Tag Archives: poetry

towards and towards


weak lamp and strong silent space
the little cabin hidden in the backward behind grape tree and bushes exposes its red bricks and opened window to breath the cold air of the night

i don’t know my name, can’t discover how it has been written beyond the deep blue

it is a priceless privilege to barefooted walk in dark among ferns and sleeping white flowers to reach the cabin where the mountain bike is kept and work on it…. it is so cold this night …. i had to take my shirt off and feel every detail of the low temperature getting into my skin.
“at dawn i ride”
holding greasy tools i pray to Jesus to keep His strong hand over me as He has always done protecting, washing me

dog licks his paw and its sound is blended with the steam of the tea cup.

…after many hills, steam coming out of my mouth, death in its many forms was faced, suppressed and ignored.
sky getting lighter, clouds, drizzle. what not to love about it?
trees trees trees they are all singing perfumes, as the fresh earth around my warm green black flannel shirt and celeste blue helmet.

the front wheel is so slippery on the mud, here I go one more downhill over the roots and rocks with success.
amen! i do praise the Lord for this.

i must to pass by and stop to see

that swiss wooden house among pine trees with little hearts sculpted on the balcony and green door.
i must to pass by that grey stone house that looks like a little castle.
i must to pass by the red brick house with big window that is for sale and one day will be mine.
i must to pass by those eucalyptus.
i must to pass by the anglican cathedral and the Scandinavian luteran church because they are so beautiful.
before to head to the trail.
as I always do.

the front wheel is so slippery on the mud, here I go one more downhill over the roots and rocks with success.
amen! i do praise the Lord for this.

capybaras awaken already as the monkeys and birds…. if it was sunny the lizards and snakes would be searching for the early sunshine.  but they hide from me anyway. you understand it as you want.

what am i up to? why am i doing this?
Blitzkrieg over myself, space and time.
with one hand I play with my dog….. i pray the psalm because it is true and never fails.
i am safe and save.

do you see this silence? is the deep breath before “_____”

wear brown hiking boots, put on:
towards and towards.
towards and towards
towards and towards
towards and towards

a source of spiritual misery. ——– by Caio Fern.


 Image

 

Oh, the electricity must to be saved this month. Let’s only use flash lights I bought for camping that didn’t happen yet, it is late of night and will make the neighbors freak out thinking there is a thief at home.
.
She is skinny and beautiful but since when it is secrete the fact men like me have a strong preference for more fleshy women?
.
I could be quite in my corner pretending I am one of them but I had to take risks. I know what you are talking behind my back. I know because others have said the same before. It is your lack of authenticity that makes you a stranger to me, not what you think or do. I know what it leads to… I’ve survived many times.
.
As long as I understood, Jesus said the sons of the world are smart for the things of this world but the sons of God aren’t so much. It only proves to Whom all my existence belongs. I don’t know what to do with myself and I am too old to learn new tricks. I don’t know how to survive and the fact I am alive proves that miracles happen every single day all the time.
.
It is all very disappointing because everything I can do with a group I do much better and faster alone. So I put the helmet on and one of my old flannel shirts. I face the cold wind and never look back listening to music composed and recorded in distant countries because they remind me of the life I don’t have, but share the feelings. After many kilometers: DAWN.
.
Dawn is never glamorous or pretty as I can’t see it through buildings and other concrete constructions. It is more like an intuition that something new is up to start. And in fact something new starts… but nothing changes. How can something new starts if the old things never get finished? So…..
.
You leave home with faith that in some corner someone will notice you and give you a chance to live with dignity and be loved. You do many things to force it to happen, you do all the right things and the wrong things, you go to all the kinds of places and cross the world. After so many years you only go back home and take your shoes off saying to yourself tomorrow is a new day, who knows, brush your teeth before to go to bed.
.
She is skinny and beautiful. And so smart and mature for her age…. but is still too young for me. She wants to experiment things I am already tired to know. She has to pass by situations I don’t want to pass anymore and I hated when it happened. We can’t be together. She says she loves me, she doesn’t, she loves the lies I told her and will never confess.
.
It is weird to see the world by this angle. Everything is so far from this remote flipped over south side. What is the difference between watching a movie with Hobbits or a documentary about the global economy? So it is nice to wear my best suit with English cut to ride a Chinese bike listening to Swiss musik being an German-Italian guy with a Portuguese last name in a South American country going to a Japanese supermarket buying Brazilian supplies and prepare Bavarian food throwing bites to my Tibetan dogs while watching North American sitcoms. What does it mean? Nothing. Obvious identity is for cowards.
.
ohhh. But I am a coward. Guilty. As every man I have my list of necessities. Things I must to conquer in this life. Recently I realized all my dreams aren’t less silly and useless than the list of toys I used to do for Christmas when was a children.  I don’t want to face the fact all I need for real is death and salvation. Who is brave enough to embrace this? Death is natural, but salvation…. Would I recognize real light if I see it? Would I see it anyway?
.
So it is Saturday-Sunday past midnight and soon I will go out to ride, among drizzle, junks, drunk drivers, dirt, and whores. Among sin and crimes the air is fresher to brief and easier to run. Sure I fear for myself. There is always a chance to be my last ride, breath and sight. I am a stag in the forest, not a predator even if I run and observe as a ranger.
.
It is funny because at 8:00 AM a group of cyclists will be gathered to run all down town, when it is warm and safe. I will be there pretending I am one of them, ignoring what they say behind my back. Hi, you know my name and I am one of you. My lies never end. My body will be exhausted and they will be fat and lazy after breakfasts complain it is too early for a Sunday and are still feeling asleep.  I just want an excuse to ride a little bit more, this time feeling safe even if it is all fake.
.
List of things I must to conquer in this life. Doesn’t matter the results, any idea related to it is a source of spiritual misery.
.

