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Janaina Medeiros
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Jules of Nature
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Noah Kahan
@theartofmadeline
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RMH
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@abattoirsmile
Drive your lavander corvette all over my bones. Vanilla nightmare, dripping from my temple right on your malevolent tongue. My eyes are pretty only when they are between your fingers. You grind my ribs, and with them you gently, very gently, powder your coffee, while the morning rises slowly like a soul from a peaceful chest.
Jerusalem, oh Jerusalem!
You fascinate me, but I cannot love you!
Crosses are best deepened in tears,
A bride who does not bleed is already taken by life!
I cannot make you believe as the knife makes you
Believe in a wound, but at least help me!
I am human as your bones crack under the burden,
I am human as you sometimes hit your head against the sky.
I did not tell you that I am, but neither that I am not.
If you have a body, it does not mean that you will also have a corpse.
As the day cannot renounce the night, neither can I
Renounce your filth!
Join me, and I will join you.
Kiss me, and I will put kiss upon kiss
And I will whiten your blood, your mouth, your lands again.
Make your concubines speak, silks,
Spread them over the dust and see that they don't lift you up anywhere.
I don't ask for your follow, nor to be the dog that sniffs out my departure.
From the cruelty that builds a slaughterhouse, a nursery can also be built,
And where light cannot reach, death surely will.
If you want me easier to swallow, look for water.
If you want me easier to betray, look for my Father.
Oh Jerusalem, everything revokes me, no one wants me,
And I don't want anyone.
Pain hunts my organs with feline grace,
And I am so grateful that I don't know who to blame for this.
A red womb full
Of burning windows,
A womb that
I swallow while scratching
My knees that bend
Like spoons with a taste of blood.
The core of passion is bland, a mute
Misunderstanding between warm palms.
Only my corpses talk
As if they had nothing else to do.
But no matter how many thunders I would embrace
In my ears, how many lightnings
Could I look directly into the eyes?
But the slave who washes
And out of pure kindness
The foot of the
Master, thinks that even
Love has no choice.
I meet you among the shivers of evening creatures,
A sideral stitch, the hair a plaintive hymn.
It rained with a slow though, humming:
The howl sanctifies the flesh,
The sleep forgotten by the moon.
Forget the paradise after the expulsion
And the one without which we would no longer be together.
There is no bird that sings more beautifully than nostalgia. A madness stirs my flesh, to fall like the star of an immature desire, to be in everything that calls me, to be in the nothingness that mourns me. Darling… the sky has reached my blood. The sound of my own name haunts me. I feel how a century without a beginning ends in me. I pray to die to no one's love. The stars swing between you and nothing and I am convinced that I must lie, deny prayers and delight blasphemies…
Oh, winged sibyl, vaudevillian engagement,
On scabrous tongues you pour out bookish perdition,
Fangs of evanescence penetrate my being,
Eruptions of hunger suck my filthy body,
A crowding of organs dries up my soul,
Come swear me immortality like a swindling priestess!
Blood in the lodges spills like the violin is played,
You are the heavenly nobility that kills my virtues!
Bullets of perfume push from temple to temple,
Among your lies no one knows what truth is happening!
Amnesiac hips playing carnal festivals,
A ballerina's whirlwind among criminal aspirations,
From a cashmere vigil I love you coldly,
When the masquerade craves of skin to undress you…
Barked by dogs and stars, my idylls smell of burning bodies,
While opium ghosts gossip frail epithalams…
Jesus cried tears of inconsolable linden.
Sorrows pricked his heart with the tenderness of rock,
Fate baked his body like stale bread,
Wounds marvelled at such soft flesh,
Violences were ashamed of such red blood.
Bugs enchanted through thick grass,
Scents of blue and colourless mourning were calling
To youths who gave birth to gods.
Sufferers who stink of prayer, the dead who bury the
Living, those who cry corpses, dirty heels of a child.
And he knows that he does not have enought flesh
For everything that hurts in the world, nor enought soul
For the things that want themselves immortal in men.
But ,,glory to You, Father! How many nights will the
Moon adopt after I have died all that I had to die,
So many tears will I resurrect in what will end in You!
Because, Father”, he pressed his forehead to the
Cold silence of the stone.
“Isn’t crying a miracle, isn’t it the miracle?”
In the garden with the taste of weeping eyes
Birds bathed in sobs, for Jesus cried tears of
Inconsolable linden, and he could no longer
Wipe the sky off his cheeks.
The hill grew like a worry for tomorrow.
The flowers were scattered in psalms
And the scents wandered from one taste to another.
The evening lingered in the embrace of some
Sickly verses, purple and pious,
The steps fleshy with heaven and placidity.
Our bodies did not rhyme, but our dissimulations
Followed the same diamond suffocation.
A woman I would not have kissed even in the midst
Of the most credible confusion.
Hair longer than an agony,
Eyes dirtier than a wedding between two geniuses.
From her body only death would have been
Impacient to partake.
We walked together towards the only altar of my life,
But we returned more married than if we had never met.
But we were eviscerated from the same disappointment,
Abusing the same misfortune, moldy on the inside
By the same water of neglect.
