reaching the top... lying on the floor

He gets out of his car (he's seventeen) and hugs Katie. He walks up to me and says "Nice to meet you Mister Brink." He shakes my hand and I get a good tone from him. I tell him he can change in the bathroom in the guest house, and Katie can show him where the pool is while I get some chips and pop. I go into the kitchen which over looks the pool and see Luke come out of the guest house with a white T-Shirt and red swimming trunks on. He takes of his shirt revealing a tan body that is ripped and amazingly in shape. For the first time in my life I became attracted to a man. He starts stretching his neck and shoulders. He walks over to the lawn chair by the pool and squeezes some tanning lotion onto his hand rubbing it onto his arms, Pecs, and nipples, which were hard from him rubbing himself. He is tall, has blond hair that is short, blue eyes and a young body I had about his age. He goes by Katie and says something to her. He gets on the diving board and Katie says "You need help in there or can you handle it" "I think I can handle it. I'm a big boy now. He jumps off the diving board doing a flip while going down. He gets out of the pool using the ladder facing the kitchen and I can see the silhouette of his cock. Indeed he is a big boy. A very big boy. I take some pops and bowls of chips out to the table by the pool. As he gets close to me I can see his dick even better. It's about 8.5 inches in length and about 4.5 inches in girth. I don't think he knows that he is practically exposing himself to me. I don't mind, but hope he doesn't see me taking quick glances. He says thanks for the pop and chips and I walk away trying not to stutter like a giddy school girl.

After a couple of hours of Katie and Luke swimming, they come inside because it's dark. Katie looks worn out and says she is going to take a shower. I have chicken cooking in the oven for dinner and Luke has already changed into the clothes he was in when he got here. Looking at his crotch I can still see his cock even though he isn't hard. Me and Luke go into the front room and start to watch some TV. I start talking to him. Normally this would be the time to try to break the ice/ get to know if this guy is right for my daughter. This actually turned into "Is he willing to show me his dick and let me suck it?" I start asking him basic questions. "So do you play any sports?" "I play soccer, I run cross country and I play basketball." "That's cool. Where do you live?" "Over by the strip mall downtown." "That's a nice neighborhood" I reply. "Yeah, we've lived there for a while and I like it." "Luke. I'm sorry. I have to ask you a personal question. Are you a virgin?" "Mr. Brink to be completely honest, no I'm not. It was one time with a girl at my house. I was helping her with her homework and one thing lead to another, and we had sex on my bed." "Thank you for being so honest Luke." I walk over to where he is sitting and start talking to him about Katie's mother. I feel he needs to know if he is going to date her. I am hitting on him like no other, and I can tell he senses it. He isn't backing away so he must obviously like it.

I tell him "I haven't had sex in 2 years and quite frankly it's made me a little cranky." He replies with "I can help you with that." He lays me down and starts kissing me on my neck. I grab his tight ass and squeeze it. I can feel him get hard on my leg. I start kissing him too. I put my tongue in his mouth and he sucks on it. I take his shirt off, and start to caress his chest. Every part of him is flawless. He pulls of my shirt and starts sucking on my nipples while I am teasing his. He licks all the way down to my pants which he unbuckles and unzips. He pulls my rock hard cock out of my boxers and says "Impressive" I'm about eight inches. He sticks my dick in his mouth and sucks on it. I enjoy the sensation of my cock rubbing against his teeth and tongue. I start moaning and quiet myself. I remember that Katie is in the shower and start moaning louder. "Oh, Luke suck it. Take the cock down your throat." He deep throats me and I almost cum. He grabs my dick and stops. He says "I don't want you to cum, we have probably twenty minutes." I say hold on and walk over to the night stand. In it are some condoms and a bottle of Astroglide. He says "Exactly what I was thinking." He pulls down his pants and exposes the rest of his body. He gets on his knees and opens his ass hole up for me to see. I lick his asshole and stick my finger up inside of him. He moans as I loosen him up. I squeeze some lube on my hands and moisten his asshole as well as my cock. I put on the condom and go inside him. He moans, not in pain, but in pleasure. I start rocking back and forth loving the friction I am getting from his tight ass around my cock. I start moaning and screaming his name. He starts reaching back and pulling me into him farther. I pull on his hair and smack his tan ass. He says to pull the condom off and fuck him. I do so and it feels amazingly better. I am fucking him hard and fast. When I think I am about to cum, I pull it out and he says "Give it to me." He grabs my cock sticks it in his mouth and starts bobbing up and down it while I am still moaning. He explodes all over my leg, jacking himself off while sucking me. I reach down and taste the sweet cream all over my leg. He keeps blowing me until I squirt a massive load in his mouth. I cum in 7 huge spurts and he swallows all of it. He rolls over and kisses me on my lips and says "I just made up for two years of no ass. How was I?" "Amazing" I reply. His dick is still hard and is rubbing against me as we lay on the carpet kissing and rubbing each other.

