WRITING..

Poems – texts (project, text existing with music played under)
Part of the new project of Dogod.
Revolution

November 2019

Next gene

There is the real you
There is the real me
You see it as a reflection
Build up inside as covering up
Nice clothes, new jeans
that the mask of the genes.
I have born with them but they are not
What I am.

I assure you it is really the real you
hidden in you.
One occasional day when you don’t feel your way, you will enter a bar
and see the stranger is ‘da’.
It looks like a foreign motion, in a huge golden posture.
I touch it’s arm while it disappears at last.

There the drink stands alone, like a lotion of love.
The elixir goes to my mind before I can leave that bar and say goodbye.

Where did the stranger go? that was my self-thinking.
That my ego is an illusion
with new jeans and great fashionable tricks
So I drink really fast and my heartbeat up
So I drink really fast
to find the time reverse in the heart.

There is the real you
I assure is real
One occasional day when you don’t feel your way, you might enter a bar and see the stranger is da!
Yes I think is a bar but maybe it is a spa.
Where the memories are flowing and I get naked in those new jeans, which are now memories of the old genes.

It looks like a foreign motion in a huge golden posture.
You touch it and it disappears like a blowing mirage of options.
Yes! These were your validations, your carrier, and hesitations, with your mother the highschool and the teddy bear fatherhood!
The best friends and they wish to be as others were seen

The recognition is a drink.
You take it fast without touch the glass.
I assure you is real, the real you,
hidden in you.
Let it emerge in life,
Not when you are lying on that bed,
Not when you’re lying ‘on that’ death
Not when you are lying on the last day of your planet’s heart



Favorite cake

Your planet heart
Our planet earth
Our planet hurt
I feel you are hurt
I feel you are hurt
I fell you don’t want to feel that you are hurt
Covering up
This feeling of covering up, tears like a blanket. I am a river and you can’t feel it
Because what I am singing
is our delusion.
Because what I am singing
is your illusion.
Our planet hurt
I feel you are hurt
I feel hurt
I feel hurt when in the supermarket there is no space for the last pack of my favorite cake.

Did you make it propose to shoot,
to shoot direct
To shoot direct
on that planet heart?

I get angry at the stranger
as a false reflection of all that I care
and the extension of my thought makes explode the war in the world.
The extension of the thoughts makes destroy all that remains on the shelf of that cake.
I can’t get even the second favorite one, because,
with the extension of the thoughts, I blow it all!

Cakes smashed, in a line of misery and self-pity,
sugar on the corner of that red fire extinguisher, that did not work!
With tracks along the wall
that reminds how the past looked old.
With track along the wall
in this ending post-modern party
where I did not even get invited.

And there, I arrive,
and it is late and all the beauty it went away.
On this planet earth
On this planet earth
Yes, the supermarket is there between Neükolln and the hell of thoughts that they have, you have, she has, he has
As an extension of your fears, you created a new gene.

A small lady pass me closed,
Tell me it is all ok
and will be blue along the way.
Like a river I become.

A small lady pass me closed and tell me is all great,
another supermarket is on the way!
And it has great cakes.
It has even a new flavor, choco-escape failing with tracks of past trauma experience
on the top of the cherry.

It is made with an inspiring graphic of revolution, choco-destruction and blaming.
Don’t you see it?!
The new age being is here!
I assure you it’s an illusion,
and I will not allow it to manifest in me.

There are no other supermarkets on the way. The planet earth was my favorite cake,
on the hills where I learned to run
when childhood was in my lungs.
Where the swimming in that sea
was like disappearing into me
That planet earth was my favorite flavor with
a mixture of plants and beings to breath right in my lungs,
that what I said to the small ladybug.




3D

We smashed all
We smashed gold
We smashed the part of us that we love
Let me buy one more thing
while you die in this mirage of kings.

We smashed all
We bought it all
We bought the other and told the law
accomplish the task
so the robot could start.
Inside a mechanism filled with images and trash.
Inside a mechanism that does not last.

We smashed all
We don’t last
We don’t last
in the present and past,
enriching one part that keeps no last.
I gave power thinking
you do are me
that move me
in this 3D.
I slaved people,
got better,
impersonate my mother and my partner, I am trying to become the reaction at last.
Winning all, as Putin does.

We don’t last
You don’t last
You don’t last with just memories of the past,
power games of the superior system
on the people
and mere visions.
Jesus Christ said also
I am just a mirage of the unconscious,
I can’t govern, I can’t last
If you don’t integrate the parts of you that lack.

We are a mirage
It’s a mirage
It’s a mirage you want to grab,
rich take the momentum and fly at, without the satisfaction
of this great effect
and marvelous action.

At least you made it
Buy the ticket
one-way trip in the theory and myths Without ever coming back home
No remorse, no sense of be being born.




Human, being

History was made
and I was there
History was made
And I was there
as a part of this mirage, I was the missing puzzle of a crazy Era.

Awakening slowly.
The water will miss.
Awakening slowly we need to drink.
No alchol and emotions,
partnership and luxurious flies in the land of
‘I survived!’.
Awakening slowly
That was the morning.
Tuesday and november as a season
that we call to adress the fact
That we are part of this mirage
obsessive tridimensional fact!
Where we don’t want to lose the dream
at last.

