Wednesday, January 10, 2018


You’re still here. The unassuming guest in my head. The stranger turned friend that broadened my mind. The wielder of curls the colour of fire, passion and warmth. The one I did not know existed but now rattles my thoughts. The keeper of time, time she can’t control, time that doesn’t stop. Not for me. Not for her. Never for us. All saints whisper the untold stories of tender moments and countless touches. I miss your reflection, not because it personifies my strengths but reminds me I’m human. Time, the ever present foe of careless fools and forbidden acts. 575 reasons yes. Day into night. Stranger into friend.


Holding onto nothing is far easier than letting go of something.

Sunday, January 31, 2016


I love the dark. Its deafening silence has a way of binding my lost and terrifying soul into a single chaotic source of earthly delight. I don’t fear the night. I feed off it like a famished anti-social creature. The light cripples my eyes and enhances all my flaws and scars – 31 years worth of successfully hidden secrets of lust and over – yet underachieved - dreams. I don’t fear life, nor its end. I fear not being remembered for the being I personify. I fear that others may see me as the prey and not the devastating predator I so meticulously conceived in my mind. I am the downward spiraling saboteur of my existence. The screenplay scribbler of my bittersweet plot. The undercover spy of fate. The spiritual proverbial anti-christ of temptation. I am the word shaper of denial and the shameful master of thought and indecent pleasure. I am the constant high of smokeless dawns and the drunk of boozless sighs. I am and I persist, the ticking time bomb of conquest and defeat. Fear isn’t the echo of failure and powerless conformity, it is the humble soundtrack of mankind’s endless search for the building blocks of time. Without fear I would not feel the sugar rush of excitement nor the liberation of risk. Fear makes me live like a careless infant. Fear runs through my veins and overflows my immunity. It keeps me alert and suspicious and cunning. Fear is the absence of light – the element that reveals my scars and transparent flaws.

I am the son of the dark and the raged offspring of mother fear.

Monday, April 08, 2013

Coin Flip

What’s the difference between a winner and a loser? As puzzling as it may seem, it’s probably a matter of support. Not the random kind your mother or a sympathetic aunt gives just to keep you hoping on something magical and inaccessible but the real meaningful words of affirmation cast in knowledge and rationality. Nothing is as mind-blocking as being motivated into something you’re not meant to do, something others envision you to become or even something you utterly believe you’re meant to achieve but aren’t. True wisdom comes from trusting in fate. As unoriginal as it may sound, if it’s meant to be there’s no phenom, freak of nature or mystical power that will keep you from reaching your goal. It's all a matter of time.

Thursday, February 04, 2010


I just woke up this morning with a heavy need to burst into tears. For no apparent reason, I feel lonelier than I have in quite a long time. Nothing’s really going wrong with my life at the moment, though. The job’s streaming in some decent income; I’ve been entangled with one of the most kind-hearted girls I’ve ever met, and life doesn’t seem to be half as bad as the bill made it out to be. Despite my presumably sane state of mind, I feel empty.
Maybe it’s to do with loving someone immensely, but being away from her for the good part of six months. It might also be the fact that my professional future is still undetermined, or maybe the fact that I’m just me.
Nevertheless, I feel really hateful today. I’d comfortably beat someone unconscious or talk them out of their own stupidity. I’d also jump off a building or push the trigger of any firearm in my direction. But I lack the guts to take the final step, the killing blow. For some reason, I still believe in living and the torture and heartbreak it brings. For some reason I still hope everything will turn out just fine, that love will endure and that that money will suffice.
I believe in you, the happiness you bring me, and I’ll try to forget the times you carelessly break my heart. I’ll do all this because I believe in something more, I believe in insanity, at least until I man up and dive to death.

Thursday, October 29, 2009


Walking through the township of my mortal soul
Dragging all the heartache that rendered me once whole
Shacks of beating rhythms and undying words
Surrendered in the hollow of your gentle verbs

Your silence in enriching but so far apart
My illness of occasion brings the need to start
If the greed of lust and glory conquers my domain
Then broken scraps of laughter must also remain

Time is being helpful in my last resort
Day to day I wither from your grave support
May I speak the words that dangle to my throat?
May I fill the blanks in your loving note?

Keep your heart adrift and I will follow through
Every single spotlight leads me right to you
Angel of my daydreams and my blazing star
Think of me in reason and I’ll never be too far

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Big Mouth

Do you ever get the feeling that you talk too much?
That everything you do keeps you out of touch
When you link it out first and you ponder it through
I’ll promise you now it won’t leave you in the blue

When you stare at that girl every second of every day
But you think it over and you don’t know what to say
You just dream of her and it’s so real that it hurts
Then why is it so hard to go right ahead and flirt

Oh I wish I had a big mouth, a cheap mouth, maybe that would work
I would blab it out, tare it out, I might just need a perk
All the the big mouths I know finally get the girl
But I’m a small mouth boy and I’m just left out in a twirl

I bought a guitar at a pawn shop, cost me half a buck
Almost gave up and threw up when they said that I suck
But I kept on playing like a loveless fool
Got me in and out of trouble, hardly ever went to school

I’ve got a gig now, a show now, and they all scream my name
But she’s not there, she’s not here, talk about a shame
I stress no longer ´cause I’m jamming all the place
Can’t believe that back in the day I was lost in outerspace