We get our clothes on and I take the chicken out of the oven while he sets the table. Katie comes down and sits while we work around her. During dinner me and Luke talk like we have known each other for a while. Katie seems happy we are getting along and doesn't seem to know we just fucked on our living room floor. We send Luke off and watch some TV. Katie asks "So, did you like him" I say "He's alright."

vidas

Depois das aulas costumávamos ir até um café perto do Finsbury Park Odeon. Enquanto outros da nossa idade estavam de nariz enfiado nas colecções de selos ou nos trabalhos de casa, nós passávamos ali muitas horas a discutir... Às vezes conversávamos com os homens que por ali apareciam depois do trabalho. E Millais devia ter estado presente para nos pintar enquanto escutávamos, imóveis como estátuas, fantasias e proezas ininteligíveis acerca de negociatas com condutores de camiões, de chumbo roubado em telhados de igrejas, de combustível subtraído ao departamento de obras da cidade, e ainda de engates, de borrachos, de saias, de marmelada, de conquistas, de chupanços, de cus e mamas, de fodas, por cima, por baixo, de frente, com, sem, de arranhadelas e rasgões, de lambidelas e porcarias, de conas sumarentas, quentes e infinitas, e de outras frias e áridas, mas que valia a pena experimentar, de pichas velhas e moles ou jovens e efervescentes, de se virem cedo demais ou tarde demais, de negas, de quantas vezes por dia, de doenças concomitantes, de pus e tumefacções, de úlceras de arrependimento, de ovários envenenados e testículos vazios. Ouvíamos como e com quem os homens do lixo fornicavam , o que os leiteiros despejavam, quem o montador de estores montava, o que o pedreiro levantava, o que o homem da água inspeccionava, o que o padeiro amassava, o que o homem do gás cheirava, o que o canalizador entubava, a quem o electricista se ligava, o que o enfermeiro injectava, o que o solicitador solicitava, o que o fiscal fiscalizava - e por aí adiante, num conjunto irreal e muito estafado de trocadilhos, alusões, preceitos, frases feitas, crenças e fanfarronadas. Escutava sem compreender...

Ian McEwan, Primeiro amor, útimos ritos

beauty

It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in.

I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday.

sê

Se não puderes ser um pinheiro, no topo de uma colina,
Sê um arbusto no vale mas sê
O melhor arbusto à margem do regato.
Sê um ramo, se não puderes ser uma árvore.
Se não puderes ser uma ramo, sê um pouco de relva
E dá alegria a algum caminho.

Se não puderes ser uma estrada,
Sê apenas uma senda,
Se não puderes ser o Sol, sê uma estrela.
Não é pelo tamanho que terás êxito ou fracasso...
Mas sê o melhor no que quer que sejas.

(Pablo Neruda)

swe(e)at

Love to see your sweat afterwards... your eyes speaking to me of endless nights of unbridled passion... your words delicately placed, each word like dawn breaking through a misty morning that stops me in my tracks, leaving me at a loss for words... whatever it is, my pulse races my heart pounds and I wish you and I alone somewhere against a wall no words spoken, but our tongues tracing the forbidden... our hands grabbing and squeezing as much as we can... both of us sweating... both of us drifting just past a locked door...

listen

I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.

(Ernest Hemingway)

She put the shell against her ear.
Then rising from her knee,
She closed her eyes, and, pressing hard,
She listened for the sea.

I knew she heard the water roar;
She glowed with childish pride.
To hold the ocean in her hand
Was more than she could hide.

She ran across the sand to me;
I listened for a while
Then tucked the shell within her hand
And nodded with a smile.

I thought that she could learn from me,
But who am I to tell?
She brought the ocean home today;
I only brought a shell.

