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Literature



The Barbs of Passion

As Farpas da Paixão



My last Poetry book entitled "The barbs of Passion" edited by WorldArtFriends.com
It comprises many sonnets, and other poems written by me since late adolescence till the relative present days.
I would be immensely glad if you could take a look to it on here or if you could buy one copy on the online editor's shop.
Many scholars say that Poetry is the final step for mastering a language, so If you desire to improve your Portuguese please take a look to it

If you'd like to have an exemplar, please buy one at the editor's shop




Note: As an independent and unknown writer and Poet I am, I had to pay a little fortune to edit and to print my books, I am just trying to recover partially that amount.
Thank you very much for your attention!



Here I put some of my poetries and some of my writings, which I think they are quite interesting.
I must confess that my source of inspiration is my opposite gender, divine creatures created by God, either sinful or attractive, or both. To these goddesses it can be applied the universal principle of perfectiveness and balance. Their facial tracings obey to every single rule of beauty and kindness, they're the passionate magnetic pole which naturally attracts every single man into the chaos, driving them in decaying and depressive feelings. Female gender can also be the source of a transcendental force which enables Mankind to produce the most beautiful forms of art.
If you are familiar with the Portuguese language, you can always try to read my Portuguese prose or my Portuguese poetry.



Poetry

To the bright Marisol
(I've met her on a bar in Salamanca during my trip to the northern Spain in January of 2005)


You said: Sea and Sun,
which evidentially mean,
just Joy and Fun.
That’s what I’ve seen.


On an obscure street
You brightened, “Marisol”,
I appreciated to meet,
the maid, who’s inflamed my soul

and flooded my spirit.
God is already aware
that I’m a strong critic
and not many times fair

when it concerns girls,
but so sure as my death
and so rare as pearls
I dread not any threat

from any jealous king
who trod on your foot.
I don’t know anything
which could mat your shoot.

A stunning islander
whom I have venerated
and for anyone’s banner
this poem I’ve created.





A sonnet to Agnes
(Hungarian girl who I've met in Lisbon during summer course in 2005)

I would like to be sure
about my inner feelings
To interpret their meanings
So painful, though so pure

Your smile is my cure
and for all human beings
and above all their sayings
there's a goddess, it's for sure

A shining golden hair
which irradiates this darkness
named Agnes who I care

and I had her as my guest
I ignore if she's aware
of her immense sharpness



More English poems

My thoughts, which are simply read
by some creatures of the night
The words which were simply said
trough the shadows of delight

This anger which I can't avoid
is burning me inside
Ancient passion which was destroyed
by a legion: Letal fight.

Ever time I think of thee
Many knives stab into my flesh
the picture which I refuse to see
gives me pleasure trough dirty cash

I'm just like a dream
but I haven't seen
passion, love or delight
trough the shadows of the night

But I do see our spirits
when I hear these lyrics
They're the magic of your soul
and compose the whole
of everything which I do love:
You're my sweetest dove.

If I've done anything wrong
and I crossed the paths which are long
I hope to do everything right
cause the rhyme says delight

Uppercase, crossed words, read around
talk to much, say so many, say it loud
But my soul had no meaning
inside this poor short burnt being

But I insist, I do press the same key
that I need you, the interior of myself I see.



Six quatrains written in English

Every hour, every minute
Every second, with delight
I cross every limit
which unties me from your sight.

Every moment, any frame
which captures you, into my heart
I feel it with great pain
cause I still force you apart

With no pleasure, nor even joy
I stare you, into my soul
If I treated as a toy,
would you be into my world?

Neither pain, nor even sadness:
The shadows which shine from you
I'm sober, but still my madness
force me: So many things to do

Shall be authentic this desire?
Was it given by some God?
Burning water and cold fire
capture me into my pod.

If I don't know my future life
If it's unknown my longing fate
I do love you, my beloved wife
since the day we start to date.



Now, a very special poem, a dedicatory the new empire settled in the new world. Their language and their principles are omnipresent, I would even say that they entitle themselves as a God substitute, they see themselves as a reference to the new ages and to the future generations.

The western kingdom

And the western king said to his advisor....
What about Africa?
Shall we give them freedom?
Shall we give them aid?
We shall give them both.
We shall give them aids.

And the western king asked to his advisor....
What about Asia?
Shall we give them freedom?
Shall we give them aid?
We shall give them none.
Let’s give them the throne.

And the western king said to his advisor....
What about Europe?
Shall we give them freedom?
Shall we give them aid?
We shall give them both.
As long as they pay.

