the wind and the tree

You are the wind and I am the tree... you slowly caress my leaves and your whispers break the silence I live in like a light that conquers the dark. I can feel you in me! The warmth of your breath on my skin and the cold tough of your imaginary fingers running all over my willing body. I am ready. I dare not compare you to such a destructive force such as a hurricane. But the truth is that you blew into my life as swiftly and destructively as a hurricane. You demolished every protective barrier I set up to shield myself from feelings... Now, I am at the heart of the storm relishing the unknown, waiting for what's to come. Bring it on, I say! Let me dance naked in the rain, with arms opened and eyes shut. Tasting the rain that you bring. Tasting life, defying reality! Experiencing a death-defying something that I've never felt before. The prey becomes predator and the predator hides in fear... absolutely terrified of his new role in this tumultuous world. Everything is in reverse! Nothing makes sense. But I've learned that sense is for fools. And thus, leaving sense in a secret drawer I picture that you are the wind and I am the tree...

P.S. Led Zeppelin is the best band ever! \m/

My Affair...

The wind is silenced by the rain... It has been silent for quite some time. I miss it's voice and the way it caresses my skin. I miss how I close my eyes and listen to the subtle whispers no one else can hear. I miss how it taunts me, how it seduces me and reels me in like a big salmon caught on a big shiny hook. But the rain has subdued the gentle wind... and now I feel lonely... more than ever. When will the wind whistle past through me once more? Where are you? and why can't I hear your sweet voice whispering in my ear all that I want to hear? It feels like it's been raining for a thousand years! My soul is drenched in rain! I want the wind! I want the win and it's promises! I want the wind and it's secrets... I want you now... tomorrow will come too late!

Visions of loveliness wake me in the middle of the night like nightmare that has no ending. And as my breathing settles I realize you're still no where to be found. I can't hear you. All is silent. A tear rushes me back to sleep and I dream of you.

I sit here quietly and watch the rain fall from my window... I am waiting with eyes wide shut hoping to hear your soothing voice calling to me through the night... I wait... and wait... and despair seeps in, but I don't let it show. No one knows this secret of mine... my affair with the wind...

All of me

You took my kisses and all my love

You taught me how to care

Am I to be just remnant

of a one side loveaffair

All you took

I gladly gave

There's nothing left for me to save

All of me

Why not take all of me

Can't you see

I'm no good without you

Take my lips

I want to lose them

Take my arms

I'll never use them

Your goodbye left me

with eyes that cry

How can I go on dear without you

You took the part that

once was my heart

So why not take all of me...

American Hearts - AA Bondy

American Hearts... a great album by AA Bondy! One of my favorites, actually!

Alone

Uncontrollable urges

run through a body

numbed by thoughts

and senseless actions.

I hold a trembling cup

in my glass hand.

I trip and fall

and all is lost...

all is broken...

My hand... my cup.

I walk through

the broken glass

and the pieces

prick my feet.

A pool of blood

is left behind

to remind me

of what I've done...

The moon owls

and the wolf hides.

I dance naked

under the stars

hoping for a sign.

But the signs

are yet to be seen.

And no one comes

to share this madness.

I sit down and realize

I am alone...

bored to death

I'm freaking bored... Nothing to do. I'm tired but I just can't make myself fall asleep. Nothing good on TV. Read all the books I have here. Have everything packed and double-checked for my trip tomorrow. It's raining, so I can't go for a walk. Already had tea and put on my pj's. Have watched all the movies I brought with me. None of my friends are online but I don't think I feel much like talking. I have nothing to say. Everything is the same as it was last week... last month... boring... same old boring life.

I am sitting at my desk watching the rain fall outside. A person is suposed to feel something... watching the rain fall... hearing it's sounds and trying to unveil it's mysteries. I can't feel a thing. And I'm not worried! I actully find it funny. I laugh... and think of how I used to feel so much, so fast. Now, I just feel numb. I guess it's because I'm so bored. Nothing seems new to me. I feel like every feeling I ever felt has been repeated... over and over... and over... and over... But now that I realized this, I broke the cycle. But, by breaking this cycle I somehow lost touch with my feelings. I'm in this sort of numbing Limbo. But I'm enjoying this absence of feeling... it's pretty calm and quiet. Sometimes we need peace and quiet. :) But I'm still bored to death...

simpsonized...

