domingo, 9 de março de 2025

Accomodation

 The rubble of life provokes a desolation
A house that has subsided off it's foundations
leaving behind piles of wood and wires frayed 
Uncaring neighborhood eyes and heads  turn away

slushing out onto the street
Slumming out onto the street
Apathy is a filthy beat
echoing pretend relief 

Left to encroach and die
to perturb the passerby
deaf blind neighbors at ease
senseless and easily pleased

the rubble of life makes one stall
many let their woman clean it all
as she shovels it out with broken tools
you continue to deposit barrel fulls

It becomes too much for her
Sweat on her brow tumbles into her eyes they flutter
the rocks wood and plaster reach all the way into the gutter
The rubble of life dusty and heavy

They wanted to beautify this old wreck
get some outta towners for weekend kicks
leisure illusion and party tricks
It's all crumbled now

The humble ones arise from the cracks
Come after dark to pick among the scraps
for odds and ends that might add or mend
their meager existences

All is well erase thought
all is a bowl of dirty water
unable to see ones reflection
No rationale or predilection

Tonnes of rubble
on our shoulders
On faces like stubble
Weighing us down over years

Art of pretending not to care
we swing by the local supermarket
Hauling rock dust in our hair
Almost buckling at the knees

the strain on our faces
Our unpaid lives unpaid fees
Our dirty heavy debt
Ou illusory legacy

sábado, 8 de março de 2025

Quem não quer sofrer nasce morto

 Olhos palidos pedindo cegueira
Sofrimento é uma sentença
O jogo que durar eternidades
Um caminho longo

Prazer em raro intervalos
Faíscas na exisência
Quem não quer sofrer
vai sofrer em dobro

Labios e ouvidos
Um deslizamento
Um esforço em vão
Emoções desperdiçadas

Aquele dor horrivel
Um pé no vulcão
realidade uma fera
Quem vai querer?

Quem não quer sofrer
Busca justiça a toa
O mundo não ouça
Velha abandonada louça

Forte alivio desde
o desejo passou
Alma medrosa sobrou
A vida é perigo


arriscada 
calamitosa
Suavamente brutal

sexta-feira, 7 de março de 2025

Pack a torch

 

Russel a man in his late thirties, got lost in the rockies for several weeks.
That was many years go. People say they see his clothes hung up in trees during the summer months and cabins in the region get midnight visits by something trying to enter.
These were attributed to Russel.
As the same hotspots and clues were always found, as if the man was still alive trying to make contact with humanity again.
Alas his body itself was never seen. And people never describe more than a shadow.
And strangely no tracks through the snow at the altitudes where snow rarely melts. In 1991 there was a seach party two weeks after his disappearance, this story is about that experience.

Gareth, Aaron and Jane firends of Russel, left Toronto morning August 23rd 1991.
Chatting as they drove in Gareth's old kombi van on that early morning. An inviting blue dawn raised the mood.
"No early snows to speak of, and no news of any avalanches either" Aaron stated pushing optimism.
"Yeah he could easily still be alive out there somewhere" Gareth said.
"That's the hope. He was due back a week ago however and he is not exactly new to the great outdoors."
A few hours of hush as worst case scenarios sunk into their imaginations. Jane the great injector of harsh truths, Aaron the dresser and appeaser and Gareth usually optimistic by nature.

They arrived at the carpark where Russel's car had been towed from.
A small shelter maybe 30 meters in size with a front door and a few thick windows.
"Park ranger's not coming in today apparently." Came a voice from beside the cabin.
It was a council worker who had been digging a small rainwater trench running outside the lower half of the carpark. He was already leaving on his motorbike though.
"No problem I already have a note here we can leave in the cabin, to let him know we are here."
Gareth replied.
"Ok Make sure you guys got a torch nights are dark out and there's something strange in them there woods."

There was some light snow on the ground which was not abnormal for late August. But no close to indicating any danger for campers in terms of the cold, and it was already showing signs of melting.
Aaron gathered a little in his drink bottle crouching briefly. They were on the track.
"How far up the track was he camped? Or how far did he usually camp up there?" Jane asked Gareth who knew Russel better.
"Years ago we once made it a few kilometers past the lake at the end. It's atleast seventeen kilometers from here".

