Now I can hide.

The beast coming

will never find me

in this dark cave.

I must now go deeper into it.

Humidity grows

and light is each step dimmer.

Frogs croak, wings fly above…

Darkness seems to play with my eyes

I try to rely on my other senses

It’s when my stomach remembers me

I still have to eat something for the day

My sight’s attempt to adapt to the dark

is as ineffective as a wolf

trying to prey on something by itself

I think I see a-void between the rocky walls

Was that the hemline of someone’s clothes

walking towards what seems to be

an endless, inner part of the cave?

I guess I might have heard steps,

although I did not give it to much of importance

when I only thought I heard it with the left ear

Maybe the noisy silence of this place

is also messing with my head…

I feel scared.

Who is this stranger that hides in there?

I cannot go back now.

It would be too risky.

The shadows are now my best companion,

but am I really safe as I’m surrounded by it?

I press my fingers

against the certainty of Godly-placed rocks

as I decide to go further.

From the ceiling there is a thin waterfall.

I hear the sound of it with my left ear…

but behind this waterfall there is this figure.

It’s a man the same age and height as me.

He contorts himself against the wall, terrified.

The look in his eyes is of complete horror.

I hear a high pitch sound with my right ear.

What the heck is it that is wrong with me?

His breathing is fast.

As I approach the waterfall, I see a reflex on it.

Its nails are huge

and fur covers its body.

There is bloodlust in its eyes

And rage in its clenched canines.

I try to run from it also moving away

into the veils of water falling

from above

only to be hit by a rock

the man was secretly holding.

It hits my left cheek.

I feel as if claws had sliced my right cheek, though.

I can’t dodge his ongoing attacks.

As the rock hits my head I grow dizzier and dizzier,

And feel like vomiting.

I have no more strength to say anything;

not even move…

The only sound I can produce

is a dying growl.

As life comes out of me,

my eyes finally adapt to the dark.

I realize there is only one person here.

Now it’s too late to try to solve

the trichotomy in me.

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

to the wind

wishing it would be led

to wherever my beloved one

might be

It was first carried

by a tender breeze

having it slowly pass trees

and gently caress flowers

Being led to a more open field,

my kiss was lifted high

traveling through clouds,

overseeing castles and ordinary life

My kiss seemed to have no direction

when it was taken somewhere above the see.

Air currents fought for the present I’ve sent

taking it up and down the edge of cliffs,

its walls and its steadiness.

From then on I could not trace my kiss anymore.

The last thing I knew it had gained the sky

and if it does not reach its destination above it,

may at least the wind take parts of it

to every breathing lung there might be

wherever it is

that the wind can reach

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

I feel peace

and all the stimuli instinct makes flourish in me

are not enough to make me feel dizzy

when I look down this tower

At this time, people are asleep

I’m left here with my thoughts and destiny,

but I’m glad to know

this has been my own choice

My ultimate freedom is as close

as a step taken

deep into the dark

broken by dancing lights

here and there

I hear a whistle

It’s maybe a bird trying

to teach me something

but I’m tired of having to learn

useless things

Go away, bird!

Wait for me to conquer my freedom

Then you can come to me

I won’t complain

The sound of your flight disturbs me

and makes me think of quitting this enterprise,

but I’m not screaming to a bog

like you invite me to

I’m opening my arms

- don’t tell –

I’m diving into nowhere

- don’t tell –

I ask you, bird,

- don’t tell –

make me disappear

I don’t owe information

about my own acts

to the other frogs

- don’t tell –

- don’t tell –

- don’t…

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

She dresses up

with joy and expectancy

As she leaves her house

towards the sinuous

and mysterious,

narrow path,

entering the dense woods,

she lifts the edge of her dress

in order not to soil it

allowing her ankle to be seen

An only glance is able

to twist the head

of an imaginative young man

who is as anxious as her own

He leaves his house

Desire pouring out

of his skin

Will she be waiting for him

in the same place as yesterday?

As he approaches the location

a familiar hand comes from the left

between some vegetation

and pulls the base of his head

He falls hard

above a female’s body;

a body he knew very well

and could only touch,

and press,

as his heart beat quickened

due to the hot kisses they shared

Time, then, starts its playful games

distorting its own passing

The ground seems each time (?) damper

The air seems as humid as the leaves

they now lay above

It is difficult for them to refrain

from moaning their love aloud

even though there might be

daily morning walkers

passing by

As time comes,

it comes with satisfaction

and whispers of love

to one another

They pick up their Victorian clothes

unfortunately dressing them up again

They shouldn’t be seen together

so they decide to see each other again

the next week

for precaution

If only they could keep their promise

they wouldn’t be here today

for they combined the same thing

a day before

Tomorrow, probably,

two young people

will be out in the woods again

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

The night is dark

and the moon is dim

Imposing walls

hide the fear of villains

behind frugality

of safeness

The cold wind against my flesh

tells me every step of mine

on this street of shaped stones

takes me further into the night

in this hour that seems to be

the darkest one of the day;

a day that has begun

some few hours ago

As I approach the place

I intend to visit

and climb the steep stairway

that leads to it

I cannot help wondering

how deceiving it is to look at this house

that seems quite the same as the others,

but donates its space

to every sort of hidden activities

and desires

…

I came to have mine

And as I move to open the door

I hear a quick, high-pitch whistle

that seems to come from above me,

maybe from an observer in the roof

I push the door open,

and although I intended to do it silently,

The rusty hinges denounce my presence

Now I stand before its eyes

that are the only thing reflecting

the fire in the lampion

that is clearly extinguishing

unlike the look I’m given

whose fire is so vivid

and inviting

and deep

and bottomless

The tiny being

with fire in its eyes

gives me a flask

with a red liquid on it

‘Is this the elixir of happiness

– I ask –

The one that will bring the smile

to my boring face again?’