And the western king said to his advisor…
And the Middle East?
Shall we give them freedom?
Shall we give them aid?
Let’s give them nothing
Let’s release the beast

And the western king said to his advisor…
What about Japan?
Shall we give them freedom?
Shall we give them aid?
We shall give them trust
But atoms come at first

And the western king said to his advisor…
And Iraqi people?
Shall we give them freedom?
Shall we give them aid?
We shall give them bullets
We shall give them fate

And the western king said to his advisor…
What about ethics?
What about moral?
What about religion?
Let’s ignore all
Let’s evoke freedom
Let’s evoke the kingdom
Let’s evoke liberty
Let’s reject purity
Let’s evoke insanity
Let’s evoke happiness
Let’s reject sadness

Cause moral is nothing
Perceptions mislead
Religion perceive
The life constraints
Moral, just pains

Let’s burn those infidels
Let’s reborn, see the cradle

What about the world?
What about humanity?
What about the specie?
Were that in vain?
Was that just pain?

Let’s bring our souls
From heaven to earth
Let’s sing, let’s flirt
Let’s enjoy life
Let’s reject Christianity
Let’s reject that creed
But we shall feed
Freedom and Fraternity
Let’s mislead equality

We’re nothing than flesh
Let’s live life, fresh
Vigour, strength, Power
Harmony, my flower

Am I a cow? Am I a coward?
Am I a Buddhist? Am I altruist?
Cause the Western king
is ferocious, and is mild
Shall we enjoy the green field?
Shall we enjoy harmony?
Shall we enjoy lust?
Shall we evoke trust?

We shall give them all
Let’s give them agony
Let’s give them nothing
And then we set them free
So they, the light will see




Prose

The unimputable nomadic missionary

On the beginning that poor mind thought life was great and pink, full of joy and happiness like those Germanic people want life to be, and they reflect it on their languages. So, as a poor child, with no condition to learn this so wide and spread language which covers the entire world, he goes abroad, knowing nothing about how to pronounce, talk correctly when it concerns verbs and adjectives. This language where the adjectives are written on the opposite side, when comparing with his own language. In his childhood, pain was a daily basis, not pain related with soul or mind, not pain due to passion or lack of it, but physical pain, sharp and annoying pain which has never set him free. But what is freedom? He always asked himself. Being free, is writing whatever you wish, is thinking whatever you desire, is letting your most primary instincts get away, and not allowing them to reprimand yourself. That is freedom! Is that? He wondered, as an intelligent and curious boy he was. In his own language he hasn't written much, everything which was said had a bitter flavor, every step he gave in his own country, it seemed he was stepping trough a pitch of tiny nails. So if he hasn't written much, or created much in his cave, from which he could never get away, he would decide to leave, to enjoy freedom, to appreciate the magnificence of green landscapes, he as poor boy he was, he went north. Why north, he wondered? Why the vertical axis? Because in this language he dominated inside, but in which he could never say to a girl “I love you”, in this language which caused him such anger and despair, his mother tongue so delicate and aggressive, in his own language he just found great agony. So death was normal desire, depression went trough his subconscious. But a child, who suffers from such physical pain, a child whose reason to be alive, is complex to understand, a child who is beaten without any kind of rational reason. All this anger has to be dropped away in some way. So he travels north. But why north? As death crossed his mind constantly, and the Arabic rhyme which has so much influence in his language, despite what many scholars say, he sought for something which could be related with his fateful desire. So in his language, north rhymes with death. So, he goes north. As he went north, he was imagining the beautiful landscapes which he could contemplate. And as he managed to live there, he was learning this so called free language: English. Just a boy, traveling north. If in his own language he just found physical pain, aggression trough his childhood, in this other language he would find another kind of pain; not worse, not better, a pain which made him suffer so desperately. When he started to pronounce his first words in his own language, he might have said mammy or daddy, he was born free, but as he grew up, he realized life was not that free as many people wanted him to believe. So, with time, he realized, that freedom, was just a kind of metaphor to use in speeches and to evoke for own interests in revolutions and other kinds of man manipulation. In his own language he learned that, freedom was nothing, but just because he couldn't find freedom in his own language. His language is sharp, aggressive and depressive. So, he found in English a way to evoke all his dreams, his marvelous soul wanted him to express himself, to expose his magic inside trough words, pronounced or written. And then, he traveled north, where languages do not blame the being who desires to be happy, where freedom is standardized and put on the top of all pillars. On these Germanic languages, everything is so pure, and there's nothing which one says, which could make them feel angry or guilty about what was said. So, words, moved freely, and what was inside went outside trough syllables, terms, which haven't blamed him. But many things have passed before, and he, carried the black box with him, his mind. With the secrets known just by some, who are never allowed to reveal what is known. The secrets of his black box: his mind. It seemed like his mind, like the most common human being's mind, was formed by many layers, like a heap, a stack, and in the lower layer was the extreme desire of revenge. So it seemed he had a mission. Which mission? Not even him, was aware of the reason of his mission. But why? Why isn't he grateful? Gratefulness is something which just the perfect men can feel. And he was not ready to accept gratefulness. He goes north and meets a girl; it was not hard or difficult to do it. Now, he could say to girls the most beautiful things. He could say you're beautiful, he could say I adore you; he could say “I love you”.