"Not supposed to go beyond the lake. Atleast thats what the Alonquian tribes say."
"Oh yer because bigfoot gonna eat them right Aaron?"
Aaron just smirked.
Gareth said "The wilderness is really different at night, it can play tricks on your mind, we usually always camped in July"
"Russel must have thought himself immortal coming out here by himself in mid august!" Jane said
"Although the real danger are just bears right?" she added
"I don't know the stags get pretty big here" Gareth retorted

They approached some bare shrubs with a piece of orange material flying in the wind just a few meters from the track.
"Must be from his hunting vest" Jane observed.
"It could be from anyone" Aaron said quickly.
Jane packed it away in her jacket pocket.

They walked over foothills almost prairie like flat lands foothills and more foothills.
Then like a great gate rising up composed of thick tall douglas fir and blue spruce.
"Finally we get to the forest" Aaron said.
As they breached the fringe something pale sat watching them.
"Look it's a lizard." Gareth said.
Aaron said "But it's so pale, I've never seen anything like it before."
"It's probably albino" Jane downplaying their fascinations.

Kilometers in they set up their camp in small clearing so they could potentially get some moonlight, if one needed to relieve oneself post midnight.
A small fire and some comfortable moss to carpet the underlayer of the tents.
Yet the night was uncomfortable. There was a barely audible moan that almost went from animal to human and back, the best way to describe it, is the noise of a hungry stomach and a faint dog growl.
Loud enough to perturb them all. silent enough for them to nod off eventually.

The next day progress was slow, another strip of Russel's hunting vest was found on the side of the track and the forest track despite protecting them from the glaring sun, seemed to fork and give false paths to nowhere, in which case they's have to double back.
Jane optimistic and the boys compeltely sombre. That is until they reached the lake.
Emerging from the forest like cheerful children. Jane thought so.

They fished and talked and felt at ease. The noise inside the forest wasn't heard here, it was in exact contrast to the shady confusion of the forest. The lake was pristine a magical sight that seemed wasted as so few would actually pass by to see it in real life.
With a campfire and fresh food they slept better than they could at home. Optimism returned.
The next day they awoke to a cold morning. A light snow and low fog.
Something had changed the weather.

They made their way passed the lake and into the low mountains. The day grew grey and exhausting. They hiked up the inclines often using their hands to pull themselves over rocks or to balance themselves. Their high spirits were now being tested.
They got to a flat space on the side of a low mountain by dusk and decided to camp once again.
"Fuck it" Gareth cried out.
"What's wrong" Jane inquired.
"It's back"
"what's back?"
"Jane he's talking about the noise." Aaron said
They went through the motions of unpacking with no real expression, disappointed and a little scared too.
The noise came and went sharpening on a forceful breeze that would blow so hard against their tents that the lining would cave inward in a sinister way, making the material look like a face. 
It was too much for Jane and she went to sleep in Gareth's tent. Aaron was there a few minutes later obviously hearing the new sleeping arrangement, and joining out of fear.

It seemed darker than the forest. The noise stopped around 3.30am. They started to hear foot steps not far off. Gareth opened the tent and they all piled out, they hadn't been sleeping.
They shone their torches in the direction of the noise and there it was. On the edge of their little camp site.
A human man hairless and pale, something that reminded Gareth of the lizard. Leaning forward as they witnessed it grinning at them.
"It's Russel" Jane said as if ignoring it sensing them.
"No it's not" Gareth said under his breath. Shock paralyzed them. The outlandishness of the visitor told them that there was no such thing as safety, that the supernatural existed and could manifest whenever the time was right.
They shivered.
The creature leaned in further sniffing with a non existant nose and a dog skullish grin.
It took two steps back and vanished into the dark.
"It was a ghost" Gareth said.
Jane insisted "It was russel somehow"
Aaron looked at them both as if a child.
" I can prove it was a ghost" Gareth said.
Walking over and shining his lantern on the patch of snow the thing was standing on.
"There's nothing there." 
Needless to say noone slept that night.

