butterfly

I felt these days as I’m walking like a butterfly flies…a flying with many curves…lop-sided flying…some loop movements…some akward flying, although a butterfly always  finds its way…in despite of winds and drizzle days…  reaching some flower to rest…to stay for a while…and keep flying…my butterflying walking lead me to some flower too…a tender flower…so tender little flower of joy…love ahead, I keep trustful in goodness…that tender flower, a blue rose…that blue rose so deep in my heart…some slumber walking…a soft wake up…of a short slumber…and after a down day, some good news…the choice of joy…the life to enjoy and share…some pleasant gifts…some writing…some reading…some listening the butterfly flying…so joyous flying!…and at sometimes I might enjoy dressing up and go to some elegant event…I received an invitation for a party…celebration of joy…so tender and strong joy…and I dress up a bow tie…she invited me…and we dance as a butterfly flying…not reflecting so much on things, but dancing…butterflying…and I could sett off…and race off down the road…without asking too many questions…dancing…we could fly…in the wings of trust and joy, loveliness and enjoyment… moments plenty of feeling of being alive…just staying dancing…just staying alive in!…pleasing the party of mutual harmony and wishes and…this so affectionated gift of gratitude…we can dance…we can keep on going the love road…building some butterflying paths…to the only one love…much love to so many tears drops falling from my soul…so joyous invitation…her loyal lovely closeness…perfect moments of lovely instants

facing down days and bad news

as the newspapers noticed a tragedy did occur here where i live, Brasil…in the state that I live, but not in the city where I live…a big fire lead to death so many young people…in a night club…named ‘kiss’…as if the kiss of the death take away around two hundred of so young people!…I know tragedies does occur everyday and all around the world…most of the tragedies are related to human irresponsibilities…most of the tragedies could be avoided…the tragedy itself is the ground of human condition…as if the kiss of death flow together with the kiss of birth…one day I will day…in the futures…I hope not today…I wrote some writing at saturday night…with some deep comotion, but I’ve not read the bad news…that tragedy did occur at saturday night…I pray for all people in the world that are victims of evitable tragedies…in this way, the horror is a part of human condition…but, also, our human condition is capable of build a better world…if literature if for enternainment, fiction literature is some survival task to support the horror…fiction literature is an ancient and worth source of lullaby…not to refuse so bad realitities, but for rolling the real, the tragedies, and create that support for keep on living…life is a mistery…time is a mistery…I feel some so closer touch in between time and life…and this misterious power of imagination and fiction is for reinvention of new realities…facing the real, creating new realities…good realities…lovely realities…and help to perceive the boundaries in between hunger and appetite, tragedies and these down days when death come to do somehow  soul pain, fear and no desired kisses…I keep trustul in human goodness…in despite of all…love remains…when all is falled, love remains…love is my daily bread, and writing is a way to stay with you…and somehow stay with my so lovely friends…friendship is the joy fragrance of love…mistery is not enigma…love is not mistery nor enigma, but the daily bread of help and joy to keep on trusful, heart plenty of courage…to face anything…to face futures, and days gonne bay, and an invitation…sweet invitation, to stand in the present…pleasing the present time…somehow some tiny and slow forgetness of past…to forget is not to delete…we are not machines…we are just co writers of our own story and histories…and read them together…for create other lullabies…I share my deep loving sentiments to all people…people is the world…and a lovely world is a welcome build, reinvention and depp will and hard daily work…love ahead…we must keep on going…or, I want to keep on going trustful in goodnes in the world…my choice is be trustful in human goodness…standing in the need of prayer

