Do not take for granted
My capacity to love
I have seen evil and tyranny
And have tasted the bitter taste of indifference
But I overcame my pains and sores
And demanded my heart to heal
Even though my soul refused to understand.
I love, despite all efforts to make me hate.
As long as I remember
I have not been good to myself
I forgot how many times I ignored my needs
My feelings, my wishes, myself.
I have had a life full of priorities
And I was never one of them
A life in fear, a life in guilt
Sensations of everlasting emptiness
Sorrow without any apparent reason
Loneliness, sorrounded by people
No one, ever, really met me.
I live in doubt
I don’t trust
I don’t believe in relationships.
Yes, it’s much easier to pretend
It is easier to love the beautiful
Funnier to deal with good and nice.
I am not easy, beautiful, fun, good nor nice.
Deal with it. Or don’t. I don’t care.
Priority, from now on, is to do whatever I always did
But only regarding my own good and satisfacion
Enough of pleasing others
Enough of fitting in
I had it.
The spoilt child was never spoilt
She was scared and unsure
She was not a priority, even when she should have been.
Then, in order to get some attention
i gave it all to eveybody else
Except to myself.
That was my mistake among others
My unaware miss-use of priority.
Awareness is not an easy thing to reach
But priority is mandatory if you want it.
Do not take for granted
My need for expression
My voice was taken away too many times
My eyes were shut down when I craved most to see
But then I listened to the wind and felt the grass beneath my feet
I saw and sensed colours that spoke so loud and clear
That I understood it all and came to peace
Words can be empty and action is often over rated
My heart and soul can say much more
Through brushes and paint
Than through struggle and tears.
……………………………
Não subestime
Minha necessidade de expessão
Minha voz me foi tirada por muitas vezes
Meus olhos foram fechados quando eu mais precisei ver
Mas ai eu ouvi o vento e senti a grama sob meus pés
Eu vi e senti cores que falavam tão alto e claro
Que eu finalmente entendi e senti paz
Palavras podem ser vazias e ação é geralmente desnecessária
Meu coração e minha alma podem dizer muito mais
Através de pincel e tinta
Do que por força e lágrimas.
……..
PS: forgive my poor english/ perdoem a tradução pobre
O silencio, as vezes
Permite aos olhos falar
O silencio, quase sempre
Permite a alma descansar em paz.
…………………
Silence, some times
Allows the eyes to speak
Silence, most of times
Allows the soul to rest in peace.
I miss a moment never lived
I want a person I never met
I crave for a feeling I never felt
I long for a life I never had
Time storms in
And gelid drops of tears
Are flooding my house.
I am quietly drowning
I see my senseless
Pale and lifeless
Hands
At the botton of the ocean
And I do not bother.
No rescue is required
There’s nothing else
To be done
To be said
Silence suits the occasion.
The home is empty
Fresh dust settles in
Brought by the lonely wind.
No one cares.
Soon it all will be over
Life goes on
There’s no looking back,
No regrets
Nothing to be remembered
Said
Felt
Or done.
Too much said-felt-done
Never granted me peace
Therefor I doubt
any good intentions.
As a matter of a fact
They are all fake
Pointless
Selfish
Breathing is making me tired
I will rest now
over a deep blue quilt
under a faded and gentle veil
Of thoughtlessness
Until I wake up
Of this numbness living
And start dreaming again.
Registers from the unveiling.
Seneca Wall is up!
If you see it, tell me!
🙂
These are the pictures I made while painting my part of the Seneca Wall Project.
It took me one whole month to finish the work and it was great fun to do!
Some say it’s the largest collective art work mural in Europe (175 meters long).
Today, (july, 18th) is the final unveilling of the wall.
If you are taking a ride towards Wembley Arena, by Metropolitan or Jubilee tube lines, you may pay attention to this mural, on your left side… Just before arriving at the Wembley Park or Wembley Central Station.
I am already in Brazil, so, if you can, tell me about your impressions of it.
It will be great to hear what your thoughts about my work and the mural are!
Enjoy it!
Mural em Wembley – Inglaterra
O Louco
Vivemos confinados no viver. Compramos carros rápidos mas agonizamos no trânsito caótico das cidades. Temos pressa mas não sabemos direito para onde ir. Ouvimos falando e fazemos pensando. Amamos mas desconhecemos nosso espelho.
O bobo busca, e mantém um olhar inocente sobre o percurso. Desconhece os riscos, flerta com a sorte. Seu acaso o leva para terras distantes, desconhecidas e ele brinca com as possibilidades.
Vivemos fadados a morrer. E morremos, consentidamete, enquanto vivemos.
Mas sejamos jovens enquanto durar o nosso olhar. Sejamos livres enquanto existir a leveza, a beleza, a música. Dançamos, mas não sentimos o movimento. Devoramos o nada, engolimos o vazio e ainda assim nos lambuzamos, engasgamos na fartura do que não existe.
O bobo se enfeita, mas leva consigo somente o necessário. Apesar da longa jornada, há de carregar mais do que seus escassos e materiais pertences. Ele carrega a si mesmo, seus medos, o peso dos seus pensamentos. O cachorro, o alerta para a dor, mas não tem a intenção gratuita de ferir. Ele quer que o bobo se entregue e entenda o agora, preste atenção no tão-somente-este-instante, que tudo é. O passado é abismo, o futuro é ilusão e a viagem, esta obrigatória aventura, é uma fantasia, adereço colorido que brinca com o pó e com o vento. Acumula, envelhece, rasga, sem nada levar ou deixar.
The Fool
We live trapped in living. We buy fast cars and then agonize on chaotic traffic. We are always on a hurry and yet, we don’t know where to go. We speak while listening and we think while doing. We love, but we do not know our own mirrors.
The fool searches, and keeps a naive look at this path. He doesn’t know the risks, and flirts with his fate. Chance brings him to unknown, far away lands and he plays with the possibilities.
We lie, doomed to die. And we die, consentedly, while living.
But let’s keep ourselves young, as long as our curiosiity lasts. Let’s be free, as long as there s lightness, beauty and music. We dance, but we don’t feel the movement. E devour the nothingness, we swallow the emptiness and even so, we besmirch, we choke on the excess of what does not even exist.
The fool dresses up, but brings along only the absolutely necessary. On his long journey, he will carry much more than his few material belongings. He will carry himself, his fears, the heavy weight of his thoughts. The dog calls his attention towards the pain, it doesn’t intend to deliberately cause it or hurt him. It wants the fool to give himself in and fully understand the now, pay attention to the only-so-right-now that is all that there is. Past is an abyss, future is an illusion and the trip, this obligatory adventure, is only a fantasy, a colorful costume that plays with dust and wind. It accumulates, it ages, it gets ripped out and yet, it doesn’t bring or leave any traces behind.
luciana mariano 