human rights

Coffee (or tea)


This time, an imaginary delight.

Wishful thinking of a petit comité

of huge proportions

Important beautiful characters

Human, powerful, 

Intelligent, historical

Sitting together

Having tea (or coffe)

and cake on an idle late afternoon.
Time doesn’t need to exist

In art.
We can make it timeless

and promote epical meetings

of extreme tenderness

and powerful ideas.

Words, colors and stories

that validate existences

justify legacies

understand dreams 

allow differences

encourage poetry

permit beauty

Offer truth.

We don’t ask for much

but we want everything;

We deserve way more 

than everything we’ve gotten so far

and we wait for no one 

to give it to us.

We are the first, second 

And all of the possible sexes

We wear black, pink 

Scarves and flowers

blue or nothing

and we walk 

with dignity

and integrity

More than anyone

that ever walked 

before us.

We fight for justice and ideals

We demand voice and place

we cherish equality and opportunity

we search for meaning.

We are the pain, the power

and the peace 

that gives life a chance.

We sit together, just because we can.

Just because art brings us all together.

In art all is possible, even the simplest things

as coffee (or tea) and cake

on an idle late afternoon.

Luciana Mariano (c) 2020
Artwork: Frida and Angela having tea (or coffee) at Simone’s place.

AVAILABLE

The daily battle


She looked frail and delicate but inside she had the strength of ten tsunamis.

She could die a million times but her voice would still be heard though out time. 

Making her enemies shiver, her tyrants stumble.

Nothing she could do would ever be enough.

Nothing is enough in a world like this.

She was tired that day, but she picked flowers on the way home.

Battle was not over, there was a war to be won.

It was she and herself. And the mirror.

Flowers and swords.

No fear, no anxiety.

Just another day to give all she got.

And she did.

*****

Ela parecia frágil e delicada, mas por dentro ela tinha a força de dez tsunamis.

Ela poderia morrer um milhão de vezes, mas sua voz ainda seria ouvida embora fora do tempo.

Fazendo seus inimigos tremerem, seus tiranos tropeçarem.

Nada do que ela pudesse fazer seria suficiente.

Nada é suficiente em um mundo como este.

Ela estava cansada naquele dia, mas ela escolheu flores a caminho de casa.

A batalha não acabou, há uma guerra a ser vencida.

Era ela, contra ela mesma. E o espelho

Flores e espadas.

Sem medo, sem ansiedade.

Apenas mais um dia para dar tudo o que ela tinha.

E assim ela fez.