I might have a small mouth, a tight mouth but I’m still ok
I don’t talk, I don’t smile, nothing left to say
But now you’re here, right here, and that’s just how we’ll be
She’s a big mouth girl, who did the talking for me

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Alas, a bad day

It's official, I'm having one of those moody blues. As a matter of fact, I can't recall the last time I've been so... down. I’m not feeling suicidal or mad, or even violent, just depressed without no apparent reason or effect. I’m just going to keep on writing senselessly because experience has taught me that this is by far the best form of therapy. It’s been a long time since I’ve written on this blog and most of you have probably thought that I was either dead or missing. The biggest news is that I’m working and enjoying every second of it. I’m single and quite happy about it and the freedom that comes attached. I had forgotten how inspiring it is not to have to answer to your “soulmate” and carry on with countless fights and jelousy streaks. On the other hand, I miss the cuddling the ludacris words, the gestures and the plain pointlessness of one in love. In a line, I’m the most self-confident chap you’ll ever meet, however I still haven’t got a hang of how feelings work. I hate repeating myself and it’s something that I’ve regretably gotten accostumed to. This post is going nowhere and we all know it. It’s just been a tough morning, but rest assured, I won’t be ressurecting any alter-ego MALE VALUES sequel. Pardon my monologue and my depressing ways. Tomorrow might be a better day, but for now, sad times call for rainy weather. It’s a pity the sun is shining outside.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Missing That Missy

It starts out like any ordinary track
A daydream boy writing hard down on his back
But this no name boy had it filling up inside
Didn't spit it out 'cause they'd think that he had lied

Like any ordinary song there had to be a girl
Sweet as can be she had her hair up in a twirl
She smiles at him makes his roof shake off it's place
Clumsy as can be the boy was nothing but disgrace

He knew her for years but had never seen her smile
Just didn't see her like the way he did that night
Saying he doesn't miss her would be nothing but denial
Pretending not to care just didn't nearly seem that right

'Cause he's missing that missy, never thought that he would fall again
'Cause he's missing that missy, staring at her in that way
'Cause he's missing that missy, he's drowning inside, under the tide
'Cause he's missing that missy, and that missy is you

On that ordinary day he got the guts and walked right to her
Didn't know what to say though he knew it didn't matter
Stared her straight in the eyes, she smiled again, her halo lit
He didn't know what to say, he messed up again, his brain just split

But he said

'Cause I'm missing that missy, never thought that I would fall again
'Cause I'm missing that missy, staring at you in that way
'Cause I'm missing that missy, I'm drowning inside, under the tide
'Cause I'm missing that missy, and that missy is you


Your light is blinding and so is your flair
I try my best but I still have to stare
You struck me so, night straight to day
How can a friend be reborn in this way?

Friendship and love are crossroads apart
Romance like this reluctant to start
I feel something new and blissful in you
Enfatuation apart, should it be true?

If this path leads to you and the comfort you bring
I shall quench my thirst and my laughter to sing
Praise to the Phoenix, Afrodite of madness
Heal all my wounds and deliver me from sadness


Am I binding with your gentle grace
Or lingering on your grave embrace
Am I dreaming on while life goes by
Or fooling on another sweet lie

Is life this way for the fate of some
Or is my sorrow a taste of to come
Is love a curse I must endure
Or a relieving omen I must secure

For to feel a man in vain must face
Another ache of the mind one cannot trace
Emotion dead and out of sight
Love no more I say out of spite

Friday, January 02, 2009

The New Year has just arrived and with it comes innovation.

Soon I'll be creating my DIGIFOLIO, where you can see what I've been up to instead of writing!

I hope you all enjoy it, and above all, spread the news!


Thursday, January 11, 2007

Road To Infatuation

- I’ve had enough. I can’t take it anymore! – those were the words Nathan had hoped never to hear since the day he fell in love with Jane, a small town country girl he had met in a gas station diner six months earlier. Jane was the kind of girl you fell in love with from the very moment you set eyes on her. In fact, some say that if there ever was a more innocent glance, it couldn’t be found in this Universe. Every time the radio played Van Morrison, it was clear to all that Jane was that same brown eyed girl.
Little did Nathan know that on the very night his pick-up truck broke down in a remote town near Nashville, he was about to meet the woman that would make it all worth while. Nath was the type of guy that made “what you see is what you get” seem like the most irrational quote ever versed. It was true that he was a natural introvert, but most will tell you that you could hardly meet a nicer “dude”. That was probably the main reason he always ended up drunk in practically any place you could imagine. He always helped a friend in need, only to have doors slammed in his face, time and time again, when it came their turn to give. It seemed like Karma had a grudge on Nathan, and that drastically came down to love.
As soon as they saw each other, Jane and Nathan knew that there had to be something more. It was like their minds had taken control of the instant and feared no kind of rejection whatsoever. Nathan had been toyed by a cheeky red-head, who failed to mention her long time boyfriend, for months. Jane had dated a worthless, stone-hearted accountant who betrayed her at first chance. It made sense to both that things couldn’t possibly get any worse than that. And it didn’t. They fell for each other almost as instinctively as they had met. Time passed and slowly, but surely, they overcame any feelings they might still have had for their former partners. The day Jane told Nathan she loved him was surely the most warm hearted day of his life.
The wheels on Jane’s spotless Ford swerved into the empty streets with an intoxicating scent of rubber. Nathan was his own best friend again. He somehow knew that he had lost her for good. He pondered on what he might have done wrong, but he just couldn’t figure it out. All that he hoped for was that she never went back to the bastard she had cared for before. Once again Nathan Rosales was alone, all but him and his dead father’s rifle.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Rainy Days Within

