calmaria. @ma-la-ci-a - Tumblr Blog

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I feel the cars below the footbridge and tremble A big hand holds onto mine: Strong, but gentle. "Don't look down, we're almost there." Down the street the steps go hastily And I try to follow their pace Dancing clumsy, but happy. I sing songs without knowing what they mean And the autumn wind blows down red leaves Of big, tall country almond trees. The smell of warm bread And strawberries, The éclairs And the singing Kombis, The fresh fruit and costumes Are burnt into my memory Like an old fever dream The orange and purple wheelie bag, The old ladies with their dogs and cats, A path beneath the sunset that tastes like sugar cane and strawberry milkshakes. Rio is a cinematic memory.

Lola, 27 de Agosto de 2023.

#alma #autoria

Today I dreamed I was Midas using my soft, clumsy hands to put back pieces of myself that I have broken, like a vase. I'm not versed in the art of kintsugi, my mending looks like a golden curse, but somewhere near me there lies a dusty polaroid in a cardboard box. Memories that once belonged to me but now look like someone else's come haunting in my sleep, make me wish I could go back to this: a framed memory frozen in time, fake smiles and false friendships a sepia tragedy in the making. There's no escape from destiny and no stopping this sad melody, A shadow of what once was like a ballerina in a music box I dance to my own sadness.

Lola, 26 de Agosto de 2023.

#alma #autoria

Sigo em busca de soluções efêmeras (I keep looking for ephemeral solutions) para problemas persistentes: (for persistent problems:) algo que me afaste de mim mesma (something that takes me away from myself) e dos demônios e quimeras (and the demons and chimeras) que habitam a minha mente (that inhabit my mind) Ando por vias estreitas (I walk along narrow roads) seguindo rastros que se dissipam, (following trails that dissipate,) o grito vira eco (the cry becomes an echo) e a sombra se oculta. (and the shadow is hidden.) Há uma certa antecipação na procura, (There's a certain anticipation in the search,) mas a verdade é que na hora mais escura (but the truth is that in the darkest hour) ainda estou com medo (I'm still afraid) e não tenho muita ajuda (and I don't have much help) A areia movediça soprada em meus olhos (The quicksand blown into my eyes) é como faca amolada (is like a sharp knife) e cega meus sonhos. (and blinds my dreams.) Tenho grandes pensamentos, (I have great thoughts,) mas de que me adianta (but what's the point) sonhar com estrelas (dreaming of stars) sob um céu de amianto? (under an asbestos sky?)

Lola, 30 de Agosto de 2023.

#alma #autoria

Eu costumava ser capaz de sangrar minha dor no papel (I used to bleed my pain onto paper) Mas há tempos minhas veias ressequidas (But now my veins have withered) Acumulam mágoas em meu coração (Sorrows accumulate in my heart) E deixam em minha boca o gosto de fel (And leave my mouth with a bitter taste) Come chocolates, pequena, come chocolates, (Eat chocolates, little girl, eat chocolates,) Mas saiba que nem os mais doces deleites tiram o amargor da sua alma (But know that not even the sweetest delights will take away your soul's bitterness) E assim como ocorre com a água, (And just like water,) Tudo se esvai mais depressa (Everything drains away faster) Se tentas represá-la. (If you try to dam it up) Me pergunto se Sísifo ainda sonha com o paraíso (I wonder if Sysiphus still dream of paradise) Em algum lugar no Oriente, (Somewhere in the East,) Por aqui tenho sonhos árcades, (Around here I have arcadian dreams,) Mas todos me parecem tão distantes (But they all seem as distant) Quanto um mito grego. (As a greek myth.) Durmo e penso em cores, (I sleep and think of colors,) Acordo e tudo é cinzento, (I wake up and everything is grey,) Na penumbra tudo é indistinguível (In the half-light everything is indistinguishable) E para longe vão meus pensamentos (And my thoughts wander away) Como Ícaro em vôo livre (Like Icarus in a flee fight) Eu caio pela inúmera vez (I fall again and again) Caio em armadilhas por mim mesma tecidas (I fall into traps I wove myself) Como uma Aracne masoquista (Like a masochistic Arachne) Preferiria mil vezes a ignorância (I'd much prefer the ignorance) do que a certeza de estar perdida (than the certainty of being lost)

Lola, 23 de Agosto de 2023.