This is the Simpsonized version of me... :) Pretty groovy!

homemade tapes

Sim, (ainda) estou viva...

Mais um fim-de-semana que passou rapidamente... Estive o tempo todo de pijama, no meu quarto a ver filmes, a ouvir música e a tocar guitarra. Foram uns belos 3 dias. E sim, como estou sem novidades, estou a dar dois deditos de treta (só para saberem que ainda estou viva... alive and kicking, como diz o outro). E hoje, ao final da tarde, mais uma viagenzita até ao minho. Faço essa viagem todas as semanas. Já está programada no meu computador de bordo (cérebro). Comboio até S.Bento, uma subida até à Cordoaria para apanhar o bus para o meio do monte (Arcos-de-Valdevez). Três dias a fingir que ouço a minha mãe (e a dar formação) e regresso a Aveiro - apanho o bus até ao Porto, desço os Clérigos e apanho o comboio para Aveiro. Like clockwork, my people! A minha companhia durante estas viagens são: o mp3 (neste momento, entupido com the darkness) e um livro (neste momento, ando a ler Poe - I love him). E perguntam vocês: "Ednicas, porque não fazes essa viagem de carro?" Ao que eu repondo: "Porque me stressa muito conduzir. Hoje em dia os condutores não têm cuidado nenhum, querem todos ser pilotos da formula 1. Também fica muito mais caro (ai, o preço dos combustíveis! como diz um amigo meu, JISAS CRAISTE!!!). E, por último, sou uma despistada e sou bem capaz de ir parar à Espanha (se a música que estou a ouvir for suficientemente boa para me pôr a cantar)."

É assim que viajo entre o norte e o centro de Portugal, absorta num mundo de pensamentos que vou criando para me distrair (e entreter). Embrulhada em situações banais, triviais do dia-a-dia. Anónima e feliz num universo de anonimato... Mas... sim, estou aqui e (ainda) estou viva...

A Case Of You

This is one of my favourite songs... by Joni Mitchell

À espera que o sono espreite...

O cansaço rasga-me a alma... Sentada, inerte, flutuo no tecto e vejo-me a olhar para o ecrã do computador sem piscar os olhos... sou um zombie viciado em tecnologia. Procuro o contacto onde ele não existe. Despacho o medo sem saber de onde ele vem. Ignoro os sentimentos que estão na ponta dos meus dedos... quentes... desesperados por um toque menos ambíguo. Caio em mim e reparo que estou, mais uma vez, sozinha no meu quarto. Entre quatro paredes mal pintadas e tristes, ligo o aquecedor para tentar aquecer o corpo gélido que (ainda) mantenho vivo.

Mais um cigarro... menos um dia de vida. Com este cigarro crio a ilusão de entorpecimento do cérebro, ou seja, "acredito" que mantenho o pensamento longe de ideias conflituosas (tortuosas). Mais um dia que chega ao fim. Amanhã, virá outro que passará e, de novo, encontrar-me-ei aqui, nesta cadeira, não-confiante e alheia a tudo que deveria ser tão claro para mim. Estarei aqui a analisar um rosário de contas sem fim de "coisas" que ninguém alguma vez se lembraria de imaginar, em vez de enfrentar o que realmente deveria... E assim passarei mais um dia, sentada à minha secretária, até ficar com o rabo adormecido, à espera que o sono espreite...

Big Yellow Taxi

" Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone!" - Joni Mitchell

So true! I agree with her... we always want what we can't have. We only realize how good things are after we've lost them or take them for granted. And then what do we do? We kick ourselves in the ass and try to get it back but sometimes it's just too late. And then what do we do? We do it all over again... It's funny how sometimes we don't learn what we should. We only pay attention to what's not important and overlook the most trivial and beautiful things in our lives. Why is that? Why are we such assholes? Why are we such idiots?

"...a big yellow taxi took away my old man..." - Joni Mitchell

Sometimes we're such assholes that we can't even notice how we're destroying everything and everyone around us. We sabotage our own relationships and blame everyone but ourselves. We point out their faults and never look to our own. We're quick to criticize others and never ourselves. We like to dish dirt on other people but never "enjoy" knowing that others are dishing dirt on us. We love a good scandal... when it's not our own. We love to hear someone else's drama or dificulties but never understand why people are so interested in our own shity dramas. We're funny that way...