He meets a girl, he dates with her and he says: “I love you”
She says: “I don't”
He replies: “Why not?”
She: “Because I simply don't!”
He: “But why, if I do? If I adore you!”
She: “I don't. You're just a piece of shit!”
He: “Am I a piece of shit? Why is that?”
She: “Because you are.”
He: “Am I?”
She:”Yes, you are”
He: “But I do love you, you're beautiful, you have a beautiful hair, you have a extraordinary skin, you have a marvellous pale face, you have a perfect breast, you have an amazing body. You are the best thing which could have happened in my life. I adore you!”
She: “But I don't, you're a piece of shit”
He: “Why is that?”
She: “Because I fucked with this other guy and you're nothing compared to him.”
He: “And that was something which gave you pleasure?”
She: “What?”
He: “Fucking with him!”
She: “What gave much more pleasure was telling you this!”
He: “Is that so?”
She: “Despite having sex with him, which is much more delightful than being with you, a piece of shit who doesn't have guts to touch me like a man. The thing which gives me extreme pleasure is telling you how weak you are!”
He: “So, you're telling me that you had sex with him, not having sex with me, despite you're being my girlfriend!”
She: “Am I you girlfriend? ... Yes I am, I almost forgot!”
He: “You are because I love you and adore you, because I have an extreme
desire for you, because when I look at you I see heaven”
She: “When I look at you I see nothing!”
He: “Don't you see me?”
She: “If you're talking about a physical body, of course, I must confess I see something. A mass of weak, ugly and stupidly tender mind man”
He: “Don't you believe in me when I say that I love you?”
She: “I do, and that's exactly because of that I think you are so stupid and ridiculous”
He: “Am I stupid because I love you?”
She: “The other guy is much different from you. He's a Man. He treats me like a woman should be treated!”
He: “Is that so? And loving you and being tender to you is not like a woman should be treated?”
She: “No. That's like a child should be treated! You treat me like a piece of crystal. That's why you are a piece of nothing!”
He: “But try to understand, I do love you.”
She: “Shut up! I had sex with the other guy, and that was something which gave me the most pleasure! Being with you is just so boring!”
He: “Please, don't leave me!”
She: “Stupid man, leave me alone”
He: “Please, I do love you”
She: “Stupid you are! Get away, Now!” she ordered firmly.
So, he decided he had to know what really had happened. Why did she treat him like that? He got away, gave some steps, and moved smoothly, as he didn't want to be heard and he went towards the other guy's door. He knocked, waited for some seconds and suddenly a face appeared to his sight. He asked: “I just want to know some information.”
The other replied: “Which information?”
He: “Did you have sex with my girlfriend?”
The guy: “Who is your girlfriend?”
He: “The girl who lives right here, next to your door, your neighbour!”
The guy: “Oh, that bitch! Yes I had!”
He: “But why?”
The guy: “Because I wanted. I am a free man, and if I want to fuck a girl, I
simply do it.”
He: “But didn't you know she was my girlfriend?”
Guy: “That bitch is your girlfriend? Let me tell you she gives good heads!”
He: “Is that so? To be honest I never made love with her.”
Guy: “So it means you are more stupid than she is, and believe me, she's really stupid”
He: “She's not stupid. She's beautiful and I do love her!”
Guy: “I also do love to fuck her!”
He: “Do you?”
Guy: “Yes, I do? Despite being stupid, she has a great ass, big tits and she gives great heads. It was a great and tremendous night!”
He: “But when did you have sex?”
Guy: “During all this week! From Monday to Saturday! I stopped on Sunday
cause it's a holy day!”
He: “But in which period during the day?”
Guy: “All nigh long! But don't worry. Now you can take her. I'm sick of fucking with her!”
He: “I do love her!”
Guy: “Fuck off” the guy said aggressively and then shut the door on his face.