“Life is surely the greatest and most drastic of gifts”, that’s what Daniel told his son on that late September fishing trip they used to take every year. At first, Jake looked up at his old man in clueless awe. Had he measured those words 12 years earlier, then maybe he would have taken his father into more consideration before his prostate succumbed to the infestation of bacteria caused by years of neglect. Looking through his penthouse window in downtown Chicago, Jake watched the rain shatter down into the local park causing the newly placed soil to gather into muddy patches while he took a sip of his favourite Irish whiskey. He could almost imagine the stain it would leave on his brand-new Indian tribal rug, had he taken exactly seven minutes longer at the office. Mr. Du Randt, as they called him with the laid back yet clumsy English accent only Americans can so well portray, was born into a middle class family in the suburbs of the city of Johannesburg in South Africa. He was raised as an Afrikaans speaker, however, foreseeing the need of a good education, Daniel Du Randt sent his second son to an all English school in the outskirts of South Hills. He battled with the culture shock, but never betrayed Rugby over Soccer. “You can kill a South African, but you can never take away his love for the game of gentlemen that is Rugby”. He can still hear his father’s voice every time he remembers these words. At that moment it started to hail. Despite being in the city of the Sears Tower for over a decade, he had never gotten used to the ever unpredictable climate that is Chicago. He stared at his watch. It read 3:26 pm. Only then did he remember that even 500 dollar chrome watches need to have their batteries changed at one point. He took off his shoes and gapped at his tie. Back in Africa, jeans and t-shirts were common clothing. Here in the land of opportunity, such an audacious choice of fabric was enough to label you a “thug”. He fell into the seductive embrace of his armchair. This was the closest he had ever been to affection. Being filthy rich got him luxurious one night stands with some of the cities finest, but never caring. The only real satisfaction came from those lonely Friday nights when he self-gratified himself into a climax of ecstasy. Yet again he poured a glass of Eire’s greatest export, drank it down and felt sorry for himself. Minutes later Jake was in a deep sleep. He knew that his head would feel like crap in the morning, but, at that instant, all that mattered was the emptiness of heart it brought him. Silence fell over those amber walls. Just another day in the life of Jacob Du Randt – business tycoon.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Wake Up To The Migrain

Born in August years ago
Bound for Africa, I miss you so
Lived to the edge from night 'till day
Cursed all those fuckers, won't they go away?

Mind in Mach Three from the age of ten
Scribbled and mumbled with my blue ink pen
Dreamed in frames, it took my pain forever
Life over love, my heart whole for never

Friends are the base of any survival
After that chill my soul needs revival
I'm up for the drugs that money can buy
Cash ain't an issue when it passes you by

A blue summers dream of candy and rum
Drought in the mind of the deaf and the dumb
God be my staff of courage and might
May he make me brave when I miss you so tight.

Friday, September 22, 2006

From Above

Yet another text dated 2002, much better than the last.

I have been this way,
Since that longful day,
Where alone ‘till then,
I’ve lived again.

Her face smooth as silk,
Her eyes bright as pearls,
She seemed like a goddess,
Who came down to judge.

To me she came with all her beauty,
By heaven above may she show mercy!
What a splendid sight has come to me,
Will I now learn to be free?

Or is being free what I now see,
It seems to me like it must be,
The soul that meets mine,
A perfect set.

To my surprise,
Looks don’t despise,
And her voice was to,
Of sweet melody.

If this is love,
Then take me in!
I want to feel this way forever!
You’re my goddess,
Make me your slave,
Everything in you is perfect,
Including thy name,
8 linked letters,
Started thy beauty.

Whom I now wish all night,
Despite the distance,
You feel near,
Despite the difference,
I will not fear.

If this is love,
Then fill me deep,
And do not let go,
For I need you so.

And when I see you again
The wolf will meet the saint,
We shall become one,
In the grasp of a memory.


I was browsing my pc and found this text I wrote back in 2002. I know the language is pretty comun but at least you can all see how crappy I used to write! cheers to all.

Time goes by in such a hurry, without a change in sight. Monotonous. Same people, same views, same mentalities, same stupidity… Breaking free for most is easy, but for me it’s a complete struggle. Romeo and Juliet, what a strange sight, for Romeo says that parting is such sweet sorrow, whilst to me parting means never look back, a new life, a new chance to show my worth, to be admired. There is just one difference: Romeo had someone to drag him close while I must seek other seas, in search of a fish in thy immense variety, and then, when that fish comes, the bait must be right, and my net must be strong, so she may hold. Here I am nothing, there I must go, in search of what I’m looking for. Love is found in every corner, but is it pure? I think not … Love apart from talent, ambition against pure caring. The world is wide, Copernican once said, but will it hold when the distance widens?