A big yellow taxi took away my old man... Joni, you were lucky! My old man didn't even wait for the big yellow taxi... he practically jumped out the window (good thing I don't live on the top floor of my building) or maybe I just shoved him out the door... I haven't decided yet. But I'm more inclined to believe that I did all the shoving and the pushing... I guess I felt it was time to be on my own.

I am loving it! :D I can finally breathe and I feel free and able to express myself in ways I couldn't before because "assholity" prevented me from... well... being myself. In the end, I just got fed up with the whole enchilada and decided to drop it. I got the floor dirty, but not my hands! And now I am my own person - wild and free! I've got my own big yellow taxi to catch...

Hate

I hate the world today

visions of freedom

from the past stay

where they were dreampt.

I hate politicians

and their vicious lies.

I hate their war policies

and their fake cries.

Democracy is dead

your thoughts are theirs

planted in your head

to settle your despairs.

I hate empty words

that are vomited

by people in herds

pretending they're blessed...

I hate the struggle

as I face adversity

I hate what I felt

when you left me

I hate all the lies

whispered by lovers

looking in my eyes

as they think of others.

I hate the tears

that roll down my face

death appears

and I can't erase

the hatred inside

that burns within

and I try to hide

the ash that remains

from my funeral pyre

dreampt in restraint.

I hate you, you liar!

These words were hung

but they aren't true.

This hatred has sprung

from my love for you...

Words of Passion

"An unjust law is no law at all." - St. Augustine

These are words of passion. These words provided the foundation of civil disobedience movements across the globe. Revolution! Passion and belief... passion in belief! In the past minorities have fought passionatly for their beliefs, for their rights and for their freedom. And it was righteous! And now... what have we become? A disfunctional society of robots thrust into a daily routine... a flock of passionless sheep striving for material goods. Eating up every comercial publicity stunt that wants nothing more but to reach deep into our pockets by convincing us that we need what we don't need. Drinking the poison that springs up from the mouths of politicians. Hopeless zombies conformed... without beliefs... without passion. What does the future hold for us? Slaves to technology, slaves to coin... slaves, nonetheless. When will we wake up and think for ourselves? I look around and see my friends that mimic thoughts other people had long ago, not knowing where they came from, and it saddens me... it frightens me! We must pause and look back in history to find the inspiration to stand up to opression that, even subtle, still exists. We all talk too much, not knowing the meaning of our words, and we're lacking in action.

Our passion for words has withered... And our words of passion have faded away throughout history...

Broken

Broken thoughts

of a broken mind

and a body faces

unwilling time.

Hands clenched

and eyes shut

peace soon comes

but death's not bought...

A meaningless life

with unfulfilled dreams

nightmares are reality

surrounded by screams

in a confortable prison

of my own creation.

No unknown destiny,

only a fated damnation...

Predictions are predictable

and hope dies...

The whispers of a poet

Are all timeless lies!

All of the possible doors

are sealed with a kiss

Never to be reopened

to let loose bliss...

Memories bring

words left unspoken.

Sorrow seeps in,

my soul is broken...

The Door To My Heart...

The door to my heart

is slowly being shut.

My lips are cold

and my skin's old.

My eyes are teary

and my hands are weary.

My soul as withered

and I grew bitter

from all the sorrow,

vacant hopes of tomorrow.

Dream turns to nightmare.

Feelings hard to bare

haunt me at night.

And the flicker of a light

isn't enough to warm

this body I deform

with modern vanities.

I cannot appease

this monster within

that drives me to sin.

The real hell is living

and you're the devil grining

While I smile back

as you strike and attack,

robbing me of my soul,

dispatching me from this world...

My thoughts disperse

and I don't know what's worst:

iminent death

or a sigh for a last breath.

LENORE - Edgar Allan Poe

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!

Let the bell toll! -a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river -

And, Guy De Vere, hast thou no tear? -weep now or never more!

See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!

Come! let the burial rite be read -the funeral song be sung! -

An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young -

A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.

"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,

And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her -that she died!

How shall the ritual, then, be read? -the requiem how be sung

By you -by yours, the evil eye, -by yours, the slanderous tongue

That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?

"Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song

Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong!

The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,

Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride -

For her, the fair and debonnaire, that now so lowly lies,

The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes -

The life still there, upon her hair -the death upon her eyes.

Avaunt! tonight my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,

But waft the angel on her flight with a paean of old days!

Let no bell toll! -lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,

Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damned Earth.

To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven -

From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven -

From grief and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven."

R.I.P.

What will become of those who dwell in misery? Of those who need disaster as inspiration to write or create any other form of artistic expression? I am one of them... I fight violently against this lack of inspiration that has taken over, against the loss of passion for light... Dwelling in darkness has become confortable. I've always heard that you should write what you know and that's what I try to do; I write what I know - and all I've known is sorrow. To the people who read or apreciate what they (we) do, it is a blessing that we feel these (tormented) feelings with such intensity that we either translate them into words (or other means) or explode! Sometimes, I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest and all of it's million broken pieces are scattered through the air like ash... and like ash the tiny fragments of my broken heart end up falling in diferent far away places, resting on people's hair or skin, on leaves of trees, on the floor, on a river which sweeps them away towards even further away places... and so on. Thus, my heart would live on in others, in Nature. But it would not be known... it would remain the mistery that it is today.

Maybe, sometime soon, the bliss that I secretly long for will knock on my door or maybe kick me when I walk down the street or it will slowly seep in as I grow older. Who Knows? I certainly still haven't been able to define "bliss" nor "love"... I've only known passion. And recently I've developed a passionate hunger for life. I've decided that I've been drowning in sadness and melancholy for far too long. I've started to enjoy each moment that life gives me. I wake up and go to sleep smilling. I have finally put the past to rest. May it rest in peace.

Viva La Vida!

"Viva La Vida" - Frida Kahlo's final painting 1954

I analyze the random pieces of my life and find so many "what ifs?" I dare not ask myself. I keep wondering if I would have been the person that I am had my life taken me in another direction. After careful considerations I com to the conclusion that all I hold dear would have been a blur or something unatainable. The purity of thought I strive to achieve would have been lost along the way. The beauty of knowledge would have been a bore to the alternative version of myself. People say that everything happens for a reason... Is it so? Or is life just a series of random events that you can't just explain (no matter how hard you try to make sense of it)? I've given up on this futile attempt to make sense of everything that happens. Today, a friend of mine told me that "there is no hell... life is hell. And after life, there's more life... more hell!" I must say I sort of agree, but I also believe that there are certain times, certain brakes, in which we can find heaven. I find heaven in many things: in life itself (which i still find beautiful), in waking up, in his (or her) eyes, in a perfect dawn (or perfect sunset), in words, etc. Life is hell... but it's also heaven. Life is harmony. Life is balance. Life is... beautiful (for those who dare live it).

VIVA LA VIDA!

Montauk Point

MONTAUK, N.Y. — The Montauk Point Lighthouse was commissioned by President George Washington and completed in 1796 and may be the most recognized landmark on Long Island.

I was born in Southampton (also) on Long Island and I used to visit Montauk Point often. I can surelly tell you that it's one of my favorite places in the world. The lighthouse oozes mistery and you can't help but wonder about who has stepped there before you and through the ages. The smell of the sea is breath-taking and you have to stop and close your eyes and absorve all of its glory: smells and sounds. When you finally open your eyes again the beauty around you brings a sense of peace. All of this I felt... and I also felt like I belonged. All the doubts and fears that live deep within me and manifest a bit each day just slowly dissolved and disapeared. It was bliss... The closest I've ever been to heaven.

I hope to revisit Montauk Point one day so that I can experience all the sensations I described once more before I die.

The Darkness

I love these guys... they ROCK! \m/

time?

Dammit... as horas no blog estão descontroladas... são 00:17 de 1 de Janeiro de 2009...

The last post should have been the first post of 2009... Whatever... whatever... screw it. Artistic crap is always crap. lol... I'm bitchy and dancing around the point... the point is... I don't remember the point... well... the point is that I'm sick (with the flu) and I'm sleepy... and I'm going to bed. Catch you all on the flipside.

Anyway... HAPPY NEW YEAR!

ROCK ON EVERYONE!

\m/