He listened to all this things in English, the language in which he though he would find happiness. He moved away full of pain, to his country, in which he had also found the words full of reprimand. What to do? He thought. How to react? He wondered. If he had received pain in both languages, how should he express himself? He simply cannot. So he found this archaic music, classical music which nobody hears anymore, at least no one he knows. So he can feel pain and pleasure just for himself. He hides himself inside a solid shelter which he continually creates and enforces. He doesn't let anyone cross it, like the character of that book he had read some years before, the metamorphose. He lives for himself, and everything he creates is made for himself. Nothing which come from outside is allowed. And there's not even one day in which he doesn't think in her. Five years have passed and he tries to contact her.

He says: “Five years have passed and I still love you.”
She replies: “Who are you? Your face is a bit familiar.”
He says: “I am that man who dated with you, and who was in love with you!”
She: “Oh, of course, now I remember. Let me tell you I completely forgot you.”
He: “I thought about you every single day!”
She: “Why that obsession?”
He: “Because I loved you. But tell me. How are you?”
She: “Now I'm fine, I found a man who treats me nicely, who treats me with tenderness, and cares about me. I needed something like this. I was sick of having many different men!”
He: “And about me?”
She: “Now I remember you, I think you were the fifth on my dating list! If you were not the fifth, you were either the sixth or the fourth.”
He: “But I didn't even made love with you!”
She: “I was not talking about that list!”
He: “But are you fine now? How do you feel after five years?”
She: “I feel myself very fine! As a free woman I am I feel myself very comfortable and I regret nothing what I've done!”
He: “I couldn't be free because I had you in my mind every single day.”
She: “Let me tell you; I thought of you not even a second!”
He “And why is that?”
She: “You tell me!”
He: “But how do you feel right now!”
She: “Now I am OK. I found a man who treats me with tenderness and cares about me. To be honest I was sick of having men who didn't care with me and just wanted me for sex.”
He: “You were?”
She: “Yes, I was. This life of going to bed with many guys day after day let me a bit tired. Now I want something more relaxed and finally I found someone who treats me respectfully and cares about me.”
He: “You found?”
She: “Yes, I did.”
He: “So let me tell you I’m glad you're happy!”
She: “Ok. Thanks. Find happiness for yourself and don't bother me again.”

He moved away; after five years the story repeats by itself. Now he wonders! If he never made her anything bad, if the only thing he's made to her was loving her and treating her with tenderness, why was she so cruel with him? Five years is a lot of time. Many months, many days and much more seconds have passed. Has life to be miserable? Has a man to suffer like this? Why such pain? In his own country he had already found extreme pain, physically and psychologically, and he goes abroad to feel himself free and he just finds more pain. Why is that so, he wonders. Why women, who he loves and desires so much, have to treat him like that? He found during this five years really nice and tender girls, who seemed to be attractive, intelligent and friendly. But because human being is just like a responsive machine to its past events, he couldn't avoid remembering of that extreme pain, which was being in love with the other girl. He wondered, and maybe he realized world is much more complex he thought it was, though it observes strict rules, mathematical equations which are dominated just by perfect beings. Balance is the factor key. Justice has to be made, if not by Man, by God, which by language similarity is supposed to be good. If God is not that abstract being which punishes men who do not obey Him, at least He is the ruler who asserts the pure and divine universal equations of balance, justice and beauty. And then, this poor boy wondered why his girlfriend abandoned him and betrayed him. He realized maybe women have been unfaithful trough ages, and that is just a reaction of those sinful behaviors. It seems the Christ's most beloved had made him the same. She had also betrayed him, giving information about his lover to the Romans. And balance has to be fulfilled. Is not because of that, that the statue symbolizing justice represents balance as a master value? And all this pains were, either pronounced or written in English by him. Neither English nor his mother tongue, Portuguese, seemed to give him some freedom which he sought so desperately. Now, he walks calmly, and step by step he heals the hounds which are hard the heal. He expresses himself either in Portuguese or in English, smoothly, with no rushes. He slowly tries to avoid the bitterness of life, and he tries to grab again the beauty which can be found in either Nordic or Lusitanian girls. It's hard, but it's something which has to be done step by step. He has to grow up, because years pass by, and if he doesn't find happiness in this life, it wouldn't be for sure in another life. He found girls which he likes, different from the other one, and he tries to deliver his hearth to them, it's a hard task, but it has to be done, and he has to interiorize that variety is something which fortunately or not, is part of the human being. And if some girls didn't want him, maybe, as an act of revenge or just pure love, he will find many more who really love him. Because Love is everyone's life goal.