All the arrogance of my hands – by Caio Fern.


 

One more hot shower in a cold day and I will be done before to face the tea and the drizzle out there. 

The dogs stink and my house has a light aroma of  Dijon Mustard, Einsbein and feet. The grey light coming through the not so opened window makes it perfect. 
It is all the same over the dark brow furniture and that is what I fought so much for. Have my prayers been answered already? 

If should I ride the bike with my rain coat or take the subway with my umbrella, if should I stay home pretending I am doing something useful or dig myself under the blanket…..only the extension of my chest will be able to say. 

So…. if I looked for that specific kind of warm golden skin and breasts was because I only wanted protection while pretended I was the Alfa Male of the situation. She was supposed to worthship me in a cozy presence while I hold her in my arms saying everything would be fine as it was all I wanted so much to hear my entire life. 

Oh yes yes yes my dear, I know more than every one could……  let’s not forget how blessed I am for have been so cursed and never, never whisper or murmur again. One day the sea will be opened and all the difference will be made. I know the promises and  I know my wishes, and… I know very well what I am capable to do, you don’t have to repeat it all over again. Haven’t I kept myself faithful to all this?

All the arrogance of my hands and smiles come from my humble nature, see, it is very naive if you look into my eyes at least once. 
In the shower I realized that only exist three kinds of women in this world : 
 – The ones who throw themselves on me.  
 – The ones who masturbate thinking of me.  
 – And the ones who masturbate thinking about me and then throw themselves on me.  
Yeah, I know I am handsome.

 

When I woke up this morning I felt like a grey bubble filled with all the traumas and negativity of my life was been taking out of my body and soul for good. Then I fell asleep again. Then I woke up almost noon. Then I noticed it was drizzling. Then the aquarium fishes needed to be fed. Then I felt cold and dirt. Then I forgot all I was supposed to do in my life. Then I was free. Then I remembered all my life was supposed to be and isn’t. Then I was miserable again. 

It is so peaceful to be a failure in flesh holding a hot mug in the cold afternoon while all the success out there in the world struggles so hard to keep their miserable prosperity. 
Let me just sit here in front of my bike leaned against the wall while the harry red dog lies on my feet  working on his new bone. I quit the world again, I am free for today.

I confess it is only me …………………………and I almost don’t mind.


The living room smells and I am part of it.
Have hiking boots for distant mountain tracks I don’t even know on.
Helmet on, gloves on, camping backpack on, favorite flannel shirt on, pants on, thick socks on, flash lights on, Swiss Army knife on.

Who is the one
Who promised to forget all the pretty songs
Who rides its hybrid bike alone
Who goes to church as holding a gun
Who has green tea in front of an aquarium with wooden tea water and uber filled with green moss
Who listens the dogs barking loud
Who prefers when the days are cold
Who the favorite color is green but says it is blue
…….and eats apples with a cup of cold milk standing in the backyard looking up trying to find a piece of sky?

I confess it is me
I confess it is me
I confess it is only me.
……………………………..and I almost don’t care.

Tons of homemade sauerkraut again.
Kept in sterilized jars of glass piled inside the wooden cupboard.
The trees were all planted only at the other side of the city.
Does anyone truly believe South America exists?

I am tense balancing my life over fragile two wheels.
Paranoid about cars and buses coming against me
And homeless crack junkies watching me as hounds from the sidewalk.
It is so nice…calm and quiet.. and full of life
Speeding up under drizzle and rain and darkness and silence with no witness for crimes.
So lonely only wishing to leave here fast and escape with no harm.

