Footprints



Footprints in the sand
A few down the beach
Suddenly they dissapear

Carried away?

A feather at the end
Gets caught by the
Wind.

The wind takes the
Feather, blows it around
The world, during a
Storm the feather starts
To burn.

Calm weather brings the
Feather back to life,
Where does it go?

One day the feather
Is a sign, a boy takes
The feather and góes
His way.

The boy leaves his
Footprints in the sand
And walks, away-
Suddenly they dissapear.

For all us Busy People in the World



Around the córner I have a friend
In this great city that has no end.

Yet, the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friend’s face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,

He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell,
And he rang mine.

If, we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

“Tomorrow” I say, “ I will call on Tim”
“Just to show that I’m thinking of him.”
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes.
And the distance between us grows and grows.

Around the córner! Yet-miles away,
“Here is a telegram Mam-“
“Tim died today.”
Around the corner,

.... a vanished friend.

Tão Simples como isso:


" Posso ter defeitos, viver ansioso e ficar irritado algumas vezes, mas não esqueço de que a minha vida é a maior empresa do mundo. E que posso evitar que ela vá à falência. Ser feliz é reconhecer que vale a pena viver, apesar de todos os desafios, incompreenções e periodos de crise. Ser feliz é deixar de ser vítima dos problemas e de se tornar um autor da própria história. É atravessar desertos fora de si mas ser capaz de encontrar um oásis no recôndito da sua alma. É agardecer todas as manhas pelo milagre da vida. Ser feliz é não ter medo dos próprios sentimentos, é saber falar de si mesmo. É ter coregem para ouvir um 'não', é ter segurança para ouvir uma crítica, mesmo que injusta. Pedras no caminho? Guardo todas, um dia vou construir um castelo..."

Fernando Pessoa

Era uma vez...



Uma gaivota vinda de Andrômeda

À procura de algo incompreensível

Correndo atrás de possiveis respostas

Apanhando o vento forte do norte



Na selva da cidade

Encontrou uma raposa

Com respostas e uma satisfação

A gaivota aprendeu a andar



Gostando do seu novo ambiente

Adoptando a linguagem e os costumes

A selva da cidade transformou-se

No novo céu admirável



O desafio era grande

O gozo da vida também

Tornou-se numa dor

Originada entre



A oposição entre

O Amar

E

O bruto Querer



O desejo igual ao objectivo

A curiosidade é o motor

Cativo entre a simplicidade de viver

E o paradoxo da vida



O amor-paixão perdida

Na cristalização da claridade

Do ser

Que é a vida

LONDON CHATS

-The ghost is sending her love to the insanity of your brain! May all the bullshit of these days fly away with the wind and is going gone gone with butterflies and bats...for ever and ever...se acridatares....sempre para sempre ate ao fim...love ya my big bad bat

"ok...hum...its gone but hang on it came back...its what happens when its all too much and all that you have around is really nothing,,have u heard of 7 batten street..its the next thriller for next summer...its kinda like "what you didnt DO this Summer!!!"haha
Nothing is making much sense now but thats becausse how my life is at he moment!!!so stop that now you know i told you it destroys all the little bugs inside u that need to work..oh well u know what i mean..!!!!!!"

-the light is always shining bright...your way
the light is always shining bright...wherever you are
you way...is bright & shiny
wherever you are the light will always shine
bright & light

"lets hope its a nightmare someone forgot to call it a dream..
lets hope that somenone will remeber to turn on the light and leave the window open..
to breath instead of holding on..
to make every tear a smile in return..
to make it all worthwhile!!"

Under the bridge

sometimes we wake up
not knowing where we are


sometimes we wake up
not knowing where we were
the night before

sometimes we wake up
not knowing how we got there

sometimes we wake up
we know exactly where we are
where we were the night before
and how we got there

sometimes we wish we didnt have to
wake up
sometimes we wake up under a bridge

a bridge sometimes becomes a synonym
for a night that was lived to the fullest
where everything happened and even a little more
where exhaustion turned to exhaliation

sometimes-at some place-time stands still...

