E uma mentira repetida mil vezes
Acaba tornando-se verdade
Confundindo-se verdade
Mentirando-se em verdade.

Meu entorno está mudado
E eu não estou.
Se eu não me adaptar
Não vou sobreviver.
Estou mal sobrevivendo agora
Mais um pouco e

O fracasso se torna o ápice da morte.

Acostume-se com a ideia.
As coisas não são mais do jeito que você foi criada.
Os discos e as histórias de princesas nunca foram verdade.
Não há sucesso, não há emoção, não há reinos e castelos e cortes.
Não há dinheiro então não há mais nada.

Só há trabalho.
A labuta e a falta nos farão mais fortes
Tecnicamente.
Tenho que me fazer mais forte
Mais destemida
A fim de superar esse medo
Medo de fracassar
Medo dos olhares de pena
Medo dos dedos apontados
Medo das palavras afiadas

Convença-se.
Esses sonhos não são seus.
Esses sonhos não são meus.
Repita isso mil vezes
E tornar-se-à verdade.

Talvez assim a dor e o medo passem.

Ganbatte!

So conditioned to look up
Can't we just be upside down?

See your life from different spots
Change perspective, think a lot

Work your posture, strength, and flex
Join the circus, do your best

Try to just ignore the pain
See the future, see the fame

Sequins gold in light air shine
Rising bright and flying high

Hear the roar of my applause
All the effort's worth the sobs.


Summer. 2011.

One Cry

I don't know if I can cry
If I do, can't make a sound
I don't like to feel inside
Wants to kill, to hurt, to die.

I don't know how I grew up
So unlike and so apart
I don't know how I can live
In a place that's not my own
I don't know why I'd care for
One I don't love anymore

I don't know what to do next
I don't know what move is best
I don't know if I can stay
But I have nowhere to go
I sure know that I can't stay
But there's nowhere else to go.

I don't know how else to please
When I do, rude's all I see
I don't know what else to say
If I'm all misunderstood
I don't know what could I ask
For all answers are to hurt
I don't know what to respond
When I don't know what you mean.

I don't even want to try
I just want to live my life
Make the choices that I make
Without judgment to stain
I want to cry my guts out
And be able to speak out
I want to cry and scream and shout
And have no one to explain

I just want to be let go
Is that so too much to ask?

Summer. 2010.

A silly little love poem

As I fall in love with you
Doing all the silly stuff
Smiling all the silly smiles
Singing all the silly songs
Dancing all that stupid dance
Happy in being so sure
That you're silly just the same

2010. Spring.

Canção de amigo

Tendo o autor no bem-querer
É difícil ler sua obra
E pensar literatura.

O amor de outrora dói
Pela injustiça de tal core
Ser jogado assim ao vento
Ser ferido assim no tempo
Ser magoado assim no chão.

Esse amor assim me sangra
Sendo tudo o que eu mais quero
Tendo medo de tal mágoa
De fechar seu coração.

De perder assim o bardo
Cujo amor é infinito
Cujo abraço é acalanto
Cuja companhia é sal
Sal, açúcar, vinho e trova.

A canção que escrevo ao amigo
Mostra assim a minha dor
E o medo de nem ser
A segunda mais querida
Do carinho desse homem.

Não tenciono ser primeira;
Essa dor e essa ferida
Levam tempo, levam choro
Pra que o mar da areia apague--
Tenho calma, e eu espero.

A chave do coração
Que no fundo lá se encontra
Será minha, serás minha!
Mesmo que me vente contra
Persevero e aqui espero.

Estando meu coração aberto
Não me necessita casa
Espero que a tua se abra
Enquanto isso, aqui tu pousas
Recostado em meu abraço
Tens a casa sempre aberta
Tens o meu sorriso pronto
Tens meu amor; e isso me basta.

Inverno. 2010.

Journée au naturelle

Quero luz de verdade
luz do sol
sol nas nuvens
nuvens de Monet.

Quero ar de verdade
ar solto e livre
ignorando os carros
e os espaços fechados.

Quero viver com um bicho.
Faz tanto tempo desde leal
Enquanto não tenho um,
Me acompanham os gatos da rua.

Quero uma estrela,
a primeira da noite,
fita-la até tremer
que trema ela, ou eu.

Quero ouvir os pássaros
Marrecos buzinando no lago
Quero ver minhas borboletas
Todas elas, todas cores,
Todas flores.

