Lisboa, Minha Amada

Dei uma grande volta

E estou de volta a ti

Lisboa,

Minha amada,

Mulher difícil tu és

Mas eu te amo como és

Aceitas-me de volta?

.

Abres-me a porta

Para o teu coração

Minha amada

Acolhes o cansado pássaro na tua mão

Por favor

Não me encarceres outra vez

Nessa tua gaiola dourada

Em que estive prisioneiro

Durante dias, meses e anos…

Sofri e sofri muito

De solidão,

Discriminação,

Um dia me davas atenção

Noutro soltavas uma gargalhada macabra

Na sombra do Outro vivia

Nessa gaiola tua

Sim deste-me comida, casa e sustento

Mas a Luz não chegava aí dentro…

.

Por isso quando vi a gaiola aberta

Escapei

Seguindo o canto de um cuco viajante

Atravessei mares, rios e vales

E cheguei a conhecer as tuas Irmãs

Falei sobre ti

Minha amada

És amada e odiada ao mesmo tempo

Pelo sofrimento que causaste

 Ao mundo

.

Sou pássaro Livre agora

Como as nuvens dançantes no Céu

Por favor

Não me encarceres

Nessa tua gaiola dourada

Minha amada não,

Respeita-me como sou

E eu conto-te as minhas viagens

Te cantarei o que eu sinto por ti

Mas quando for tempo

Voarei para os quatro cantos do Mundo

.

Aceita a minha Liberdade

Minha amada,

E juntos podemos ser felizes

Até essa próxima jornada

.

Esta é a vida de viajante

Escolhi e não escolhi

Desculpa

Mas eu aceito o que me foi dado

E tento fazer o melhor dele

Perdoa-me por não estar sempre para Ti

Mas no meu coração você está

Aí nesse altar secreto

Jaz o meu Amor por si

.

Lisboa

Cidade amada

Vestida de cores

Bronzeada do Sol

És caprichosa como a Lua

Teimosa como a maré

Vais e vens,

Em tristeza de fadista

Às vezes

És tímida,

Escondida por detrás das tuas

Irmãs europeias

Mas não tens nada a menos que elas

Só a mais…

Mas não fiques demasiada convencida

Amor

Tens de ter cuidado com essa tua atitude de superior

Sabes que ainda magoas as tuas Irmãs

Do Brasil, Angola, Moçambique, Cabo-Verde, Guiné, Guiné-Bissau,  São Tomé e Príncipe…

Por favor não continues com este

Ciclo vicioso

Colonial

Desconstrói a tua história

Memórias do passado

Sim tu e eu estamos manchados de sangue

Sofrimento que vamos levando

Vidas e vidas

Nos nossos barcos imundos

Até atravessar o tortuoso Oceano

Sim talvez devagarinho

Chegaremos lá,

Minha amada

Com Amor e Compaixão

Chegaremos lá sim

Eu acredito em si

Na sua humilde força

Um dia lá em cima estaremos

No altar do Mundo

Brilhantes como uma constelação

Tu e eu

Lado a lado

.

Com amor,

O teu pássaro viajante

When you meet another bird

When you meet another bird

You learn to let go

Wow I’m not that special

Just a wondering bird among many

Perched in this world-tree

~

When you meet another bird

You learn to let go

Your worries, attachments and cravings

Fall down like cold snow

As it touches the witnessing Earth

It becomes the cool stream

That flows and flows and flows

Oh this stream has flowed through

Rivers and mountains and forests

And so it shall continue to be

~

When you meet another bird

You learn to be Free

Dharma and Love are not mutually exclusive

Love is Freedom

Not the egocentric selfish cage

That imprisons the soul

So be Free little bird

Fly and go see the world

Experience it and suffer from it

To finally internalize Buddha’s Noble Truths

~

Oh Lord Buddha

When will I stop craving?

The bird sings

You have a long way to go

Perhaps

When you flow through

Enough lives and experiences and sufferings

You will let go

Let go of all

And dwell in Nothingness

Life and Death of a New Chinese Bourgeois

blue bird and chinese plum blossom
Blue Bird and Chinese Plum Blossom (Thanks to http://www.inkdancechinesepaintings.com/plum-blossom/painting-2485024.html)

New chinese bourgeois

Oh you studied in America?

“The Land of the Free,

Home of the Brave”

Are you brave enough

To stab the Oppressor in you?

Are you Free enough

To realize that you are caged

In a wheel circling endlessly?

.

What?

You are going to Portugal

To help your mother?

Then here are some words for you

New Chinese bourgeois

.

Since you’re in Portugal

I’ll speak Portuguese to you:

.

Estimada,

Nova burguesia Chinesa

Porquê esta frieza

No teu coração

Para os trabalhadores

Que outrora foram

Teus irmãos

Porquê esta fraqueza

Contra a perda da tua riqueza

Que ganhaste
Mentindo e manipulando

As tuas irmãs?

Porquê?

Porquê?

Porquê esta dureza

Nas tuas ordens

Para com os teus subordinados

Objetos

Considerados por ti

Dominados

Eles são, por ti

Porque não abres

O teu coração

Para o sofrimento que infliges

Com a tua existência

Olha, estás cego?

À tua frente estão

Os teus irmãos e irmãs

Quase mortos de Espírito

Forçados a uma rotina desuhumana:

Acordar,

Trabalhar,

Comer,

Trabalhar,

Comer,

Dormir,

Acordar,

Presos,

Continuando esta routina

Sempre trazendo dinheiro para os teus bolsos

Que prisão de existência é esta

Em que tu fazes de gerente?

Porquê?