(Darrell T. Hare)

é um lugar...

É um lugar encantado
entre o mundo e a solidão
onde se espreita estrelas
e a vida cabe nas mãos.
Sento-me em frente ao mar
olho para longe do fim
perdem-se barcos na espuma
não sei é dentro de mim...
É uma praia onde a noite
me faz lembrar quem eu sou
sem ouvir o que me pedem
sem importar o que dou...

(Susana Félix)

agora, o silêncio...

Agora que o silêncio é um mar sem ondas,
E que nele posso navegar sem rumo,
Não respondas
Às urgentes perguntas
Que te fiz.
Deixa-me ser feliz
Assim,
Já tão longe de ti como de mim.
Perde-se a vida a desejá-la tanto.
Só soubemos sofrer, enquanto
O nosso amor
Durou.
Mas o tempo passou,
Há calmaria...
Não perturbes a paz que me foi dada...

(Miguel Torga, Súplica)

advice...

- You'll always have a choice... if you ever fell you haven't got it... that's because you've already made it...

- Nothing happens without a reason... the issue is that the reason why it happens may not be the one you imagined, expected or hoped for...

- Follow your own rules...

- Oh... ok...

working late

My office had gotten a little dim, I noticed, and it was the first hint that my workday was almost over. I ran my eyes along the next proofing document, not really reading it, more so sizing it up. I was debating whether to call that one the last for the day, or the one I was about to finish. I thought about going home and decided there wasn't much worth hurrying home for. In the grand scheme of things, my fish would just have to survive an extra half hour without dinner. A comical thought of my goldfish tightening their proverbial belts came to mind.

I chuckled as I finished the Brown vs. Metzger proof and sat back with a smiling sigh. I unfolded the manila envelope and pulled out the next piece of documentation. I noticed right off that this proof involved literary guidelines referring to an acquisition, not to dismissal like all the others I had been working on today. By now, I was very much alone in my tall office building and had no interns to send for the needed support documents. This meant a trip to the library. I decided that I would retrieve the needed volumes, set them on my desk, and leave the whole thing for tomorrow.

Four flights of stairs lead me to the reference section in the upstairs portion of the library. The dimly lit room had the feel of seclusion. During the day, the lights were almost blinding and the bustle of people usually left little or no room for off-hand speculation. More of a get in, get it, get out type of situation than anything else. I walked over to the Acquisition shelves and began running my finger across the leather-bound book spines when I heard a giggle. A sort of mischievous giggle that implied eager titillation. I swung my head around, curious to see who would be trying to out do me in the "working late" department. The balcony was empty, save an abundant array of reference books and legal propaganda. I thought for a moment, and was about to dismiss the giggle as a result of over-working, but it came again. The sound was coming from downstairs in the main portion of the library.

I have always considered myself curious, never enough to get in to trouble, but I had to find the source of the afore-mentioned giggle. I decided to employ some of the covert tactics I had been practicing in my navy seals video game and move to a better position for a little recon. I soon discovered, to my surprise, two young interns, Coleen and Brenda, having what seemed like a very private conversation. I began to feel a little weird about eavesdropping. I was about to get back to work when Brenda, the blonde one, pulled her blouse over her head and tossed it on a near-by globe. Without missing a beat, Coleen unbuttoned her sweater and let it fall to the floor. "Interesting exercise in mimicry", I thought to myself.

Brenda had a broad smile and a fervent look in her green eyes. Her lips parted, loosing another cute giggle as she stepped closer to Coleen. Her hand slipped around Coleen's back and they stood smiling at one another for a moment. With one quick motion, Brenda had Coleen's white, conservative bra off and was swinging it round her outstretched finger. Coleen's supple breasts heaved and almost all at once her nipples hardened. Brenda let fly the bra and it landed on the table next to the blouse-laden globe. The two women began to talk in low, hushed voices and Brenda placed her hand gently atop Coleen's more than perky breast. She rubbed and massaged for a moment, then shoved the dainty brunette onto one of the desks. By this time, I had forgotten about acquisition, about dismissal, I had even forgotten about the pain of the rail digging into my ribs as I craned for a better look. I did notice the throbbing in my crotch, however.