In the morning after a few attempts at sleep they set off for home.
Pretty shaken and very tired.
They had almost reached the lake that idyllic place that seemed so safe and welcoming.
"I know it was Russel, I saw the line on his arm. That's what made me say it."
"Why didn't you tell us last night then?" Gareth inquired aggressively.
"It's true Gareth I saw it too, the shock of his appearance stopped me from being able to identify it." Aaron conceded
Gareth looked down "Next piece of bad news you guys got, keep it to yourself"
"Is it bad news?" jane asked
"Yes, that thing is something from legend. He could not survive out there in the cold naked like that. Whatever that thing is, I'm pretty sure it's not something he would have wanted to have become."

"But its still August maybe he went mad and became emaciated" Aaron said
"Summer hasn't touched this place Aaron."Replied Gareth.
They hung their heads and once again unpacked their things to make camp.
As darkness took over the sky the three dreamed of the creature in the dark, ushering them away from their camp. Whispering in a foreign language. It wasn't the skin or nakedness that had dug its way into their minds, it way it had peered into them. The symmetrical grin which exhibited teeth that tapered, whose sharp ends were hidden as if by courtesy. A knowing in the dark eyes. A certainty and yet a sinister playfulness.

They dreamed of the pale creature observing their tents from the outside. Gareth was the first to wake instinctively waking the other two.

" I dreamed there was a racoon playing with that creature not twenty meters from our tent down there by lakeside."
They shone their torches and to their terror there was something moving down by the lake.
A Racoon turning over rocks looking for something. 
Across the lake there was a figure illuminated by slight glow, it was slowly waving. They all knew it was the creature. Standing transfixed and begging for the thing to disappear.
The first subtle sign of light was coming into the sky. As the sky brightened softly the figure vanished.

The three of them clambered to pack up the camp. Panicking and dropping things in rush.
They skipped breakfast and kept a quick pace until they got back to the parking lot.
The forest was calm no sign of any wildlife though. Also thye didn't spot any more pieces of clothing as they hurried along.
It was  dusk again as they reached the kombi, this time though they would be able to drive home and spend their night sleeping in beds.

They referred to their experience as true darkness. It had marked them deeply, first week back they spent a few nights sleeping in the same room together just to rehabilitate themselves from the shock. The story that would later be told was they had witnessed a shared hallucination. In the realm of humans most dangers are predictable. In the natural world we tell ourselves it's no different. However some might believe there was something odd out there in them there woods.



 

A punch in the face on tuesday

 He would bait people into fighting with him. A lot of bullies were just like that. Handing over the gloves, his teenage henchman talking the potential victim into participating in the fight.
"You'll do alright bro, You underestimate your strength."
When they got in for the whisper the candidate was trapped and processed like a piece of meat.
whispering "You don't want to look like a fucking whuss infront of everyone here, otherwise your going to get your ass kicked anyway when people hear you backed out."
Red face and red gloves and ready to get a beating.

I didn't try to dissuade them. I'd like to excuse myself from all blame, but I'll leave the pretending to the professionals.
The primitive part of me wanted to see them recieve the pounding of their lives, and fall on their back.
Look absolutely ridiculous. Only to have some of their friends convince them they were brave. It wasn't because I hated them intrinsically, some of them were good friends. But the lie they told that I could already see was bogus brewed deep anger. The lie that you need to prove yourself the same way to be a man.
A completely overt weakness in conviction, an insistance on error.


I'd let them all fight it out forever. Pride what fallacy.
Who needs pride in the modern world.
It doesn't reflect on your ability to adapt, to survive or succeed, its just shit fuel for talk and bragging when you've drunken more than you should have. So boil away and shove your mediocre sense of honor where the sun don't shine.

On the day out there, I'm going to say it was tuesday. There was Brad, Melon, Orlano, Stock, big Jenkins, Boston and Aussie and a group of future losers guaranteed.
Boston the devlish popular sports star of the college, feared by quite a few, yet loved by many.
big provocative lips, smirk and Jibe.
Unfortunately placed against Pops or big Jenkins, who was only sixteen years old but already had a few grey hairs poking out, hence the name. more feared than loved. Impressive beast indeed.