‘It sure is’ – it answers

I take a sip

and another

but it seems nothing is changed;

I feel no peace at all,

My rigid face muscles don’t move,

and the seconds and minutes that pass,

very slowly,

I still feel like ignoring

It doesn’t say a word

as my knees fold

Now I know the fire I saw

in the lampion

was a reflecting on the glass

of the light coming from its eyes

My own eyes become heavy

the same moment I hear its voice

‘This is the only elixir

I charge nobody for.

You may now find your happiness

where it is possible to be found.

Rest in peace, human.

If you couldn’t find happiness by other means

you understood the ultimate way to finish your quest

The decision to take the elixir was long taken,

and the first drop of it you made it yourself’.

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

is a person filled

with inner conflicts

that determine

who they really are

Therefore, what they are,

really,

is people who lack

their self-image

lost in the roles they play

At times they are Joes,

but they’ve got the Jones at other times

That’s why I live

still wishing to escape

the walls of organic mass

that keep me trapped

into whoever is myself

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

but the only thing I have is time

All the rest is

dark

humid

bottomless

Space is considerable

but this is not where I wanted to be

All the rest is

an

eternal

minute

cords                                                   are                                                   tight

tie                                                      these                                                 bones

my                                                      people                                               suffer

hands                                                  on                                                     flesh

to                                                       their                                                  feed

wood                                                  own ground?                                       araras

…                                                        …                                                      …

bruised                                               population                                          out

wrists and                                           back                                                   of

ankles                                                to                                                      sight

pulled                                                state of                                          politicians

by                                                     painful                                                 lie

gravity                                               survival                                               death

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

My thankful soul

will always appreciate

the promise of a shared love life

that is bound to timelessness

(a few days ago, I called you my husband

A few days ago, you called me your wife)

In my wombs

there is life;

In my head

there are colorful dreams;

In my lungs

there is air I release

as a vivid love whisper

that mingles to my nectar tasting passion

sweetening your lips,

quickening your heartbeats,

feeding me with expectancy

of heated kisses at night

and playful touches I awaited all day

This day I spent wanting

to finally run to your arms

as you pushed the door opened;

and as this day finishes

I thank God for having you lying beside me

and for another day yet to come

You, darling, mean the Moon to me;

you are the high tide forcing my shore

you are the low tide inviting me in

only to submerge me

in breathtaking waves of delightfulness

And, darling, I want to mean the Earth to you;

I want my trees to bare fruits,

my rivers to refresh your body,

my soil to be the stand of our home

and the place where our children will play

My thankful soul

will always appreciate

the promise of a shared love life

that is bound to timelessness

But for now, I decide to stop thinking this much

and accept the invitation of your arms

calling me to the coziness of our bed

and the beginning of a well-lived life

with you

By José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

but humans pretend not to see it

It surrounds us

and it can be seen

even behind the fragile walls

civilization builds

in order to give meaning

to this complete madness

Every passing second

chaos extracts the essence of life

using a tool called randomness

on the hypocritical unaware people

passing next to those artificial walls

Chaos is present

in the process of building

the next unit of measuring time

It greets us everyday

with the possibility of accident

by every sort of means

If we try to perceive it

maybe we will be able to see its shadow

if we look back

from above our shoulders

turning our heads

when we sense

its powerful presence

If you had any chance to stand against it I would say “beware”

but the only thing

I

can say to you

is to be prepared

and organize your miserable life

before it gets you

Do it only if you have beloved ones, though

Otherwise, just live every second as a gift

because, organized or not,

it won’t make any difference after you are gone to your complete oblivion

Vanity of vanities

Our attempts of living are destined to fail

Vanity of vanities

That’s what all things are before chaos

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro

Next to my house

2 years ago

Tragedy

A person dies

Shot

Cephalic mass

on the floor

The same corner

Next to my house

2 years ago

20 minutes later, though

A truck and red lights all over

People from vicinity gathered

Cephalic mass being washed away

by one of them

The corner next to my house

2 years ago, 30 minutes later

Underneath the street

In a manhole

The rests of a mind continue its fate

Now gathering the insects society despises

And one of these insects that same day

would crawl up the pipes that connect the manhole to my house

A corner

Next to my house

Today

Kids playing

Some are laid down as they play

Meanwhile,

I’m here throwing my own mind

in a manhole

by José Ruy Pimentel de Castro