It turned out that Brenda was a sort of dominating type, and she was asserting this fact to Coleen. She unhooked her black-laced bra and gave her own nipples a twist. Coleen, sitting eagerly on the edge of the desk, licked hungrily at Brenda's fingertips and nipples until, finally, Brenda moved her hand to a more supportive position under her tit for Coleen to suck freely her entire areola. A bit of giggling gave way to a moan from Brenda. Without any further a due, Brenda forced Coleen on to her back and began to suck and lick her breasts, all the while squeezing and caressing them.

Brenda got to her knees and placed Coleen's leg over her shoulder. Brenda kissed her inner thigh with very wet lips and slid her tongue along her creamy white skin. There was no mistaking the moment when Brenda's oral muscle pressed firmly against the outside of Coleen's white cotton panties. Nor was there any mistaking the sound of those panties being torn from their wearer. Coleen's knees bent upward as she braced for the first of many orgasmic climaxes she would be subjected to. She became a willing participant in what seemed to be a challenge of sexual endurance. For nearly forty minutes Brenda nibbled her labia and inner thigh area, occasionally returning to the clitoris to drive the orgasms harder and further. She inserted two fingers inside Coleen and began using the "come here" motion to further enhance the experience. More like "come now" if you asked me.

After a particularly loud and moist climax, Brenda stood up. "Why did you stop?" Coleen begged, gasping for air and wriggling from post orgasmic tremors. "Its my turn." replied Brenda in a very matter-of-fact tone. With that, Brenda bent at the waist and crawled over top of the still prone Coleen. They kissed for a bit, stroking and fingering one another's breasts, and Brenda continued her cat-like crawl and positioned herself at Coleen's head, half squatting over her face. "Lick my pussy, now!" demanded Brenda, and Coleen did not disappoint. She immediately lunged her tongue fully into Brenda's juicy twat. Hungrily licking and slurping as she went, Brenda began to moan and writhe in place. Finally she broke into deep, guttural moans of delight and inhibition. I decided to use this noise to cover my own ejaculatory response. If you can't join 'em, beat it, right?

Brenda and Coleen both wore knowing little grins as they dressed one another and hugged and kissed a bit. They decided that this would remain an anonymous session with more to come. I was very happy to hear this and made a side note to myself to check up on my references more often. They finished gathering their things and headed toward the door. Brenda opened the door and turned to Coleen, who in turn, turned to look at the very place where I sat hunched over and very uncomfortable.

"We will do this again as long as it remains a secret, okay Mr. Rodman?" Stunned at the reference to me, I held my breath, hoping that this was a bluff.

"We will take your silence to mean you understand." added Brenda.

"See you tomorrow morning Mr. Rodman."

The two girls began to giggle as they walked out of earshot and the hydraulic arm of the library door pulled it shut. I sat still for a moment longer, thinking they would try to burst back in and confirm I was there. Only after both my legs had fallen asleep did I feel safe enough to leave. I walked across the upper library to the stairwell door, all the while looking back to the door and at my legs, which had just begun their pins-and-needles bit of waking up. I opened the door to the stairwell, and was shocked to see the young women standing there with coy grins on their faces.

"Wanna join tomorrow night, or you just a voyeur?" Brenda asked.

Lets just say I have been hard at work ever since.

diversity

desire

Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.

(Blake, again)

what do u see?

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.

(William Blake)