But arrogance got the better of Boston as it always did, as it got the better of all of us. Learning to overlook our weaknesses like so many stacks on stacks of generations. Falling into those traps that would cause us literally months of pain and humiliation and for an unlucky few, suicide.

Gloves on and faces remained cordial, then weird fighting eyes faced off and the first blow came from jenkins, knocking boston slightly off balance.
Then Boston replied with a flurry of blows landing 2 or 3 out of about 14, it did look impressive, but had no effect on Pops who'd taken beatings from his brothers and father that would put most of us in hospital, yet wouldn't exceed routine for him.
So a well planted foot and uppercut came whizzing up from under Boston's chest "Whack."
Big Jenkins used his mouth to make the sound efffect he literally sounded the " whizzz." before the physical crack sounded astonishing us.
Then he bellowed out cheery laughter.

And again Boston was on him landing left and right, excellent aim, but subpar in power. After pops took a few to the face he changed stance.
One right cross sent Boston reeling almost falling off the green grassy mounds we were using so the teachers wouldn't see.
He took the gloves off and said, "I landed more blows so I would have won." But none of us were having it. "Giving up already" Even the weakest of us who were no match the for the wild and renown boston were ridiculing him.
I looked at the sky this must be what hell is like. Why would anyone need heaven?
Pride, glory and honor values that seem neo christian back here in the eighties and nineties. Drove these idiots to tear themselves apart to prove themselves.

Don't let poeple gode you into fighting their way.
If you get hooked into someone elses game you might as well just offer your face for the beating of your life. The games went on for months until the school itself had to take drastic action to put a stop to.
In that time I did witness a sacred few who shined.
Who surprised us all by putting down a bigger and more vicious boy. It certainly made the whole affair more entertaining if that were possible.
What became most obvious and most unbelieveable was the capacity young 15 and 16 year olds had for withholding years of pure anger and rage then releasing it. Incredibly potent tangible expression. that on occasion would scare the living shit out of the many spectators.

Pride is a lie, yet violence comes with its' own abstract heavy truth.


Contrasts on the trailing vine

 Small town village about 70 kilometers from our home closer to town.
"Let's get of here now, there'll be a storm and no doubt we'll get stranded." I said.
"You are probably right, clouds looking dark out there." My wife responded.

Ten kilometers down the road a tyre exploded on the highway, "fuuuuck"
swerving to keep the car on the road, then bringing it slowly to a halt.
"Hey look staglands petrol station and mechanics is open, t's only about 600 meters."
Ok lets walk up see if they can tow it in, it'll be too difficult to push"

There were two guys working at the mechanic, Locky and Steve.
"Thanks for helping us guys."
Neither of them responded. My wife looked at me. "Not very friendly are they?"
they brought the car in and started working on repairing the damage to the rims.
Behind the roadside shop was a small boutique village with shops full of kitsch and ornaments.
A small restaurant and cafe. Big fruit trees surrounded, local farmers teenage children mobbed about curious and teasing.

We spent an hour walking around and sampling some of the local food.
The owners were from India and really let the Hindu themes stand out.
Back at the car Steve spoke up "They bring their stupid culture here to this country."
Locky didn't make a peep. 
Both in their early thirties, both had worked there for their entire adult lives.
Locky long dark here and yellowish white skin, Steve extremely thin short curly grey brown hair.


Their boss came in. "Steve stop ranting about the foreigners again"
My wife tapped me on the shoulder "This is racist Steve"
A couple we had run into earlier had commented on the mechanic shop boys.

"So how long is it going to be, do you think?"
"Oh not long, Put a new tyre and you guys can be on your way."
Locky gave my wife a wink. "I stared at him. He just pretended I wasn't there. 
A skill I used to have when I was younger and somehow lost.
We got into the car "It was four hundred and fifty dollars."
"Could have been more expensive"
Thunder clapped and it started raining heavily.

The road almost became invisible and the wind pushed and pulled the car.
Something crashed from behind us. 
A large tree crossing the road directly and cutting off traffic both way. Also taking down powerlines.
"Thank god" she muttered.
"Hey thats a bad thing, now they are all cut off completely."
"Yeah but we actually got out of there before."
"Typical summer disasters, right?"

