May 28, 2011

Tempestis.

Calor. A savana africana ressalta nas gotas de suor da minha branca tez aquecendo-me como Sol. Mistura-se da minha àgua com a que jorra de cântaros aos céus e cuja intensidade gradual augmenta, accompanhada ao de leve pelo pouco intenso trovão, também este parecendo vibrar cada vez mais alto. Plúvia bate em chão de pedra soltando-se em mil pedaços e largando ao ar cheiro de terra e de noite enquanto se não esccorre e absorve o pó do ar. A cinza branca, condensação sem abertas, é tapete para ti, irregular mas de onde a Divina do Trópico canta em voz tão profunda quanto a gargantua em Mar revolto de Tempestade; tu és.



Maxwell R. Black
May 28, 2011
03.10 pm

May 21, 2011

One thought.

Às duas da manha, a caminho de casa, ver um sapo na calçada saltando de um relvado regado para um arbusto. São coisas destas que me fazem feliz!! Um sorriso rasgado e uma sensação de equilíbrio. A razão porque acordei de manha.





Maxwell R. Black
May 21, 2011
03.25 am

May 10, 2011

November.





'Close your eyes.'



'I will.'

May 06, 2011

You and I.

Goodnight.

The Lone Traveller.

As I look behind and walk forwards
I see nothing but a blur.
Something that one was as sharp as a knife
and yet it forced itself out of existence.

The sound of steel against steel
and the light ahead, in the darkness of night.
For the sun has long set
and now, only the void of Space and the stars
shine in the sky.

The traffic lights shine against the black velvet
and yet, here, in the far end of the platform
you are as small as a snowflake on a white blanked.

Our goodbye was a simple hug
of ‘see you later’
and now I cannot bare that that was the last time
I’ll ever see your face.

And you-- like so many before
moved on.
Just--moved on--

How is it possible that none of you misses me?
Not a single soul wonders what it is like to be
the one looking, wishing--

How could I be a fool believing
this time it would work out,
that I had found The One
even though I’ve seen there’s no such thing out there?
Shame on me for believing in such nonsense.


I’ll keep the memories but I’ll finely let
everyone go.
I am DONE. I’m done running. I’m done walking.
I’m done wishing and dreaming and thinking.
Done hoping every new you will be different
and that it is time to be thought of.

I’m trying so hard not to care, not to feel
that I end up feeling what is not supposed to be felt.

I want to burn every memory of you.
The bridge, the rose, the scarf, the dance on the top of the world
I try so hard to make them just good memories
of two people that shared a week of pure love.
and then I remember it is no longer real.

So hard to be strong.
Because, in the end you also teached me something;
so much.

Maxwell R. Black
May 6, 2011
01.43 am

May 01, 2011

The little boy who Jumped.

It happen one day
on a land as far as the imagination can bare
a young boy, who had always lived in his small
village by the sea wondered
how wonderful it would be
if it were possible to navigate
the stars as you navigate the sea.

In the wet sand of the shore
he sat at nigh and look up.
And he thought
‘How can it be that no one sees what I can?’
for he had always been told
that the sky up above was just mere
point of light far into space.
Yet, when he looked up he saw not that.

The array of colours was as spread
as the eye could see.
Like fireworks flashes of red and green and blue
rushed across the sky in a twinkling ray
that seemed as strong as fire against the deep canvas
of dark. As close or as far the gravity
of the movements could be felt as a little tingle
all over the body.
You could almost see the belts of ice and primordial rock
float in perpetual harmony in vastness
going from light to light.
You could hear a constant low buzz
in your ears that was Light passing you by.
Ancient light as old as the Earth and the Sun
that, for that impossibly short moment was you.
You could almost touch every corner
of the Celestial Dome, caress with your bare hands
the flames of a Star.
It was as if a magical symphony was there
constantly changing forever.
There to be heard and seen and touched.
For one moment and one alone one note sounded
and forever it was lost, not to be played ever again.

He wondered how was it possible
that no one was aware of this impossibly big thing
they were part of! How can it be
that something so obvious and simply beautiful
could be discarded as trash, forgotten
and simply called Utopian.

How can people go about their lives
thinking of clothes and when to eat
and what will someone think of me if I simply stop
to look when there is this noise
this music playing al time above us?
Deafening sounds and feelings every split second.

He got up so suddenly in the rush of sea
that died on the sand.
looked up and then to the horizon
took a deep breath while closing his eyes.
A gush of wind rustled against him
hair moving with it
and then he jumped.
Just a small jump in hope
that the Laws no gravity for once
stopped in gratitude to let him fly.
but to his surprise the feeling of relief
in his feet was but a moment
and soon he felt the air flowing up as he
fell back to the sand.
He felt disappointed in himself
for not trying hard enough
not jumping high enough, with enough strength.
Not believing enough.
And he gadder his thoughts and strengths
and jumped once more
with all his will power.
And fell again.
And so he tried to jump as high as the sky
over and over and over
thinking that, that time would be the one,
that this time he would be able to go back home
and travel among the intricate fabric of Everything.

The little boy who Believed.
The little boy who Jumped.


Maxwell R. Black
May 1, 2011
05.40 am

One Drop (origin)

There are thoughts that, even if you try to hide them inside a box, on the darker corner of your mind they refuse to stay and come back to haunt you. Because it is they who you are and it is to them that you live. Saiiling the Universe and reaching the furdest of star. There is no way I can live a normal life. Not a chance I'll give up the Planets for anything on this Earth. I am a dreamer, a seer of what Could be. Yes, I am not real and I don't think I'm ready to give that up. I don't think I'll ever be.