2010. Winter.

Timid surprises

How could I possibly ever
In this world make you shy?

With you I pulverize into sighs
I melt under the sounds of your voice
I smile over the heat of a shared seat
I burn with the intensity of my eyes
Staring when nobody's watching.

For these moments, for now,
Are mine and only mine
--I wish they were yours, too.

For a while I too have been shy
But one's kindness is stronger,
No grandeur is obstacle to me.
Such adorable tenderness
Should be praised, nurtured,
--And if you let me, I will.

I must not make you shy!
You're so much more heart
I want to learn that from you
So come. Don't be shy.

2010. Winter.

Multiplicities

The men in my head
Fuse inside and on
I want them all.
This sweetness, that boyhood, this other intimacy, that other sex.

I feel them all on me
At the same time.
One’s groove, two’s calmness, three’s intensity, four’s hunger.

I crave for one and for all
I am completely theirs.
A’s eyes, B’s poise, C’s admiration, D’s cumplicity.

They’ll never know
How much I Love them all.
Love is universal and complete

This is not a tie,
This is not arresting
My holding them into my arms
Will never hold them back.

My head
In my lowly-lit orgy
Holds me in their arms
Sings me to sleep in one of their voices
Listens to me with other’s intense eyes
Attentive eyes
And I smell another.
At the same time the timid touch of the boy’s hands cover me in naught

But the taste is the one I don’t want to remember
The one I’d deny all my principles for
Inconditional, unlimited delight
The one I did wrong by doing him right.

This fusion is driving me mad
I want one in reality
Not twenty in mind
Give me one, I’ll trade them all off

...But which?

2010. Winter.

Interview with an Invisible Man

Tell me you're not an illusion
Tell me I already know you
Tell me I'm going to know you

Tell me you're part of my life now
Tell me you're behind the scenes here
Waiting to tell me I'm pretty

Waiting for the time to come now
Waiting to tell me you love me
Waiting to come take me home now

Tell me you're my guardian angel
Tell me that you'll make me smile then
Tell me you're proud of my success

Tell me you're willing to love me
Tell me you're not an illusion
Tell me my dreams will come true.


Summer. 2010

Midnight.

How long had it been
Since I had last kissed midnight?

Her gentle cold breeze
Her silence
Her expectation.

Midnight feels free to me.

I had a feeling
It became a solid dream.

Midnight sleeps as I dream awake
As I feel the coconut candy dreams
Directly on my skin
Under my skin.

Goodfellow sleeps and sweeps
As a magic day is born in mist.


2009. Winter.

Now what?

The party ends
The guests are home
Safe
With whom they belong.

The host?

Cornered by loneliness
In a planet full of people.
Silenced by disease
In a song full of voices.
Opressed by pain
In a home full of obstacles.

But nobody knows that
neither cares.

The host?

A pleasant memory at best.

Winter. 2009.

Unexpected

I did not see this coming.

The charms of Puss in Boots
The strong and sweet gentle-man
Is it just the stereotype
Or does indeed red blood boil stronger?

Oh I did not see this coming.

So unlike the dreams I had,
So unlike the men I've had,
So unlike in such a good way...
My smiles are now unstoppable.

I really did not see this coming.

No one is this kind
No one is this gentle
No one is this sweet
No one is this passionate.
And this detachment will sure hurt.

And what I expected the least
Was to crave this badly
For the moment I could say,
'Nobody's leaving.'

Curiosities

What do I dream about...?
New people are so curious.

I giggle at the idea
Of being this curious, too.

Let us say I dream.
I dream of being my own
I dream of having control
I dream of being alone
But not that very much alone...

You can keep me company
For a while
If you want to.

I smile at the idea
Of being this gentle, too.

And I blush at the idea
Of keeping you company, too.

Heart Arrest

"We cannot get out."

Damn sure we can't.
So why bother fighting?

Just lay down and die
Wait for sweet death to come
And give you another chance.
Maybe next time
I won't be this unhappy.

The blur in my eyes makes me blind
The weight in my chest makes me weak
The weakness in my mind makes me quit.

I can't see an exit.
We cannot get out.

I can't see a point in life anymore.
Why bother?
Why do we bother?

Why do we work?
Why do we study?
Why do we love?
If none of our choices
is ours to make?

Why are we presented with utmost happiness
If we don't get permission to live it?
Why are we under heart arrest?

...And still, we cannot get out
They are coming.


Meg Fornazari. Morning, February 11th, 2009.