I’m just a writer: hello world

world is not only a word…what can I do with words?…write…as a writer I have nothing to say, so, I write…and read…I am also a reader…I love to talk lively conversations, long dialogues, even with few words…and as a writer’s commentary, those who read my writings, just read them…i don’t know what I write…nor I understand my literature…art is not for reasoning…for understanding, but for touching the human goodness…sometimes I guess about beginning another blog…I named it ‘Literature Compass’, but I’ll not do this…although I write and read literary issues and books and magazines and journals, I founded here a home…to share goodness…my writings are just to be read…sensed somehow, but no reasoning…it’s no a matter of opinion, but enjoyment…it’s  not a matter of agreements or not…I am not writing opinions, I hope…I am not writing about writing…I’m not writing about you…I am writing for you, reader…from me…it’s someway my life writing…well, I write at other places literary issues…not here…here is a home, a lovely home…I am not strictly a blogger, but a writer, even though, I acknowledge blogging as a new contemporary tool for writing…literature must be near all people…literature must reach all people…books must be near hand and souls…e books are good tools…although I love to touch a book, sense its perfum…sense its presence…and as the editor of my blog, I delete literary comments…I must be not always right…what is to be right in art practice?, what is to be right in literature task?…some awards?…not for me…I don’t like competition…and when I see an unwritten page…or a blanck digital screen, I feel not a challenge…the challenge somehow is just begin to write the first words…and phrases…I feel an opportunity to share literature…uppermost, to share lovely words and sentiments with you…this is not a no-reply message, but an invitation the listen the songs in fiction writing…fiction, that old lullaby…to support unkind news and facts…to keep on going the longing love road…so, this is a home…you are welcome…to share love…art is a lovely labour, a lovely work, for a better living…a lovely daily living…this blog is a home…of art…of lovely people…and so lovely friends!…I steadly keep my loving road…with you, because without you, why do i should write?…I am not a winner prize, an awarded writer…and I will not…I don’t want any thing, but lovely share of lovely art…the amount of spam is the amount of misreading, and no reading…the point is…there’s no pint, but an opportunity to listen other writers and artists…common people, true artists, if good will and work…I keep trustful in human goodness…no matter the opinon…life writing makes matter…write too, and publish…its a home…at nowadays, writers work is hard, although less painful to publish…if internet is good for art, it’s good for lovely living…if not, I use the internet merely as a tool, for my old fashion writing…although media change text, the writing literature is free…after internet, before internet…I’m not modern, but this is near a literary comment…I write romance…slowly…and fast…fiction…I sense i am also a dreamer…dreaming writings to you, from me…for me too…I am my main obstacle, and my main root…this is a home…back to home…back up all of us…to stay alive in…and enjoy any moment…art is love expression, just enjoy, its so much love for so many blue and joyous tears…less thinking…less understanding…much love

lovely and amazing dawn

‘and so, the party at streets is still going on…the full moon down, the sun sets up in the horizon…a fairy night…her invitation to dance and celebrate the joy of living…it’s the only motif at the streets, such a joyous celebration…even sadness can dance…to be not sad some time…somewhere…sometime…at streets…a lovely togetherness…a true party…some rest…some pause…some silence…listening the songs still…we fall asleep…at sundown…round midnight…our day just begun…some another dawn…when moon arrives…lovers endless dancing…dancing through the night…she is so lovely…and invited also the stars…a silvery lighting…loving surrounding…two dawns…two wings…loving like lovers do…we keep dancing…dreaming through the life…day dreamers…dream at days…dream at nights…ringing loudly…such many joys!…drums louder…a soft melody…my heart beats…as the drummer…you sing…as the voice…we go on…all through the days and nights…the bells toll…our heart harmony…talking to the sun…talking to the moon…the drums beat…up beating…our lovely path…good dawns…just near fairy tales…as the story…the lyrics tell…the bells toll at sky steepels, awakening sleeping dawns…love glowing…love blowing…like gonna blow the drums away…like never blows before…at dawns’

a good night

‘so, feel trustful…so tender lovely woman…so dear!… sleep…it’s a quiet night…dream wonderfully, and closer…I care of you…you care of me…I sing this soothing almost lullaby…I feel so happy!…dear beloved strong woman!…sleep…we are not alone…soothing fall this song of mine…stronger is our trust…loving care  around…so tender night…we are not alone…a thy light…a sweet voice…not so steadly calling…it’s my voice…it’s our voice…sending out…all  loveliness…tonight…I love you…and you love me…tonight is a good night…it’s all right…and soon in the morning …when sun sets near…we keep on going…our lovely path…till another good night…love is ahead…such amazing grace…a good night…a party at sky…stars shynning…so good…soon, moon sets near… another good  night’

body and soul

I found it!…my ‘new blue book of favorite songs’, so old book, it has not an isbn number…from long, long time ago printed…this book is now upon my old acoustic piano…two objects, but when I open this book I read so sweet and beautiful songs…lyrics, written melody and harmony, arrangement…these five lines and countless points in the pentagram…the musical phrases…the musical text…some fine blend…when I open and read that book, and I start some piano playing…the sounds sounds as music…and today it was interpretation…some old titles…some old music…my fingers touch the keys respecting the partiture…the left bass hand, the right melodic hand…and what inahbits the book…and what inhabits the piano…my hands moving…music I can listen…the music is not in the book nor in the piano…if I do not open both of them…if I don’t play the book songs at the piano with my fingers and hands and heart…no music…almost solely silence…where is the music?…in the book or in the piano or in my hands?…music is within us

walking on the streets

I don’t walk on the streets nowadays…I don’t feel me comfortable…I feel fear…I walked on the streets two decades before…some glamour I sensed in the air…some tiny loveliness I felt in the air, decades before…I travel less than I like…I don’t feel enjoyment in travelling…at summertime I walk along the beach…near the sea…close to the ocean…at sundown…perhaps a shopping center I feel as a small city, and i do walk some how…I love sensing people, children playing, families playing…at summertime, I walk at sundown…during the day I dicovered a good resort: the small public library…I feel silence, peace and can do some talk with the books…and the authors of the books…Paris on my mind is not the real Paris nowadays…even the beach on my mind, the beach when i played near the sea in my childhood, is not that beach nowadays…it’s not only the existence or not of glamour…some kind of amour…some form of amor…love…and where I live there’s a party at streets…carnaval…music, dance, celebration…I like to dance on the streets in a true party, but I don’t like to walk on the streets…I walk near the sea…and today the full moon is pregnant of news…she invited me for the party…she says to me ‘this is our home, sure?’…and so, tonight is gonna be a good night…every night can be a good night…the party is inside me…and you