Porque é que continuas a ignorar os sinais

Da tua Morte iminente

Cuidado, eles vêm aí para te buscar

.

Morre esfaqueado

Oppressor!

E Acorda finalmente

Dos teus sonhos nublados e pesadelos

Morre, Oppressor, Morre

E Levanta-te de novo

Como Homen Livre

Luta lado a lado

Com os teus irmãos e irmãs

Sofrer juntos

E morrer juntos

Contra este Sistema

Vicioso

Caprichoso

Que nos imprisona

A todos

Não ouves os sons do tambor

Do teu coração?

É o som do Amor divino

Da Compaixão

Os três perdidos

Liberdade,

Igualdade,

E Fraternidade

Já voltaram

Não vês?

Eles já voltaram

Deixa tudo para trás

Juntos marchamos

Juntos marchamos

Para uma nova Revolução!

Death of a writer

Oh writer

Why don’t you die?

Your imperfect words

Symbolizing sounds symbolizing experiences

Can’t touch me

Plain characters

Boring dialogue

Used up plots

Silenced voice

Dull settings

Makes me want to vomit

All the words you are trying to force-feed me

Why don’t you die?

You would save me lots of time

Lots of trouble

Lots of pens

Lots of ink

Lots of hard generated electricity

Running in your energy sucking computer

Stop wasting your time

And Mine

Why don’t you die?

Your mountain high ego

Annoys me

I can’t take it anymore

I’m going to blast you into little little pieces

The Earth is going to shake

Are you ready to die?

Die!

Oh stupid writer

Nothing you write is yours

No, your writing is NOT yours

The topics you write about

Are not yours but gifts from the people you’ve met

Places you’ve been

Things you’ve read or seen

Your imagination which is not yours only mixes them up

Creating mutant like monsters

Nothing is yours, writer

Your hands that write are not yours

Your body that sits crouched writing is not yours

Your mind that thinks and thinks is not yours

Your consciousness that is conscious of itself is not yours

Die!

You are the product and its creator

You are the world stupid

You are your parents and grandparents who brought you up

You are the Buddhas and the Bodhisattvas who taught you the Dharma

You are the Earth in which you were born, the mountains, the rivers, the trees and all its sentient beings

You are all your loved ones

You are all those who have made you suffer

You are the stream of manifestations of divine Love

Was I able to kill you?

No? What?

Die writer, die!

Truth is that only by dying you become Alive

So fear not and Die

Let go of your shitty writing

And Die for your own personal Salvation

Just let yourself go and d..

Blossoming

‘Even if the cherry flowers bloom,

Ours is a world of suffering.’ — Issa, Japanese poet (1763-1827)

 

I dedicate this poem to the cuckoo that sings with a sweet voice:

 

Lonely tree

Blossoming flowers

Kissing bees

Butterflies flirting

In Circles

Cleansing rains

Clearing clouds

Shy Sun shyly shines

 

So many flowers blossoming into the world

Spreading Love

Beauty of Creation

Selflessly serving

For the Divine One

 

A voice echoes with the wind

Dear closed flower buds

Blossom, blossom and blossom

Blossom into the world

It is more painful to stay caged in

Than reaching for true Freedom

Let go of your burdens

Pain, abuse and suffering

Let go of your ‘self’

Desires, dreams and attachments

Allow your fragile petals

To open up one by one

Until all is surrendered…

 

It’s not an easy task

Not at all

Of letting go

So take your time

One day you’ll shine

Just remember

You are not alone

There are so many flowers in the tree

There are so many trees in the forest

And so many forests on Earth

It might be that all are slowly

Disappearing…

So much suffering in this process of change

Hence listen, listen to the cuckoo’s calling

Purify your inner world

And blossom into the outer one

The whole universe shall rejoice

From rivers, mountains and forests

To birds, bees, butterflies

All sentient and non-sentient beings

Remember you are not alone

Listen to the sweet cuckoo’s calling

Blossom, blossom and blossom!

 

 

How Can I Not?

Time has passed by

Like a gust of wind

A bird gets ready to fly

Oh so hard it is

To say goodbye

 

Oh attachments

To home and not-home

 

Is it still home?

Where the heart still longs

For something

Timeless

Long gone

Truth?

 

It might be

That this precious Truth

Is right here

Next to me

How painful it is

That I can’t see?

 

Some people

Call it Love

But I can’t feel it

Perhaps a little sprout

Deeply planted

In layers and layers

Of illusive existence

 

How can I accept an illusory role

Prescribed by a system

Engineered to keep me

A passive victim

That blindly and silently

Follows

What others are expecting

‘Me’

To do?

 

What is ‘Me’?

I am my mother

My father

Brothers and sisters

Ancestors

Creators of my kinship

I am more than my blood

I am the tree that I used to love

I am the river that I used to swim

I am the clouds that I used to dream

I am earth mother desperately crying for help

I am heavenly father who gave me a soul and guides me with Love

 

How can I accept

Seeing ‘me’

All my loved ones

Trapped in illusion

Delusion

Karmic sea of Suffering?

 

How can I not

Attempt to find a way out?

 

How can I not?

Build a boat

Search and wander in the sea

To finally find a ferryman

Who agrees

To take me to the other shore

 

Oh that sweet home

Where the heart longs no more

Where home is here

There

Everywhere

Nowhere

At the same time

 

If I do reach my destination

You will see

That you are ‘me’

Simply Free

 

You will realize

That indeed

You have agency

To build your own boat

Search and wander

Meet your ferryman

And see ‘me’

On the other shore

 

True Home this is

Where the heart longs no more.