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Five Leaf Clover

Mamma always told me that the best things in life are free. Quite honestly, I don’t think that anything is free anymore, no matter the circumstance. I just got back from a three day camping trip in the middle of nowhere. I slept in a tent, while having my back battered by rocks, I had some of my buds around, I had fresh air, booze and complete silence, which made me more stressed out than ever. Even our meter long food bill seemed ironically miniscule when compared to the hunger in our souls. Even though no one spoke of it, we all had made a silent pact, a promise to ourselves that we were there to break free from the manic garden of delight that is living a dream while being awake. We were the most recent contenders of survivor à la Madeira. Our goal: live life to the edge. Well, maybe that wasn’t their objective, but it sure was mine. I’ve given up on so much since high school. Drama class opened my eyes to something new, to characters, to different lives, to a new me, far from the one I had learnt to admire and disgrace. I have learnt that life is too short for hours of work books and despicable theories created by the serendipity of sexless French assholes wanting to be remembered. I wanted to make the most of those three days. I wanted to meditate and find my tranquil garden. I thought that by being a daredevil I would be leaving the sin of caring behind by placing my most recently found virtue in its place – risk. I hardly ate, I drank like there was no tomorrow and I swam in near freezing water, inches from hypothermia. What for? For liberation. For freedom. For life without love! I have found a cure for everything. From memory loss to heartburn to sexual urge to insomnia. All but one. Feelings. I have no antidote for that. No snake venom is stronger than love. Nothing is quite as addictive. Nothing is quite as sweet. Nothing is quite as sour. No matter how cured I want to be or how much I fool myself into thinking I am, it’s going to take me a while to forget the girl from my dreams. Not the girl of my dreams but the girl IN my dreams. My script is almost complete. I’ve still to pick a title, a location and a purpose. The cast is half full, all but the lead star. The muse. The faceless stranger. The angel of my nightmares. The uptown girl with the girl next door smile. I guess I’m not in a hurry. I know that I’m just a fool with an imagination. I’m all but a miracle worker. No one is but God. He created me, blessed me and damned me. He knows best. I will never understand why.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Frame Killer

I left school, tried to be a Director
I wanted to go out, be an infector
The short-length movies that I once made
With the camcorder that my dad had paid

I shot anything that I could see
Almost got a fit when they captured me
The thrills and spills of the blind
Unedited hours in my mind

Parties on Hollywood Boulevard
I finally have a Rover in the yard
Friends have come, or so I thought
Girls wanna have me, my souls been bought

I’m the film star, I’m the Director
I’m the writer, I’m Hannibal Lecter
I’m the poet, I’m the fool
I’m the dreamer, who the hell made up this rule?

I don’t drink ‘cause it’s like a whore
I don’t smoke ‘cause it’s all a bore
I don’t take dope ‘cause I ain’t the star
Even if I tried I wouldn’t get too far

Gotta make it, gonna be needed
Gonna be the hero, be top ten seeded
Fuck society’s hypocrisy
You’ll never get the best of me!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Safe Passage

Dead end. I can hardly believe it. A month long walk has come to an unfortunate conclusion. Despite the path’s bumpiness and uncertainty I had managed to surpass all my hardship. Until now. A solid wall of brick and steel rises ahead of me now, staring down at this pitiful communication scholar. Engineering has always enjoyed the honour of being overrated. Once again that preconception has been proven right. Boat trips in the Ocean, beverage under the moonlight and bittersweet rimes were just too great a temptation. If I were Adam then I have betrayed mankind from the very beginning. She’s Eve, Juliet, Cleopatra, Guinevere, Sleeping Beauty and Helen of Troy all wrapped into an average height, average beauty girl. In fact, she’s like the girl next door. At least that’s what she seemed to be at first glance, at first touch and at first smile. Emerald eyes mesmerized me. I succumbed to her grace. The kiss of all but mutual true love enslaved the soul of Phil, the mortal. This would sound like brilliance if I were writing in platonic 16th century. But I’m not. In the early 21st love is like drinking cold coffee or hot beer while wearing a fur coat in the Kalahari – extreme. A blazing 33ºC sun is burning my neck as I write my most recent confession. Everything is nothing. Hot is cold, sweet is sour but love is still love. Her face is the desktop in my mind and my screensaver is 30 days worth of poetry in motion. Rebooting only lasts about a minute before it loads yet again. Formatting is password protected. My instant messenger doesn’t light up to her smileys anymore. She is gone. Not for good but gone. In a week she heads back to the city of the Tagus where a careless boffin awaits her with open arms. On that day my system will hibernate indefinitely. In time we will meet again. Until then I will treat my wounds with patience and caring. If I will be there when she realizes what I was worth, no one knows, but of one thing I’m sure – we were at the right place at the right time but in the wrong relationship. Go in peace my favourite mistake. God speed and may life be fair. At least to you.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


Hi, I think we’ve met
Right about now the clock is set
Tired minds and hopeless fate
Found that out on our very first date

I had my tie, poker dot red
Nothing but a jackass, your friend had said
My drumsticks roof up on Crash
Air Guitar played by a guy named Slash

But our sound is there
My heart is bare
Can’t you see it girl

In the skate park bumping on the half pipe
On the camping trip walking on the wrong side
In gym class staring at your hot pants
I was a goofball drooling over you, you, you

Graduation right down the highway
Prom night don’t think that I should stay
Homecoming queen, you’re dating the damn football star
If I could I’d hit him with his own fly car

But our sound is there
I’m getting desperate girl
You’re so hot you make me hurl

In band camp playing that dorky song
On the football pitch wondering what I did wrong
On my bed thinking of that lonely queen
I was a goofball drooling over you, you, you

Yeah, drooling over you, you, you
Drooling over you, you, you
All the times I felt so blue
Somehow it came down to you.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Full Hour Glass Empty