#alma #autoria

About mourning

Today I mourn the humpback whale that died on the shore with a broken fin

I wonder how it felt to helplessly drift towards the sandy beach

And how its gigantic heart felt, oh, so small, at the sight of the sea-sprayed fishermen

What a surprise it must have been

To be saved by hands that are used to kill your equals

And I think of the terror it felt when it ran aground for the second time

During its last moments, did it still think of life?

Or did the inevitable reality of its finitude took hold of its mind?

I wonder if it had a meeting with the divine

I sure hope it did.

Today I mourn the pigeons on the streets

Who once were handled with care and affection

Their damaged little bodies seeking comfort in concrete nests

Their misery, a result of human action

And I wonder if something inside of them recalls the feeling of warm hands and full bellies

Their mighty glory,

The golden days when they flew from towers made of ivory

And had more than a few breadcrumbs to feast on

Has Hermes forgotten his beloved assistants?

How awful must it feel

To be betrayed by your God

And reduced to a plague,

treated with no regard

Today I mourn the 8th grader who took his own life

I wonder if he ever felt loved,

And what was the cause of his despair

I wonder how terrified he felt during his last moments

I imagine him laying alone on the cold bathroom floor

And I wish I could hold his hand for a little while

I wish I could tell him that he would be alright

And that our fate won't be that of pigeons or mice

But the reality is that each second that goes by

We get a little closer to our own demise

Today I mourn the lady who didn't let cancer take her life

I wonder how bad she must have felt writing her last words knowing they were a lie

How awful it must have been to live with an expiration date for such a long time

And I wonder if she felt like the humpback whale,

Effortlessly fighting a tidal wave

And I think that all of them find out

That finding comfort in the thing that kills you

Is such a bittersweet aftertaste.

Lola, 17 de Julho de 2023.

#alma #autoria

How do you put yourself together

How do you put yourself together,

when all your life you have been taught that you were only as valuable

as other people thought about you?

Because as long as I can remember

People told me I should be or act a certain way, or else

I would not be seen as worthy;

How do you put yourself together,

when you can not recognize yourself in the mirror,

nor even understand your own thoughts?

Because I have been so lost inside myself,

and I never thought I could miss my own self,

but I often wonder where did I go;

How do you put yourself together,

when the same cycle keeps repeating itself,

no matter what you try?

Because it feels like I am turning in circles around the same issues,

and it's been so long I thought I should be over it,

but I see people I love acting the same as people who hurt me

and I wonder what kind of love is it that I deserve.

And maybe it's why I always get caught up and tangled

in every love interest I have,

because like they said in that movie

we accept the love we think we deserve;

And I've been trying to be loved,

but it is hard when you can't see

why anyone would want anything from you;

I know the world outside is mean and cruel,

but at least I used to hear good things

among those hatred-filled views.

Now I am trapped inside a glass cube,

and the only things I hear are passive-aggressive cursing,

you see, after all this time hearing,

you slowly start believing it.

So please, tell me, how am I supposed to put myself together,

fit my pieces like a puzzle,

when I was never whole, to begin with?

How do you keep yourself together

when all the world around you seems to be falling apart?

#alma #autoria

handa

daniardor

THE CRAFT (1996) dir. Andrew Fleming

inutilidadeaflorada

O Alvo do Pugilista

Sorriso ao punho pesado Que a língua guarde os dentes Em suas voltas frívolas O nariz que continue na ponta do pé Segure o impacto Proteja a mandíbula Receba-o de peito aberto Na ignorância da bênção Para se salvar vale esvaziar os sentidos Esconder-se em um exílio inacessível Previamente já respirar a dor E todos os seus sintomas pungentes Atordoado, com os olhos lacrimejantes Já esperando os próximos golpes Trovando a pálpebra dos olhos inchadas Sonhando com um saco de gelo Parte de seu rosto está anestesiado Como se um pedaço caísse Sua fala se arrasta, sua língua amolecida Está de braços dados com a vertigem O pulmão puxando o ar Aspirando mil quilos de chumbo junto Soletrando a fomentação de deus Guerreando por espíritos anêmico Com que dedicação seu corpo Poderá segurar o peso Imagético e eterno das feridas O peso concreto do soco Caído no asfalto Gesticula sua masculinidade Rasteja-se pelo chão Voltando para o seu esgoto privado…