The rain subsided enough to see the road again the two thick layers of grey sky met on the horizon one on top of the other. The darker higher and expanding.
"What a contrast the weather is, sunny and idyllic one minute, stormy and hurricane like the next."
My wife looked into my eyes. "Just the way you like it, isn't it"
"Living a life without contrasts would be quite boring I guess" I admitted.
 


quinta-feira, 6 de março de 2025

The lord of mercy

 The lord stands twenty meters tall in this city
He recognizes our hearts
destroys the corrupt among us
thundering blows

his smile brings the sky
The internal justice
confusion brutality

life and growth


he treads across the land
the sample valley
your sample existance
pleading fairness, fairness

the land is his
the sky swirls in applause
A thunder clap and birds witness
a criminal falls torn from within

breathless
begging mercy
no following speech
perhaps a mystery

the language of punishment
is graffitied on the inner walls
of the corrupted heart
playing like an Lp

The devil just kicks back
and indulges your play list
as it revolves around and around
carved in to destiny

the artist was you
pretending to be the victim
the witness
Oh this Lord just walks over us


Street change on Barbosa avenue

 After the street market Tacks my business associate and I went up the steep street next to the avenue to see the lawyer.
His door was locked, the late afternoon was a soothing shade under blue, a crisp warmth.
We knocked again before getting out our cigarettes.
"Do you think he's busy or do you think he's out?"
Tack said "He knows it's you, he's avoiding you."
"Oh that's hurtful I said sarcastically"

The lawyer had been avoiding us for weeks, and passing a few other people on the way up the street, we could see we weren't the only ones. The windless calm did lull us into a false sense of security which was never good in Sao Paulo.

Timmy and Acorn the street bums happened upon us. 
Timmy rummaged along the side of the street, through the trash. Looking for loose change or something the punters let fall from their pockets. Same two mendingos after every street market, making a few bob off watching the cars. 

Acorn regarded us directly and spoke politely but in hushed tones so that his companion wouldn't hear him.
"Hi bosses, how you'se goin aye? Listen I don't usually ask, but it's about Ol Timmy here, last night he was evicted from his buildin, him in his missus kicked out on their asses."
"Oh horrid" I put Tacks nodding sympathetically.
Both if us taken in hook line and sinker.
"Yeah so Im getting together some change to put him up in a shelter, you spare a few?"

"I guess so" "Yeah no worries" Tack and I replied.
Handing over a few real. 

I turned to Tacks, almost moved to emotion by the friends gesture.
"Would you do something like that for me if I was in a similar mess?"
"Most probably would"
But look tacks pointed. Acorn had taken off walking hurriedly away, leaving the Timmy to continue his afternoon rummaging.

"I guess sharing a bottle of white rum and a cardboard box hasn't done anything for their relationship!"
We fell about laughing.
Timmy got ears of our jokes and his head went up like a hen in danger.
Positioning his ear to get an idea of what we were saying, the way he moved his neck seemed to quick or tight.

I rose my index to my lips, but Timmy knew we were joking about him. We started walking back down to the bottom of the street looking away from his targetting glances. We got to the pedestrian crossing and had to stop. We didn't see Timmy following us, he popped out of nowhere and without respecting personal distance came in almost hugging us.


The tone of Timmy's voice was full especailly rueful.
"Acorn always does that, he gets money telling a story bout me gettin evicted. Thing is I aint got no lodgins. What I scrounge is just for eats int it?"

"Do you need a buck Timmy?" Tacks asked. "Yeah since ya askin I do now."
We were expecting him to tear up in repentence of a life ill spent, neither of us had wanted for much in our lives. Was it heartfelt charity that made us reach for our wallets or just the desire to have Timmy's strange smelling clothes away from us, the question just intensified the guilt of knowing we were haves, and he was a have not.

"What about your friend then selling you out like that? Why do you still hang out with that lout then?"
"Because next week it'll be his turn to rummage outside the lawyers building, and my time to play the violin."
Timmy grabbed the bronze reals from our hands and sprinted into the traffic, laughing.

"How is it with so many casualties on the roads every day, these guys never get hit?"
Tacks scoffed and giggled briefly.

"Because they know how things work better than we do."