Declaração

Anjo, homem, príncipe
Gosto e encanto da minha vida
Minha inspiração e um pouco de ídolo
Te amo.

Joyce, poética e Intimacy

Extraído de A Portrait of The Artist as a Young Man, de James Joyce:

"A glow of desire kindled again his soul and fired and fulfilled all his body. Conscious of his desire she was waking from odorous sleep, the temtress of vis villanelle. Her eyes, dark and with a look of languor, were opening to his eyes. Her nakedness yielded to him, radiant, warm, odorous and lavish limbed, enfolded him like a shining cloud, enfolded him like water with a liquid life: and like a cloud of vapour or like waters circumfluent in space the liquid letters of speech, symbols of the element of mystery, flowed forth over his brain."

Pronto. Em um parágrafo você descobre o que é inspiração, e entende como funciona. E de uma coisa dessas acima, sai uma coisa dessas abaixo:

Intimacy

I don't want to possess,
for I want him to want to come home to me.
I want him to need me consciously.

I don't want to own either,
for I want him to have the choice to always stay.
I want him to choose to stay, every day.

I want to be intimate,
for this is the only way I feel like one entire person,
not a shard
not a piece
of a woman who lacks something.

I love him deeply.
I need him strongly.
I want him with me.
And I feel calm enough to wait.

Wait for him to come back,
Wait for his arms,
Wait for his eyes,
Wait for his love,

Now,
In a bit,
And forever.

22:57 13/11/2008

Speechless

What else could I ever,
Ever possibly say at this point,
At this point to you other than,
'Come'?

Possessed Beauty

How can I deny the way I feel?
By denying my feelings
I would deny myself.

I feel a craving I cannot fulfill alone.
I feel a desire I can't quite control.
I feel a warm glow flow in my chest.

I feel something being re-created
--Something long gone and deceased,
--Something that seems to grow in light,
Caused by a beauty I have before forbidden myself to see.

But now I am free to see, and,
May my Mentor forgive me,
For this is Beauty indeed,
And I want to own it.

'Beauty', he said once, 'is not to be owned;
It is to be seen, loved, admired, quite Platonically,
But it is not to be owned.
Then, it would turn into something... else.'

I believe you, O Mentor,
But this feeling I cannot deny;
This beauty I must own.
I must possess it as my own.

I must kiss him, hold him, smell him,
Savor all the beauty in that person,
Savor it as if there was no tomorrow,
Freely and joyfully,
I must hold that beauty close to me.

But why must I? Why the painful craving?
Why has the rebirth of my soul
Turned out to be more than I expected?
And still,
Why do I get less
Much less
Of all the fire I expected?

I seem to be alive again;
Not for that person, but for myself.

Though it would be just perfectly lovely
To own that beauty as I love myself.

Aborted Soul

I feel dead inside.
Yesterday afternoon, my soul
was ripped from my chest.
I am really not myself.
Something has died in me,
it felt like an abortion.
There's a void in my chest.
I only wait and hope, but...
How will I bring back an
aborted soul?

I used to see beauty and bliss,
everything is gone.
I used to feel happiness and love,
everything is gone.
I used to dream, but how could I dream?
Everything is gone...
And how will I bring beauty
back into my soul?

If I see myself now, I'll cry.
If I hear certain things now, I'll cry.
I'm not who I am anymore.
I'm not alive anymore.
I have become a zombie.

Zombie as I am, in this undead life,
All that is holy hurts me,
all that is beautiful annoys me,
all that is lovely stings.

Love stings when it's not here.
Love does not lift me anymore.
Love is petrified and still.

Will I receive a Remedy?
Will I be Revivified?
Will my love be Softened back
to life?
Will I come back alive?

...Will I come back alive?

Falling Asleep

Falling Asleep

The moon is shining brightly out there.
I can see it, through the transparency of the curtains.
It's almost full, oh, how beautiful...

I have my hand running through my man's dark, thick hair.
How soft it is...
The hair,
The man,
And the sleeping.

Soft and deep as a swimming pool,
Covered by a black satin sheet,
Like the one we all dive in
When we fall asleep.

Some do it quickly,
Some do it slowly,
Some don't do it at all...

For the one who dives in quickly,
I want more of your time.
For the one who dives in slowly,
Best of luck on using your time.
For the one who doesn't sleep,
I've had more than enough of your time.

But now, farewell.
My satin dive awaits.

by Meggie Fornazari
January 20th, 2008. Midnight.