strange happens

In the New York Herald, November 26, year 1911, there is an account of the hanging of three men. They died for the murder of Sir Edmund William Godfrey; Husband, Father, Pharmacist and all around gentle-man resident of: Greenberry Hill, London. He was murdered by three vagrants whose motive was simple robbery. They were identified as: Joseph Green, Stanley Berry, and Daniel Hill. Green, Berry, Hill. And I Would Like To Think This was Only A Matter Of Chance. As reported in the Reno Gazzette, June of 1983 there is the story of a fire, the water that it took to contain the fire, and a scuba diver named Delmer Darion. Employee of the Peppermill Hotel and Casino, Reno, Nevada. Engaged as a blackjack dealer. Well liked and well regarded as a physical, recreational and sporting sort, Delmer's true passion was for the lake. As reported by the coroner, Delmer died of a heart attack somewhere between the lake and the tree. A most curious side note is the suicide the next day of Craig Hansen. Volunteer firefighter, estranged father of four and a poor tendency to drink. Mr. Hansen was the pilot of the plane that quite accidentally lifted Delmer Darion out of the water. Added to this, Mr. Hansen's tortured life met before with Delmer Darion just two nights previous. The weight of the guilt and the measure of coincidence so large, Craig Hansen took his life. And I Am Trying To Think This Was All Only A Matter Of Chance. The tale told at a 1961 awards dinner for the American Association Of Forensic Science by Dr. Donald Harper, president of the association, began with a simple suicide attempt. Seventeen year old Sydney Barringer. In the city of Los Angeles on March 23, 1958. The coroner ruled that the unsuccessful suicide had suddenly become a successful homicide. To explain: The suicide was confirmed by a note, left in the breast pocket of Sydney Barringer. At the same time young Sydney stood on the ledge of this nine story building, an argument swelled three stories below. The neighbors heard, as they usually did, the arguing of the tenants and it was not uncommon for them to threaten each other with a shotgun, or one of the many handguns kept in the house. And when the shotgun accidentaly went off, Sydney just happend to pass. Added to this, the two tenants turned out to be: Fay and Arthur Barringer. Sydney's mother and Sydney's father. When confronted with the charge, which took some figuring out for the officers on the scene of the crime, Fay Barringer swore that she did not know that the gun was loaded. A young boy who lived in the building, sometimes a visitor and friend to Sydney Barringer said that he had seen, six days prior the loading of the shotgun. It seems that the arguing and the fighting and all of the violence was far too much for Sydney Barringer and knowing his mother and father's tendency to fight, he decided to do something. Sydney Barringer jumps from the ninth floor rooftop. His parents argue three stories below. Her accidental shotgun blast hits Sydney in the stomach as he passes the arguing sixth floor window. He is killed instantly but continues to fall, only to find, three stories below, a safety net installed three days prior for a set of window washers that would have broken his fall and saved his life if not for the hole in his stomach. So Fay Barringer was charged with the murder of her son and Sydney Barringer noted as an accomplice in his own death. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that this is not just "Something That Happened." This cannot be "One of those things...” This, please, cannot be that. And for what I would like to say, I can't. This Was Not Just A Matter Of Chance. Ohhhh. These strange things happen all the time.

Fuck it!

Want to be it? Don't know how to do it? Just tell it like it is. Only you can do it. If it's from the heart, it's a start. If they don't like it, hey, no sweat, never mind.

Fuck it!

Life's too short to waste time on idiots. Bigots who criticize all the time. Everything's relative. Profanity, vulgarity, telling, spelling, subject, reject. Hey lighten up, baby! This is free, meant to be, not to please. So tell them like me:

Fuck it!

You're in love. Happens to the best of us. When it works, it's bliss. If not, it hurts. Can't miss. And worse, it's really hard to say

Fuck it!

Life seems vain. You're in pain. Want to open veins. Get run over by a train. Blow your brains. Don't think I don't know it. I get it. I've been there before. Sometimes life's a bitch. This is how I got out of it. I told myself "They won't get me,

Fuck it!"

Chances are, if your reading this, you got curious and couldn't resist. A word has only the power you give it. So don't hate me for using it. Blame yourselves if you fell for it. Then again,

Fuck it!

You don't like me personally? Maybe? That's it, isn't it? Well that's too bad, baby. Because you know that with a shrug I'll have the excuse I need to repeat myself, one more time, you guessed it:

Fuck it!

love? sex?

I’ll take sex over love anytime, she said. Love colour’s blue, while sex colour’s red. Sex can be fun whilst love is filled with pain. Sex done right, makes you want to do it again. Love stirs the soul and wraps the heart in string. Sex warps the mind, makes us do almost anything. Love gives girls hope, think white dresses, diamond rings. Sex tied up with rope or whilst sitting on a swing. Love makes us happy, makes us cry or makes us sad. Sex corrupts the mind, making good guys turn all bad. Love transcends the ordinary, all luminous and bright. Sex all crude and dirty - at least if it's done right! !

myra breckinridge

A darkly comic book with one of the most intriguing of characters in Myra Breckinridge. She is self-confidant (perhaps overly so), knows how to control and manipulate both men and women to fulfill her wishes, and determined not to let anything stop her. She is ready to change the world to suit her. In other words, a force to be reckoned with.
The novel itself is written as a series of diary entries, written by Myra as events happen. This gives an immediacy to the story and makes the reader feel as though he/she is a part of the action. The twist in the story is definitely a shocking one, published in 1968 with the sexual revolution just underway. An incredible book.