Mankind often curses life for being misunderstood. Curious enough, most of these melodramatic threats involve heartbreak and rejection. I’m one of these misfits. Can I say I was? Maybe I still am. I have no idea where my line of thoughts is taking me, I turned the stereo on, 50 cent plays, some mumble about best friends hooking up… figures… I’ve been stuck on Tracy Chapman for the past few weeks. You’d think that riding in fast cars, getting ready for revolutions or telling endless stories were her top hits. Think again, the lady has a chest load of pearls… Right now Busta is telling the posey how much he loves his chick…
I’m sure my blog fans are getting garlic charms and silver bullets ready to end my current state of what I call “talent drought”. It might be a phase, I’m counting on that, weeklong sleepless nights aka insomnia, unpredictable missed calls and constant sighs into space were sweet, but weren’t they supposed to have ended, lets say, 3 weeks ago?!! If you told me that feelings were the next best thing I’d probably laugh at you, send you packing and ship you to some mental institution in the Middle East. I would do that, but at this split second in time I’d reward you with a cruise ticket to the South Pacific, a Thai massage and a year’s supply of champagne and strawberries.
I had a few doubts about fate. I admit that I was skeptical. If you think about it, how can life be blue printed, thought of, scripted, copy written and published, all before you were even born? Every single step pondered to the detail?!! I’m stubborn by nature, but I’m a little more open to that theory now. Getting all “quoty” on you: “it is only after you lose everything that you are ready to gain”, Mr. Pitt – you little bastard – you had it figured out all the time, didn’t you?
When you reach a crossroad, don’t think. Don’t even blink. Just act instinctively and walk into nothing. What do you have to lose? I faced that crossroad about a month ago. I chose to turn right, not out of superstition, but because the grass was red, the sky was green and the track was blurry. I walked into the unknown. I’ve been heading down that dusty road ever since. Picket fences set the boundaries in the maze of life. I might be led to a dead end, I might have to head all the way back, and I might even have to pick a new path. Either way I clinch onto God and confidently say: for once in my life I have lived.

Thursday, August 17, 2006


Sighing to the ceiling of my island room
It seems like a frame straight out of doom
Soul that besieged me and rattled my door
Joust that demolished, battered me sore

Ram of illusion caressing my pain
Axe cracking centaurs think I am sane
Goblins of slaughter pay homage to tears
Needless to say I sweat all my fears

Longbows surpass the beating of flesh
Katanas make haste on the daimyo named fresh
From Gobi came riders blessed with ambition
A legion of warlocks craved for addiction

Thrones are lifted though most still remain
A crown is a jewel reluctant to stain
Empires built in a wink of an eye
Others collapse everytime one does sigh

Vineyards Of Peach

Love was the warmth that a child once had
Then love was the passion that did drive him mad
Later that love turned from sour to hate
Soon after sweet love not a second too late

Love is the dilemma that takes all his sleep
This love makes him shiver crying rivers too deep
Currently such love makes him hate all delight
Now this lost love still remains out of sight

Love will be there in the blue of the sea
Soon love shall sail under clouds that are free
Knowing that love is as red as can be
God shall bring love to the corpse that is me

Thursday, July 06, 2006


Lunch in the sun by the maple tree shade
Moments called Zen in the life we both made
Cannabis thoughts in the puffs I dismissed
If I had then, I'd be lost in the mist

Daisies and roses in grief's tender glare
Blurred around the edges, were you still there?
Runway to runway, tarmac of dreams
Spawned of an Elder, a purpose it seems

Puppets of paper limp in the rain
Forever be drunk, It will flatter your pain
Acrobats and Clowns are the Angels of Death
They're laughing it out, soldiers of Seth

Silence is golden. If so I'd be rich
A mime would be wealthy, not just a bitch
People are faceless but all so unique
You age in discretion, you just reached your peak

Friday, June 09, 2006


Lifelong efforts to stutter the dark
Heaven and Earth feel so far apart
Iron that pierced did leave its mark
Need and disgust were there from the start

Tribes co-exist in sweet tender rage
Empires fall at a whisper of a mage
Lucifer sighs at the life he once had
Christ is the target, the world has gone mad

The sun ceased to shine on that lonesome king
His broad hand on lust was his huge dismay
He woke up that instant, the birds did not sing
Sometimes speech haults, what will we then say?

You never know folk 'till you see their soul
You will soon change when you see they're not whole
The word expectation has no real complexion
That pitiless urge that has no direction

Fuck is a word, the feeling is better
She was a mistake, I should not have met her
Time is the source that laughs in your face
You're not on your throne, you've fallen from grace

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Two Thousand And Six

I'm a downtown boy
Not in status but in soul
I've been lost since that day
Year of nineteen eighty-four

I've been high most times
Down on booze not on dope
I've been driving down that road
Though my headlights were on hold

Do you taunt out of grief
Or are you the better half of me?
Am I damned to this warmth
Or are you the gap that I don't see?

Is this loneliness alone
Or the mutter of the spoilt?
Can you see past it all
Or is there nothing left to glare?

Life would be so simple
If illusion was just in mind
It would be so much sweeter
If there was nothing left to find

Poison sips and daggers
Are a fool's way of passing
It burns and tares in silence
Year of twenty-twenty-five

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Tempting Underworld

Temper changes in my rotten mind
Mood swings beckon in the valley of the blind
I woke up this morning, the world at my feet
Six hours later and I wish it stayed sweet
My plot was deemed perfect, no flaw in sight
A traitor in dreadlocks swayed all my might

Dwarves go to groups, they gave up on vice
A death row pardon at a twist of a dice
The smell of hot sweat drenches my vains
Enfatuation slithers straight off it's chains

My tears are toxic, they burn when I stare
I'm lost in a crowd, this world has a spare
I dream of my parting, I'm worth more than this
Lead through brain tissue I shall not dismiss

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Why do I?

