Last in the past

Hello, it's been a long time since I wrote a text here. I am the alter ego of the author of this blog, for those who are into literature are well aware of what I am saying. Far from this laceration of soul, which composed the most part of this blog, I would like to say a few words about the past.

The past doesn't belong to me to change anymore, and I feel sorry for a lot of vile things I did, and the innocents I caused pain. However, I tried to apologize before, and it's not the subject of this writing.

I didn't know the power of the words yesterday. These days I know the power of silence. Everybody needs silence from time to time, and when we travel to the past we find a vacuum of the atmosphere, and the dampness of the air: collapses into one single fragment of despair:

My preterit haunts me day and night. I cannot simply say "sorry" for the things I did. I have to pay, and I have to pay it good. 

Well, I guess I am paying. But we have no time to waste with sorrowful impressions of ego and soul. Because of my ego I ruined my love, ruined my career and everybody hates me. I deserve, and I tell you why right away: I never knew how to love back in those days. I didn't know I could not ever ignore the flowers or the spring. The life showed me the way. Nevertheless, I'll try to be more objective in this brief narrative. 

The remembrance of my former deeds of cruelty disgusts me. Today, I am aware of the meaning of love. Just like the criminal who has been through prison and now repents his crimes. I wasn't in jail, but I been through a lot of situations because my ego was to big to see how pervert and idiot I was. 

Don't feel sorry for me, that's not what I expect of a clever reader, I expect you to look at me and don't do the same mistake.
But I forgot why I started talking about me, and now I realized it's the ego itself who wants to dominate and takes its place. But I will not destroy the beauty of my life forever because of my ego, and so on, I will quit talking about it. The past is the prior matter. 

By the past I judge the present, and by the present I know I was never loved by any woman. Except one. Which I tried to hurt with words and tried so hard until I realize I was just showing the monstrosity of my own ego and person. 

It is because, I blush to say one word, but I confess, finally, I didn't know how much she loved me. Today I know and it's too late for everything. Actually she never loved me. The contradiction will be solved next. What I am trying to say with the words whose origin comes from my heart and soul themselves, is that the woman I love respected me as no other person has ever done.

She was very attentive: She listened to the things I have to say no matter how crazy or puerile the words coming out of my mouth. She did listen and share everything with joy, because she didn't love me. 

She used to cook for me. Oh my god! Why? Why I am so stupid? Why did I treat wrong the only woman who ever loved me? I was jealous, sexist, stupid, and even mistreat her because of my madness. She used to do a very good pasta with courgette, screw macaroni and bacon! Oh my God how delicious a food made for someone who loves you can be? I cannot describe in words. It would offend my platonic love abilities of cooking. 

I don't know if she liked to watch so many alternatives movies, but she held my hand while we were watching, and was always most interested in the matter of the movie and discussed with passion the scenes: German, French, Brazilian, American, we saw a lot of movies together and I never imagined by that time this was paradise on earth, it was priceless!

She never liked video games but she played with me with passion sometimes! Do you see, sometimes you are stupid enough not to realize that the person you idealize is by your side. I didn't see it by the time. 

She was and is the prettiest and cutest girl of all. I never saw or met someone with that kindness. Her touch was soft and pure, her voice was like an angel speaking to me, her smile the open paradise, her blazing and astonishing kiss, her friendly and human hug when she realized I was sad. I can say with proud that a woman gave me a meaning for my meaningless life. If it wasn't her, I would already committed suicide. But I don't ever want to leave those good things she did for me.

The woman I love, my platonic dear, was the only one who went into literature with me. She devours books and I like to devour them today. I know she has all the right to hate me whenever she wants, but the good things we do in life are eternal. Right now I am smiling when I should be crying. Like I said I don't want my ego corrupting the purity of this text and start complaining about the things I suffered and still suffer in life, it doesn't matter if I am living on the streets as a beggar or as a small thug, what really matter is that this woman loved me to the bones! Yes, I'll die laughing because of it. 

Sometimes I wished to talk with her of my readings: Garcia Marquez, Cervantes, Dostoevsky, Goethe, Dante, and the things I am sure she reads. 

She loves to read and I have this passion, so I tried to talk to her, when I was not disturbed by my madness of soul, about my simple impressions of the readings of great books, because during our relationship we did read thousands of books and talked passionately about them. 

She never done anything to hurt me, and I did terrible things to this blessed woman. Yes, reader I know I am idiot, thank you, I am trying to be a better person. 

Beautiful people. You live in the same world as I do..But somehow I never noticed you before today, I am ashamed to say. Beautiful people we share the same backdoor, it isn't right, we never met before today. 

She is a rock 'n roll woman. We used to listen to classic albums as Deep Purple, Guess Who, Led Zeppelin, you name it. I am writing this my dear and love of my life because you deserve to be free. It is not because I am slave that I mean to enslave you. I want you free, happy and making someone in the world very happy by now. Anyone, anytime who is in your company is a happy one. 

Yesterday I was lying trough my teeth when I said I wanted you happy, my dear kid. I was selfish beyond limits, not knowing ever what is love. I don't claim to know what love is today. 

Back to the street were we began, into a place were thoughts can bloom, cause it's nine in the afternoon, your eyes are the size of moon...It was a good time, the happiest time of my life.