The infirmary scene, the humiliation and rape of Rusty are symbolic gestures in Myra's crusade to destroy the traditional male's image. It begins...

Pouco passava das dez quando Rusty chegou. Usava a camisa axadrezada do costume, a que faltam os dois botões de cima, e sem camisola interior, calças finas de ganga e botas de vaqueiro muito lustrosas. Passeou pelas instalações um olhar de curiosidade. «Nunca aqui tinha estado antes.»

The rest? A delicious description worth reading...

Só depois de ter acabado de se vestir é que falou.«Posso ir embora, agora?»

a nice book!

''Although I am not a lesbian, I do share the normal human response to whatever is attractive physically in either sex. I say normal human response, realizing that our culture has resolutely resisted the idea of bisexuality. We insist that there is only one right way of having sex: man and woman joined together to make baby; all else is wrong. Worse, the neo-Freudian rabbis ... believe that what they call heterosexuality is 'healthy,' that homosexuality is unhealthy, and that bisexuality is a myth despite their master Freud's stated conviction that all human beings are attracted to both sexes.'' - Myra Breckinridge

"Myra Breckinridge", Gore Vidal

untitled

I know you. You're a young guy with clear skin and perfect teeth and the kind of job you're proud to write the alumni association about. You're too young to have fought in any wars and if your parents weren't divorced, then your father was probably never at home. Maybe you really are thinking about some pain-free free-range potluck you went to last weekend or the Earth's depleted O-Zone or the desperate need to stop cruel product testing on animals, but probably not.

Oh, Tyler, rescue me. Deliver me. Deliver me from Swedish furniture. Deliver me from clever art. Deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth. May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

You were looking for a way to change your life. You could not do this on your own. All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you want to look. I fuck like you want to fuck. I am smart. I am capable. And most of all, I am free in all the ways that you are not.

You aren't watching a bunch of guys you don't know beating on each other halfway around the world via satellite with a two minute delay, commercials pitching beer every three minutes and a pause now and then for station identification. After this, watching football on television was like watching pornography when you could be having great sex.

If you could be either God's worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose? We're the middle children of history, we have no special purpose or place, and unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption. Which is worse, hell or nothing? Burn the museums, wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa, this way, at least God will know your name.

the way you see...

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

(Wiliam Blake)

looking at the stars

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

(Oscar Wilde)

Looking at the stars, I am one of them...
Solitary, in a huge nothing,
Lost in the middle of strange people
Escaping time
Leaving and coming back again.
Looking at the stars, I can fell them...
Hot and unique
Alone in the crowd
Escaping from who I am and from the others

A kind of dream
Leaving reality

Living a dream

Being with me!

o amor ao canto do bar vestido de negro

Não te esqueças de esperar por mim! Espera com toda a força.
Espera até a pedra amolecer e o Verão se tornar frio.
Espera até que as flores comecem a sorrir.
Até as crianças deixarem de crescer, a manhã não nascer e a chuva não te molhar.
Espera até que dos livros desapareçam todas as palavras e o mar se desfaça em pó.
Espera por mim até os teus olhos mudarem de cor e os cabelos se enrolarem nos dedos dos pés (...)

(Olga Roriz)

paraíso

hilarious, moving, amazing, fun, sweet, bold, surprising, multiple... a standing applause!

creepy... last moments

He held her close in his strong embrace.
He kissed her neck. He stroked her face.
He lay her down gently on the tomb,
Their bed for the night under the moon.

He told her the secrets he'd kept for years,
Said sorry for ever causing her tears.
She looked deep in his eyes, smiled and forgave,
She didn't want to take resents to the grave.

She kissed him slowly. With her tongue she caressed,
From where his trousers one were and up his chest.
She kissed his neck and nibbled his ear,
Where she whispered all her regrets and fears.

They each had a dagger with hearts engraved,
Along the innocent silver blades.
As they became one they lifted their knives,
In each others arms they took their lives...

scream!