I am not modern

although modern is a polifonic word, I’m not modern…i don’t like modern cities, modern automobiles, modern pianos, modern cafés, modern streets, modern builts, modernwayofliving, and so on, but I appreciate so much the contemporary opportunity regarding choices and the reinvention and rebuilding of a better world for all people…the modern and the contemporary are not the same issue…I guess as a non sense to talk abou post modernity, because, in fact, there’s never existed modernity, but some new ways to do old things, human things…walking on the streets in moderns cities is radically different from one century behind…I aknowledge all human civilizatory process, especially the treatment and prevention of some diseases, more especially the body pain relief remedies, perhaps the main human effort…perhaps soul pain remains as always was…facing soul pain nowadays, however,  remains hard labour, but some really new ways, I mean, contemporary ways, to deal with soul pain is a so joyous mark of civilization and, utmost, human goodness…that are still underestimated…blogging is a way…to make…my blue…a blues trial…to mention one example…some new steps against non sense and soul pain are inhabited with so newness that can not still be noticed, and even more, used…as some utilitarian sources for a closer to a joyous and lovely daily living…people shall and must live better, beyond body comfort, so important…in direction to some new ways of living when the soul can fly free and create new brand days of share our home…this is our home…this is our responsibility…this is my daily effort…to write some phrases…searching for us…this writing is not a manifesto, but I read like one…i never forget I am just a writer, a fiction writer, a romancist, but fiction – the old lullabies – do exist to support unkind realities…literature and art is a limit that present boundaries in between hunger and appetite…frontiers from deep wounds and woes…presenting joy and enjoyment by just staying alive in, do a work, play funny, care of the life of people…the life…the world…the world, is not a word, but very most, wonderful realities…rockin’ and rolllin’ the real, so do creating amazing realities…now I watch meditative at my hearth…at summertime, a hearth for my heart…I am not modern and this writing is not a manifesto, or may be…

my two eletric pianos

yesteraday, after work, I sit down in front of my old acoustic piano…and put two candles at the places constructed for that purpose: play at candle light…so, I turn on the candles and opened the dashboard…stay quiet for a while…and softly touched some keys…randomly…some improvised melody comes up…I wrote some phrases at the pentagram…some points…and continued quiet…trying to listen the silence…and taking a long and loving glance across candlelight…I saw the full moon…coming up from horizon…I felt myself somewhere in time…the phrase seems to be ‘longing to the love lasting forever’…so, I closed the dashboard…and keep inside the candlelighting sweet music…some perfect moments that wear my heart…some talking with the moon…some sharing loveliness with you…across the candlelight…a sparkling and fairy night…some rain drops at windows…some tears drops in my soul

scrawling at my scrap book

back to the beach…someway the best resort for me at summertime…I can stay near the sea, near the ocean, near days gone by…reveries…some futures…after a short walk near sundown…I sit at a bistrot…and stand doing nothing…after some hours and cups of coffee, water and one, only one, icecream… strawberry and vanilla..some fruits…I decided it was my dinner…so, I keep doing nothing…do nothing is impossible in my experience…i think, i imagine, i dream, i sing, i watch the point where ocean and sky meet each other, i meditate, i contemplate, i write some sketchs, i write some scrawls, i feel some blue, i feel much happiness, i notice i am in touch with yesterday, and tomorrow, and today, i read, and at my little scrapbook that I get with me at this day, i put some news, images, some leaves I get from the floor of streets…some falled petals of flowers I get from the streets floor…and scrawling randomly I draw a house, a tree near house, a path, a green gound, a sun at one side, a full moon at other side of the tree…and closed the book..and keep doing nothing…I spent the day at the only library in that beach…moments of some silence, rest, peace…at this little public library I found the book my mother grandfather wrote entitled ‘Night of kings’, dated form 1935…a romance…I begin re re re reading some pages when the librarian kindly informs to me that it’s was the time to close the library…I told her how good was stay at this library…my secret resort, I said…she smiled and her expression was sincere…so, I came back to the café near sea and keep reading my scrawlings…and added to my scrap book the new address card of that library…still not offering  e books…and at the card the site address…not online she told me…I said ‘ so good!, good night, I’ll come back another day at sunny time…and also in other seasons’…she said ‘ you are welcome’…I added to my draw… the librarian, that person who cares of the books