I was never happier before or after I met this woman. Believe when I say I treat her very bad. 

I am telling this because someday, somehow you might love someone and then, when you lose the person it would be too late for crying over the things you did. Look into your husband's eyes, your wife's eyes everyday and tell her with your heart in your hand that you love her, that she is special, that she deserves the best, even if the best is not being with you, or in this case me.

I am writing for men, women, kids, whatever anyone who has already experienced to love someone, and it's the only experience that makes life have a sense. 

I'm listening to Metallica and the song "Battery" has a very special place in my bosom. It was the longest kiss I ever gave to anyone. I never kissed any woman for more than thirty minutes. But I don't know when you feel her lips are honey and the heart beat seems like an explosion.

I was talking about the digression of the past. Yesterday is love. Sweet child in time. I was saying that she never loved me, thank God, because I met a lot people that I don't wanna talk about for the sake of the positivy of this digressive monologue. 

Yes, the woman I utterly loved, heart and soul, never loved me and I thank God for it, because she gave something bigger than love, she respected me as no one else. She had a patience of a Goddess with me. I am not an easy person, don't judge by these few words I wrote behind.

A man cannot be cruel to a woman and get out free. Not yesterday, not today, not ever. Sorry kid, for I did hurt your heart for no reason besides of my madness and sexism. 

I don't want you so bad, as The Beatles song claims, this is pure consumerist fetish, trash people sold on television to convince those who are weak. I want you to be glad, laughing, learning, traveling the world, kissing, marrying, whatever, I wish you all the best, love of my life, because you deserve.

I will never forget you because you mean something to me. I will never interfere with your choices be certain of it. Is that I had a dream yesterday about you and it was special. Maybe somebody else read this text and decides to give flowers to the one it loves. Or chocolates. Or even hugs or kisses to demonstrate how much we care for the person. Go on! Show the person you love you care for her, like I care for this kid I loved and I shall never see it again, for her own good. 

Thank you. I heard about your father's death and I give you my condolences my dear, because above all, you are a strong woman as I would never be. The history keep telling us lies, that man are strong and woman weak, it's exactly the contrary. Because I was weak I could not bear my proud and not contain my feelings of jealous and so, I behave as a moron sexist. 

You are strong because you know how to be happy. You don't feel sorry for yesterday like me, and this is the way you should always be: smiling to the world, because you are a warrior and there's no one like you in this planet. Sorry about your father, the old man was always kind to me. Sorry for you as well because my offenses are irretrievable. 

I am grateful today because my memory does not betray me. You are a good kid, love. Not my love, the love of anyone you want to give it. Be happy my dear, maybe I'll never write here again, and I wished to make one thing right in my life before I gave up. Thank you. I love your eyes when the sun reflects on them. 

Life can be beautiful and should me. 

Bye. 

Carlos Henrique Barbosa- The last in the past  

I

A gesture

During the lost post of a drunkard night
The cost of fight, the plea of night!
Shut up! Assuming the lamps of futile struggle
With a dull skull of a deaden line.
Right as white isn't a color
Bright snow-white, pestilent breath of life!

Nightingale sings alone over the branch.
Three bones of diamond shining over all.
Overall there is an atmosphere of lethargy
When she first song a dead song
For nobody. No more. And went home alone, step by step
Fearing that animal which is man
Thinking about an escape and anxious wrath.
Never to be alone.

The train is full os scream and torn clothes. The driver drinks a bottle of water.
Brief period of poetry, the tear in the child's eye.
I am not a human born up to war, he said to his lovely friend
The words have no meaning, the explosion wasn't heard from there.
Anyone listening?
Hello?

...

Powerless and a full of sound engine of awe
Give the last past of a conscious day,
A bottle of wine, cigarettes, smoke,
It is nothin' but a joke!
Laugh until the ultimate passenger goes by
Fly tender to the realm of good-bye.
Motherless child.
Endless life.
Yes or no the words are buried in a crystal palace.
There hung upon the wall the figures of our ancestors
Criminals.
Thugs.
Assassins.
Poets.
Writers.
Painters.
And so on

I will see those never more. Ants crumbling lead-off reverie.
Blind into naked alleys, burning throuh shades of disdain.
Vomit a bunch of blood close to the avenue
Not a sould around the corner offered a pure bosom of kindness
Bless. Bless...
Blessed are those whose hearts are wooden solid mechanism
The flowers got anything desirable to comprehend.
Only water, grass, dirty sun

The lives of citizens evolve. A token of good will
A gesture of repetition. The truth in the kid's eyes and laugh
It pass like fury, like time, like manure and hatred kind.
Inside the new clothes, new brand smiles
A new form of shaking hands, of hugging
A kiss full of emptiness
Fulfill missing members of our bodies
Traveling minds
The lovers say good bye to never see each other again
They must produce products for their fathers.

Eat. Drink. Die. Life is good if not short
He realized "I am product to oneself."
A tempest falls over his head. A cricket made a chirp outside.
Produce or die?
Politeness is safe, where is the cab?

My mother is dead but I have the new technology I seeked for
More of the same, same shame anymore.
Lions raw. A cub eating its prey.
I told you to shut up.
To have or not to have
Is not an option
Option

C. H. Barbosa - A gesture