Why do I stop and stare when you just walk on by?
Why does that sweet tender smile make me just want to die?
Why does my heart beat fast when I hear you name?
Why do I weap tears of blood everytime you brag his fame?
Why do I stand and curse waiting on the phone?
Why do I feel dull and blue sitting all alone?
Why do I write and rhyme if it just hurts much more?
Why do I wish and hope if you're not mine for sure?
Why does your face hold eyes of morning dew?
Why does your grace strike when I'm missing you?
Why do you haunt my dreams when I lie down in bed?
Why do I wake the same next day and remember what you said?
Why don't I tell you every single day?
Why don't you see past the act and promise that you'll stay?
Why don't I walk away while I have time to spare?
Will I regret this poem the day you're no longer there?

Space Age Killer

When your lost in space
There's no turning 'round
When you betray your race
You don't know where you're bound

I'm cool at this instant
My soul is still lost
All it takes is a moment
To lose all you've got

When you've nothing to lose
Your mind is on gain
It's hard when you choose
'Cause I'm dumb like a pain

I've nothing to gain
I've nothing to lose
I'm nothing in mind
Even less in spirit

Even walks in a park are lonely
Even dreams are a state of the mind
Nothing is yours, I say sincerely
I've been cursed, everyday I am blind

I was the first off the tree
I was green now I'm rotting on turf
Once I was gravity in theory
Now hate is me, love is you

Friday, January 06, 2006

Bird Of Good Tidings

When you're alive hope is your will
You mount it all up like it were a thrill
Pretend it's alright when you're taking pills
Finally got well when you're stabbed by two drills

I loved in a time when I was naive
I was fooled and mauled by those stinking thieves
Sucked it all up, playing my part
God forbid that a man have a heart

Now that I passed to the side that is dark
I'm calm in my mind, my heart turned to bark
Hate is my key, I'm sure it will turn
Friend and foe in flames will all burn

Never did man find peace in affection
It just gives him a great big erection
We curse on our friends, call them all fuckers
Give them a beating for being cock suckers

Death is my home, zephyr of freedom
Tombs on deep graves, that is my kingdom
One sour day my squadron will fly
The New Age is coming straight from the sky

Tuesday, December 13, 2005


Hi. Long time no see. It has been too long. I can't remember the last time I wrote a Male Values chapter. Stats say this is the seventh posting. I didn't plan to write six and then leave the other four months apart. Shit happens! Sometimes you have to invest in a girl or should I say get your heart shattered, stomped, battered, recycled and then thrown back at you in the crappy material second hand paper is made of. I give up. Hell who wouldn't?! Women won't give you a break. I mean they are bloody sinister masterminds! Instead of having their PMS all at the same time, they "strangely" insist on having this bitchy attitude in a straight succession, which means men feel like shooting the whole damn race, all month long! The ultimate and most drastic case of PMS rage is marriage. It starts at a week and ends in a life long hell. Side effects are swollen prostate, single beds and masturbation.
Women are divided into three groups: women, bitches and selective bitches. Women include moms, sisters, grans, one or two unfuckable cousins and that's about it. Bitches are the best. They're easy to find, all you have to do is ride around town after eleven, pick them out of a catalogue, have great sex (and a decent blowjob!), pay and you won't have to see them again. Selective bitches are the ones you have to avoid. Not trying to get all Gaytrix on you but "they're all around us". The blonde in your geometry class. Her friends. The librarian. The social security lady. The bank clerk. In fact, 99,9% of females that aren't bitches are selective bitches! Why should they be extinct? Because they don't like decent guys like us! They like men who are rich, have a fly ride and above all treat them like shit. If you look like a travesti, smoke weed, drink, get butt banged twice a day and beat them up harder than the Undertaker wacking Shawn Michaels, you are her man. If you're like me, an obvious dude, you have no shot. Just do what I do. Stick to whores. Selective bitches have t-shirts saying:"boys, coffee and chocolate are best rich"(you are my fave slut S, but I still love you!) or "I swallow". Sure beats lie detectores...
I am an extremely hated person. The main reason I write Male Values is because I'm miserable and lonely. Portugal was supposed to have been my toilet, but it's turning out the other way round. I'm not looking for sympathy. Maybe I put it on myself by being too nice. Now I'm lonely, sad, desperate and sexless. No one laughs at my jokes anymore, even though they're better than most. I'm discriminated for being an outsider. I hope things will change. Either that or I'll try moving to Mars where there are no people around. Maybe then I'll be safe. I've heard that martian threesomes are the bomb!