She happened to me when I thought there was no more
Disease that I had not contracted.
The zephyr kissed our foreheads, the evening shadows
Tasted our convictions, our reason.
I was a feast, she - a rare family dinner.
I bled her out of my desire, an yet I took her cold hand,
Jealous, fearing that, in the end,
She will be deader than me.
She had the face of a fairytale with sweetened coffees
And people loved by God.
She did not love me, I knew, that is why I let her tempt
Me towards the same long night.
I hold the world pressed to the roof of my mouth.
The universe flows through a crack of eyelids.
Sanctify me with a tear,
Hate me with a smile!
You walk through my soul like through a
Hall of unborn suns.
Your pirouettes smell like lemon,
You sway like a spring hope,
I collapse on you and you scream like an
Infant on whom life collapses.
Dawn snaps between my teeth,
My mouth is a wound that ripens a single name.
I break like a boy’s neck when I think at how
Beautiful you would be hanged.
In the nights engaged to death,
When I asked the bartender for glasses of God,
When I made love to whatever
Chainsaw ridiculed my skin,
I dreamed of the ankle that paradise clings to,
And the thigh that hell drips on.
I spit all the stars out of my cheeks,
I hold the world pressed to the roof of my mouth.
I swallow my coffee and your face breaks
Like a lonely September breeze…
My fingers smelled of a name
Bathed in many faces, and
A journey from shoulder to shoulder
Turned me among many hearts
In which only time puddled like
The Impossible in a miracle.
A tempestuous change of mind
Preached me a flesh without feelings,
Happy, so happy thai I had to know you.
The day asked me when I will end it, and
The night asked me when I will start it.
I’ve ripped as many minds as I could lie,
I burned as many forest as I could extinguish,
I punished as much blood as I could forgive.
In the dead living and the living dying, in all of them
I bloomed all that was already budding,
Destroyed all that was already compromised.
I made the sea fall in love with the waves, the language
In love with the salt, the word in love with the sound,
The name in love with the face.
The clouds were frolicking between my ribs,
I was kissing bare mountain peaks,
I was planting angels in anyone’s eyes.
All fears were hoping for me,
No thirst could survive me.
Temptation and forgiveness, madness and illumination,
Close all of them like eyelash next eyelash.
I was wailing storms, mourning the nothingness pulled
Out of the darkness of the throat.
For me never, for them always.
The sky, which they scratched with their gaze, I tore
It like the lick of their mind.
And then, like what priceless gem the blood shone?
Rose mouths bite from my decay, bleeding bows sing me a dazed rhythm. I am and I am nothing but flesh among the claws of taming and I cry as only sacrifice would draw life from a baby.
Ah, so much probing, my wounds yawn the great sleep. The crossroads ask whose decision I am. I hunger for a name, for a gentleman in a salt meadow to show me how many death I must endure.
On the skeleton of fate I dry like a fragrant rag, and how beautiful I would be if I lived as my skin wants! I break between the teeth of the one who speak me like smoked meat, and I know when from my manger to flow like honey.
Wandering through so much lack of finding, I fill the clouds with grass. I wait for myself in the white of each neck that I slaughter, for only from the minds of others do I compose my necklace, killing the knees of the ideal that I cowardly glorify.
I humble myself devouring every fruit of pride. I am the carnivorous mockery of every sunset full of bones. I want my silences back, all the mouths from which I have uttered a buffoonery. I want all my madness back as a parent want his child.
I have no purpose, scratches that cry wisdom. I have no flight, heights that make me euphorically nauseous. I have killed and I will kill again, as doubt kills a prayer. I have screamed and I will scream again, as every dead person does every new morning.
I bathe in your lunar smiles
When your skin is pampered in verses of sweetness,
With you in my eyes I am no longer empty faced,
You were planted in my heart by a choir of Saturdays.
In your walk your hips incensed a fantasy,
I breathed you in a frenzy, my lips pearly with temptations,
In your vagueness of stars a forgotten church slept
And my temple knocked on the gate with a whisper of fragrance.
Monastic twilights cry your fate on their shoulders,
I am entrusted to them, because no life is one like yours
And I want to understand the myrrh-filled sleep of longing…
Nocturnal shivers long tempting,
Stepping barefoot among the fruits of mortality,
In vain they sanctified us as two immortals…
When life is no longer enough for life, and death is no longer enough for the dead, when thoughts cry out to each other like animals in the middle of a fire, and the blaze of fire is enslaved to silence, when the passion of awakening does not bring morning to your eyes, and the veil of night rolls over sleeping foreheads, when in a moment eternity thunders, and the future salivates for the poison that destroyed the past, when the dust is dizzy at the altitudes to which the flesh aspires, and God drops into the blood like a mouthful of alcohol in the stomach, then the soul retreats to serene despairs and seas of vinegar…
You want to bleed properly, but can’t find the tool that will hurt you with the best intentions.
You eat a bag of salt with a man and you still don't end up knowing him well.
Sometimes what we suffer doesn’t hurt us at all.
If God knew we were tied together by the ankles, he would break his leg just to get away from me. And what more could I do than eat his leg and digest the path I could take back before I existed.