Awakening slowly and it is there
I see it aside from me
It’s a mirage
It’s the mirage. The same for everyone
And this is not spirituality,
mumbo jumbo and crap,
this is the emptiness that you feel every day,
between buy the last ticket one ride way
and the feeling that stays home
it’s a better day.

It’s a mirage and is beside you
It’s awake every day with you.
This is the emptiness that you feel every day, and thats ok.
If you stay stilll there,
is what the spirituality call the gate.
The emptiness that transforms into depression,
dying and unfair conditions.

But if you stand still
as a humans being.
From the emptiness
something other appear.

Awakening slowly.
The water will miss.
Awakining slowly we need to drink
No alchol and emotions,
partnership and luxurious flies in the land of
‘I survived!’

It’s awake every day with you
If you stand still
as a humans, being.
From the emptiness
something other appear.

You will see there is other in the bed,
the room is full of flowers on the desk,
A sense of spring outside the window despite the season.
The blanket has a color
and you see it
behind and through,
just not far away from you.

The mirage is around and a part of you.
Awakening takes time
while I am still
brush my teeth
in all this sense of spring.
I watch my self in the mirror
right aside from my ego,
thats not the bathroom where I am,
is more a sense
of the bliss of ‘me’.


Poetry – November 2019 
From ‘State of existance’  (25′)
An art movie project  with Laika dog 

While I am resting and holding the existence with Laika,
She sang a song.

I use to sing this song in days that the three-dimension it’s taking over and it tries to choose for me.

no through the eyes
no through the mind
no through the time and stereotype
history, decisions, reaction, and politic divisions
no through the eyes
no through the mind
if you don’t watch me you will see me
if you don’t watch yourself you will see, you
lying down, there, just in the emptiness.
no action, no reaction.
no yourself
no the individual, just pure existence…appears
and from this place,
we meet,
with all the other -human- beings






November 2013 – Berlin

“my… something is getting expanded into some mystery place where we stop to create and we just sit down, to look at the landscape of images and emotions coming down as snow. Each little spot has the perfect place, and falls into a mouth smiling in front at the sensation of home, before melting and fusing with the rest of the flow that becomes legs running fast in a forest, legs of animals, legs of humans, legs free to hidden things behind a tree, we will find again this the next day, it will grow and feed the tree, and our eyes. We are wild animals, big eyes and soft and scary fur, with little bubbles of snow all on top. Can we stay here forever? the cold doesn’t make us disappear, the forest calls you. We are dogs, we are foxes. Screaming in the middle of the snow I found a hand that is like a cup, which you can drink if “I” am trusty and see my eyes twist into legs, I can have a bath and there is still space for the smell that doesn’t have a shape anymore. I am becoming fog running so fast that nobody will see me, and the snow will not touch me until I decide to stop. Because you arrive in the forest, and I want to play, so I become legs again. Smile, eyes, mouth, sound.
Lines we are, tiny and ready to fall, energy coming from running, choosing the direction, I want this one! Behind the tree we know, behind the stone that doesn’t have all the snow on top, still, which I can sit down on and be invested by the wind until I become snow, then you can make a big ball and play with me. Bring me around, on the ground or in the sky, it’s the same. Suspension in the middle. I am in the forest, where there will always be snow, time to go there, see this… time, how many trees are still standing up, for hidden legs and memories between them? A song arrives and the beat is everywhere, you cannot stop it. But the space is never full. Do another ball. You will not find the same when you come back. I am changing all the time. I am changing all the time.”

December 2013

“If god were born as a dog, nobody would care at all about the meaning of words… not even about hair or makeup, but there would be communication working by smell.
Then it could finally all be much faster, and when someone can follow your speed, it will allow you to be even faster until it resonates in other bodies. Really far away we would still hear the sound. Just don’t ask me to slow down! I try to have… I try to have it now..”

” … So I cannot shut up, this Italian film goes on, still I have all the senses, my mind, (dog mind) doesn’t claim attention. A lot of time between the lines, sit down on the riverside, pushing a button to get to the other side, can I really split myself up? until another breath comes to bring me into the reality of a man sitting down in front of two… something, it’s difficult, between the fog and the cold that is still on my skin, I still cannot push the button, I am freezing now. What is this sense, that makes one feel so tired, and full of energy again, never the same, I split up in many places in the same day and still the day is not finished, then I shower, less thirsty… “

“… the glowing eyes attract me there, face in the snow, is cold again, a shape in there now, someone will see this later when we won’t be there anymore. Time determines my way to walk, now, and while running a sense a fox, I am transforming, never come back in time, is a different way to read the numbers, this system where you live, and what makes it important… a line navigates up to your neck and I can read another time, it’s late, I have to escape, I can’t, all are readable, I run even faster, someone else is in the forest now, someone new who melts into the snow while going through it.”

“There was a dog… there was a tiger, someone has become something else.
The dog played along with the imagination, without moving its body too much. One day the dog met something that changed the dimension. It is a little point that pushes the body into the other part of oneself. It feels like soft candy. The imagination of the tiger changes, all the space changes, it discovers that it can become a sound, a movement, and even a word, and it could even seem that the dog can talk. They are bridges, then become something else, the transformations never stop. But still now, in some places, they’re rubbing each other… thoughts.”

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