Talvez um dia percebes a felicidade tu me deste de volta.
Talvez um dia percebes quem és.
talvez um dia encontrares aquela pessoa para ti.
Talvez um dia fazes uma viagem por volta do mundo.
Talvez um dia serás o rei de cinema.
talvez.
talvez.
Mas talvez vives o momento e talvez assim a felicidade nunca te deixar sozinho.
talvez.
Com certeza e nunca talvez eu quero estar lá quando os "talvezes" se realizam e te vejo com este sorriso divino que tu bem mereces.

“Touched by an Angel”
by a Vagabond


Out of the dark there came an angel....

There, there was I, depressed, confused and tired of trying. The theatre play did not satisfy me, my love Miro was gone, and where was I?
Somewhere lost. I had given up differentiating between reality and fiction, my dreams were chasing their way- blending into reality-only to my eyes visible. I was living my nightmares, always ready for the worst, which transformed my life into an ‘egotistical-one-woman-show’…..I was feeling lonely and depressed, the world became an evil place for me.

One night, having a drink with some colleagues from the play, I was thinking: What for? Why? Can it really be that there is more negative energy than positive?
Walking to the bus station desperately wanting to get home I heard a little voice asking this awkward question into the darkening night:

“So, how many hours do you use your feet?”

What? What was that? Was there truly somebody asking me this question? Fifteen people were waiting at the station for the bus to come. The typical northern drizzle had started to wet the streets, when I turned around and saw this little, clumsy, Arabic Lady sitting on the bench with some plastic bags on the side of her. From her make-up and clothes I would say she was fairly rich, but then one look at her feet changed the whole picture- she wore these cheap sandals, which totally did not fit her outfit, her feet looked awful. I turned around and asked if she meant me.

“Sure I mean you! How many hours do you use your feet on a regular day?”

A little puzzled by what she actually wanted to know. I answered:

“Well, if I’m doing sports I may be using them four hours in a row.”

She smiled at me, in fact she always had a smile on her face, a really positive, obscure smile- gained by a lot of experience.
The mysterious Lady then said:

“Four hours…that is nothing. I use my feet at least ten hours without sitting down, because I have to run from here to there, to the washing center, to the fruit man, to the train station and so on and on…”

I shook my head, there was I feeling so miserable and sorry for myself, because of this freaking bad world, and a little, old Arabic grandmother was sitting at the bus station, where various people were hanging around and asked me these obscure questions.
The bus came and we both got inside, but sat down pretty far away from each other. Then “Hohelufbruecke”, my stop came, and I got off the bus. I walked down the road, passed MacDonald’s and when I looked back there was the little, old Lady again, so I decided to wait for her to give her some company. When she got to me she showed me her feet, which indeed looked really terrible with blisters all over. We talked about that she should put her feet in warm water in order to give them some rest. And again, she smiled at me and said:

“You know, I am very happy, because tomorrow I can sleep in. I can sleep until 9 o’clock.”

9 o’clock…went through my head that is not very long for me. Then she told me the street she had to go to and I wondered, knowing that in order to get to the neighbourhood she wanted to get to, she would have to cross the street. The street was in the exact opposite direction of where we were walking to. But no, she was still walking by my side telling me about her life back in Persia, where she never had to walk that much, she even had maids and did not have a clue how to raise the kids. She then started to work as a nurse, her feet, back then, were looking beautifully. There came my house and she wished me a very good night and on continuing walking in the wrong direction, carrying all her plastic bags, looking very awkwardly, her figure became a shadow and disappeared into the dark of the night.
I opened the door to my house and was walking up the stairs, still very confused about what just happened. I got into our apartment, went on the balcony, looked at the sky and talked to God:

“I know God, life is not at all so difficult, still you had to send this strange angel to me, to give me a sign of hope- thank you so much. I needed it.”

There was I, touched by an angel…..