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Sleeping, You're back, In The Rain

Sleeping remains
I'm standing in the rain
A song won't bring you back
Folks just won't cut you slack

A rainbow in the sky
Birds just hide and cry
We kept you in esteem
Now all we do is scream

I laughed for a while
I was litten by your smile
Your hair was smooth as silk
You hated drinking milk

You stayed there, you could not come
I got my stuff and went on home
I promise that I'll never forget
In my heart your sun won't set

I had you, I needed you
I wanted you, I lost you
I prayed, I was craving
That smile kept on saving
Hate me like I love you
I always tried to be true
Now I'm laying in the slum
Live well, you are my sun

Coke And Gun Powder

The day has dawned
The world is out of reach
Kids keep being spawned
They keep fucking on a beach

They jerk off in their room
Guys smoke some pot and joke
Girls treated with a broom
We all have hearts of oak

Sluts with whom you live
Keep screwing with your scrap
PMS their hive
I'd shoot them off the map

Sunset and I'm there
Rugby on the cube
My trophy's on the wall
They laughed now they're screwed

When I lay down and sleep
I pray for those I hate
They're trash why should they leap?
God will fish them out like bait

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Grey Clouds For Rain

I’m finally back. After 4 months I’ve decided to write another chapter on my blog. Another perspective. It’s been a while since the Male Values were the next best thing on a love frustrated guy’s TO GET list. I’m back but for now I don’t feel like making anyone laugh. A giggle is always welcome but there are moments when even a clown needs time off. If you’d met up with me 2 months ago, I’d be as ecstasied as a teen just before having sex for the first time. I was happy. Now that I’m back in the real world, I don’t seem to know what reality actually is. Is it showing all your manhood by being a breathtaking dancer and getting as many girls into the sack as possible? Is it finally recognising that you can never rely on anyone but yourself to get the job done? Is it trying to be brave, when the two people you love most in the world are a thousand nautical miles away, aging and being beautiful and vibrant as ever while you get drunk? Is it telling your friends that they’re everlasting and then replacing them with others you just met? If all these things mean you’re alive, then I define my current state of awe as being purgatory. The sky is grey. Either that or it’s just the deflexion of my freshly shaved and scarred face. We spend so much time facing ourselves, trying to look better, stronger, and more charismatic, that we forget to flip the coin. Tails work on those that are not self centred and drastically beautiful. However, in our lust, features are all that matters. What we forget is that Venus is just as shallow.
I was admiring a plane the other day. In doing so I was in fact admiring man’s brilliance. I have always been bewildered by flight. The way tons of iron and steel welded together can face gravity is beyond anyone’s imagination. Maybe the reason why man hates life is the same reason why he hates maths. Reality, like maths, is all around us. We hate what we don’t understand, so we deprive ourselves of knowledge. Years later we miss the 1 million dollar question for 2 minutes of stupidity a decade earlier.
This leads me to the primates I share my air with. Most of them are the biggest scum the world had the embarrassment of breeding. They call themselves non racists and label me as one. All because I don’t hold others on pedestals and worship them all day long. I face blacks, whites, browns, blues, indigos, cucumber nosed, tuna faced all as equals, and thus for, I read them as such. I don’t sit Mugabe on a thrown and only then reach the conclusion that he is too high to ever be heard. Wake up people! I can’t be read like a pamphlet or a mini dictionary! I demand respect! Don’t underestimate me and above all don’t wrongly try to correct me in my native tongue. EVER!
We can only prepare for a storm before the rain. When the sky turns grey it’s too late to act. Being the worst in Europe can rapidly turn to the worst in a planetary scale. Be aware. The first drops are falling.

Saturday, July 23, 2005


The holidays are finally on! No studying for a whole month. No theories, no chit-chat from teachers and no bull shit from your posey. In fact all I have to do now is rest my mind and exercise my C-O-C-K. It’s impossible for any man not to. No matter how much you have to do, no matter how many problems you have, your mini-you will always need some feeding. Lately I’ve been giving mine the 5 gal treatment. Yes, the 5 finger treatment. Mary, Kate, Sue, Jessica and Michelle aka my right hand fingers. I named my left hand fingers as Philly 1,2,3,4 and 5. I only use them on girls, unless they’re lesbians (where I then use my right hand) or bi’s (where I alternate between both). When I wipe my ass I always use my right hand. Ain’t no guy gonna stick a finger up my tight channel!
An alternative to the 5 gals is internet dating. I don’t buy it. Just imagine if all the apparently good looking girls with instant boning photos are in fact guys? Take a moment to reflect. Just imagine if a girl you’ve been chatting to for the past year is actually called Juanito and not Juanita as you originally thought. I know that it’s only a difference between an A and an O, but physically it makes all the matter. To certify completely, book the first flight into paradise and make sure those Emerald eyes and that sexy voice are in fact belongings of a surfing babe. If you end up meeting a Jose Pablo instead of a Lolita, make sure you have an EXIT ONLY sign in both English and Spanish above your asshole. As a last resort, you can always stick a cork in it, just don’t shake your bottle too much or it might pop out. You can’t be too careful.
Dating neighbours is weird. Especially when you’re doing your best to keep it a secret from your parents. Those 10 steps from your flat to hers can be as tricky as convincing your mom that your neighbour was indeed performing CPR and not just giving you head as it may have seemed... You have to plan things with precision. That’s what makes things exciting for little Philly (the monster not the finger!). You start acting like a spy. Your mission is to bang the neighbour as best you can and as clean as possible. If you get caught you’ll get shot by her cop father but you should still take the risk. Life is made out of risks. Most of them fuck up your life and make a kid call you dad when you’re still 16. Others get a smile out of your High School Prom Queen the day after the worst drinking night of your life (which you can’t remember), yet others set you free from mind slavery. These are the risks worth taking. I’ve stopped drinking because that’s not the way to forget her. Risking on someone else is. I met a girl a couple of weeks ago. She’s the T in Terrific and the T in Taboo. She brings thoughts of the Original Sin in me. But above all she managed to do what booze couldn’t. I appreciate it, even if she is just a Wild Card.
Every single part of Male Values is inspired on some special people. Even though I don’t mention any names, they all know who they are and that I respect and care for them all. I pay homage to friendship. Friends are something gained throughout life, not something inherited like family. We can choose our friends, not our relatives. Therefore, next time you meet up with a FINE (Fuel Injection Nookie Ecstasy) girl cousin of yours, make sure you point out that you are friends, above all, and as such she will feel free to get naked, join you a bubble bath and help you with your Climax. That’s what real friendship is all about. Fuck Friends save lives. Don’t wait any longer. Give your mate a mate.