Your breath on my neck
Freezes my thoughts
And heats my blood
Your kisses melt me
I bend to your will
Your lips, now
On my chest
I breathe
Harder
Deeper
Sensations below
My thoughts
Disconnect
I pant
And scratch
You lick
And kiss
And lick
Faster
Harder
Stronger
Until
I
Cant
Hold
Back
My
SCREAM

a travessia

Há um tempo em que é preciso abandonar as roupas usadas ...
Que já têm a forma do nosso corpo ...
E esquecer os nossos caminhos que nos levam sempre
aos mesmos lugares ...

É o tempo da travessia ...
E se não ousarmos fazê-la ...
Teremos ficado ... para sempre ...
À margem de nós mesmos...

(Fernando Pessoa)

Esse tempo não será... cada dia que passa...?

words?

what for...?

para que tú me oigas

Para que tú me oigas
mis palabras
se adelgazan a veces
como las huellas de las gaviotas en las playas.

Collar, cascabel ebrio
para tus manos suaves como las uvas.

Y las miro lejanas mis palabras.
Más que mías son tuyas.
Van trepando en mi viejo dolor como las yedras.

Ellas trepan así por las paredes húmedas.
Eres tú la culpable de este juego sangriento.

Ellas están huyendo de mi guarida oscura.
Todo lo llenas tú, todo lo llenas.

Antes que tú poblaron la soledad que ocupas,
y están acostumbradas más que tú a mi tristeza.

Ahora quiero que digan lo que quiero decirte
para que tú las oigas como quiero que me oigas.

El viento de la angustia aún las suele arrastrar.
Huracanes de sueños aún a veces las tumban

Escuchas otras voces en mi voz dolorida.
Llanto de viejas bocas, sangre de viejas súplicas.
Ámame, compañera. No me abandones. Sígueme.
Sígueme, compañera, en esa ola de angustia.

Pero se van tiñendo con tu amor mis palabras.
Todo lo ocupas tú, todo lo ocupas.

Voy haciendo de todas un collar infinito
para tus blancas manos, suaves como las uvas.

(Pablo Neruda)

moments of happiness

Remember that happiness is a way of travel - not a destination.

(Roy M. Goodman)

there are some things so simple that can make me so happy...

+

+

=

great day... moments of pure and simple happiness!

tik tok tik tok tik tok

para lá do espelho

Agarras-te à hora em que o tempo não passou, mergulhas nas cores que a loucura te emprestou...
E quando te vês para lá do espelho encontras a solidão... Descobres o mundo de quem tem pouco a perder e sobes às estrelas que ontem não podias ver... e perdes o medo de estar só no meio do multidão...

(Jorge Palma)

real? dreams?

«I love my dreams», I said, a winter morn,
To the practical man, and he, in scorn,
Replied: «I am no slave of the Ideal,
But, as all men of sense, I love the Real.»
Poor fool, mistaking all that is and seems!
I love the Real when I love my dreams.

something in between...

4

month - 4

day - 4

hour - 4

4 minutes

sonhos

Alimentam, alienam.
Promovem a fuga.
Criam expectativas, pessoas.
Monstros ou príncipes.
Oferecem liberdade.
Entorpecem.
Metáforas empíricas.
Ilusões.
Predestinados, proféticos, sonhos.
Figuram, desfiguram.
Isolam, assolam.
Cumprem funções.
Que me seja permitido sonhar,
Até que eu acorde...

eu não sei quem te perdeu

Quando veio mostrou-me as mãos vazias,
as mãos como os meus dias
tão leves e banais
Pediu-me que lhe levasse o medo
eu disse-lhe um segredo
não partas nunca mais
E dançou
rodou no chão molhado
num beijo apertado
de barco contra o cais
E uma asa voa a cada beijo teu
Esta noite sou dono do céu
E eu não sei quem te perdeu
Abraçou-me
como se abraça o tempo
a vida num momento
em gestos nunca iguais
E parou
cantou contra o meu peito
num beijo imperfeito
roubado nos umbrais
E partiu
sem me dizer o nome
Levando-me o perfume
de tantas noites mais
E uma asa voa a cada beijo teu
Esta noite sou dono do céu

Eu não sei quem te perdeu

P.A.

sometimes...

I sometimes find it's easy
to be myself.
Some other times,
it's better
to be somebody else...

if I knew...

If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly...

If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and a kiss and call you back for one more...

If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice,
I would tape each word, so I could play them back day after day...

If I knew it would be the last time, I would stop
to say that "I Love You," instead of assuming that you know I do...

So, why tomorrow, why not today?