Who is the one
Who has a fake German watch and an authentic Italian tie
Who doesn’t clean the house very well
Who paints self portraits different of how he looks like to see it for real
Who collects pictures of tiny green houses and dream
Who prays to Jesus with Faith
Who keeps Java Moss in mugs in the windows of the bedrooms
Who lives in Sao Paulo loving places as Wisconsin as it was London
Who loves German Shepherds living with four Lhasa Apsos
Who doesn’t care for English speaking but is incapable to write in its own language
Who wears DolceandGabbana fragrance to buy fruits because may have hot girls there
Who is deeply grateful for everything moments before to buy another lottery ticket
…….and eats apples with a cup of cold milk standing in the backyard looking up trying to find a piece of sky?

I confess it is me
I confess it is me
I confess it is only me
…………………………and I almost don’t mind.

Maß


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maß

 
snap crack bite chew,
Cracked my favorite Maß . Now I can drink cold white tea and swallow pieces of glass with taste of blood. Ice cubes too.

border, fringe, brim, border, borderline, edging, skirt … it was made of gold, but I can’t melt it and make a ring for whom I love.
I love no one.

All is an endless new beginning where nothing real never happens.
I was born too old for this.
Now I am older and more naive, a perfect victim.

The perfect victim must to be frustrated and full of hope.

Patterns should have been a better illusion. They are so comfortable.
Now I have this fleshy spirit of Glory upon Dolce&Gabbanna bouquet around my sperm. Pour Homme. For Men.
The taste of blood still lies in my mouth.
I walk back home, to my almost totally broken Maß .

I wish I could tell things, but this world became too cynic and it makes me ashamed for feeling feelings.

If I use sarcasm it will be ok.

 

So tomorrow I will try to wake up early and pretend I am not even depressed or offended or ashamed, paint all I feel the most sincere way possible and she won’t understand.
She will see it, copy it, hang it, show it, like it and will never know what it means.
And I will take a shower, wear my shirt with a comfortable pattern, tie my tie in a hot day, wear my favorite perfume and leave to work to pay my bills and maybe find a girl on the sidewalk who I can fall in love with.
Melt the cracks of my Maß and make her a golden ring before it starts raining.

—-

, by Caio Fern.

 

AmeriQuebeckian girl and a found Doberman


 

Let me start being a fucking gentleman as usual telling you about Annie and her post on the blog ” Jottings of an AmeriQuebeckian” http://ameriquebeckian.blogspot.ca/2012/06/in-strawberry-patch-with-luciana.html. It is about a Brazilian girl named Luciana and her experience abroad… on this post Annie does a little reference to my post on Mein welt.blogspot blog http://meinwelt-22.blogspot.ca/2012/06/are-you-tough-enough-to-be-painter.html. She calls it essay !!! wow, so far people have referred to the things I write as rant.
See? You need a great writer to recognize another great writer. Thank you Annie. Your essay is beautiful and I am glad to be mentioned on it.

Two day ago, or  three, I had to clean my studio and it was a very tight cleaning as it must to be done… let’s say…. once a year or less. haha.
But I loved it. was like a travel where you find great things that had forgotten.
These last weeks I was sad because in my memory the works made during the year 2009 were very bad. http://www.silentspots.blogspot.com.br/#!http://silentspots.blogspot.com/2010/01/2009-building-new-life.html , for a long time I have only had contact with then by photos on computer and didn’t look at the real ones.
It was so good to see then and be in peace… they are wonderful… how did I paint those colors !!!! the photos suck… suck suck suck.
But I discovered, or rediscovered painting from many years ago, 12, 13 years old…. they are like relatives to me , beloved relatives.
I found this Doberman on the back of a very good painting, this Doberman must to be from 2004 and I was at the time doing lots of very small painting of dogs, flowers, and things like that … all lost because were made on the back of canvasses used later for real paintings, or made in little pieces of canvasses just for fun and later went to the garbage can or were given as gift.

ahhh.. what else ? I was walking on the street thinking and had so much to write about ?
this is it. I give up… if I remember I write later.

If you want to see more about Annie’s poems visit http://salamanderpoems.blogspot.com.br/ . The blog is so good that even has Caio Fern’s painting somewhere.

Regina’s poetry.


Regina, on her blog OBISTERPEAK,  used this painting of mine from 2002 for her good and honest poem. Thank you Regina.
and you can visit her Flickr page with wonderful and inspiring photos here : http://www.flickr.com/photos/33005948@N06/