Thursday, July 14, 2005


If I’m publishing this then I must have had some good reviews on Part 4 or sunshine probably apologized for being such a bitch. Either way, I’m back for another chapter. Most of my friends have been saying that I’ve been lacking in dirty talk for the last few weeks. I know I’ll be writing my death sentence (Sunshine and Co.) but lets get things back to male talk, shall we?
99% of women (note: the other 1% is under age 4), hate using toilet paper. To them the concept of wiping ones ass is as unknown as celibacy to men. How do they expel those nasty rocks you ask me? Well, by wearing thongs. Have you ever had a good look at those? They are nasty buggers that seem to fit into a woman’s asshole tighter than a nutcracker on balls (but that’s another story altogether…). What women do next is grab their weekly thongs in a bundle and throw them all into the washing machine. Kind of makes you wonder why some jeans have brown smudges on them.
I just got back from court. Don’t worry, it’s still safe for you to have chickens at home. I just got back from my law appeal. The one I suggested back in Part 1. According to the judge, the only reason women use skirts is to provoke a man. Not because they want him. He stated that one lovely green eyed girl from the Dominican Republic said, and I’ll quote: “We love the drooling look on guys’ faces when we move around in mini-skirts. We have the laugh of our lives…” Honey, your green eyes have me drooling already, never mind the rest of you (Love You Sylvie ;-)) Music is a woman’s way of blowing a guys mind. I’m not mentioning dancing (again), I’m referring to a simple, plain, “harmless” song. We all have a song that reminds us of a girl. Hell, I can name 100 songs and each one will be linked to at least 1 girl. We just can’t let it get to us. A friend of mine used to love hearing She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5, it was his “Moment of Glory”, now she dumped him, literally, and I’ll have to buy a fucking new Hi-Fi for playing that song every time he “accidentally” walked into the room.
This crazy thing happened to me a few months ago. I added Mario’s Let Me Love You video clip to my blog under the title: Mario – Let Me Love You. My mom got so perplexed when she saw it blogged onto my blog that she thought I was gay. (Damn, ok Richard, laugh it off, you too Braza) I got so pissed that I said: “What?!! You think I’m gay?!! After all the proof I’ve shown you?!!” She just said: “Well, college does thing to people” I will say no more. University does things to people. Some go gay, I didn’t. Some girls go bitchy, the ones I know didn’t. That’s what pisses me off. The Jews Promised Land was Egypt. Mine was Coimbra. I heard so many stories. I was rating it as XXX city of Portugal! I even had T-Shirts done: “Life Sucks. So Will You!” I get here and nothing. Not even a note on my flute. Not even icing on my cake. Not even coming with a little loving. No one told me you have to work for these girls too. I thought that getting a bone was enough to make her worship your god. Obviously religion isn’t the best approach, unless she’s an atheist wanting to kick the fucking hell out of you! A prick I still call my friend says I’m mean for writing Male Values. I guess that Varsity definitely got him from the BACK.
Drinking has to be the most efficient Lie Detector around. A few sips of Ethanol are enough to get the truth out of anyone. You can tell if a girl loves you or hates you. You can tell if she likes your blog or if she’s about to be a whore and add a screwed up comment on it. You can even tell if she’s biting her lips because she wants you or if it’s just an allergic reaction to Pre-Semen exposure. Just don’t ever try that on men. It’ll get nasty. This one bloke told another bloke he was hot. Come on! I’m supposed to be in the city of Hetero-Love, not in the middle of a daily Gay Pride Parade!!
That’s all for this week. I know it’s been depressing but so is Elvis Costello. He sucks. No, Diana Krall sucks. She’s married to Elvis Costello. Diana sucks Elvis. Damn. I wish I were depressing.

Saturday, July 09, 2005


I really don’t fancy love. I used to, but I kind of gave the whole caring thing a break. The reason I dislike it so much is because it’s the only feeling that alcohol doesn’t make us temporarily forget. I’ve had beer, whiskey, shots, even methanol by accident, in fact I’m drunk right now and still I can’t forget her. She’s not the Dancing Queen I’ve mentioned in my last 3 posts, nor one of those foxes. She’s not even the tiger. Unfortunately she’s the gal with the boyfriend. Everyone I know says she doesn’t deserve me. She’s either too dumb, too clumsy or too weird. She’s never either too beautiful, too charismatic or too smart. I’m starting to think people are just trying to comfort me!
Every time I get rejected I think about 3 of my friends. They have everything a girl may want and even so they’ve been dry for some time now. I’m referring to the Stormer, the Junkie who’s into Nitro and the guy who says he’s “hot”. Love is so lame that no matter how beautiful any other girl is and how hard she’s hitting on you, you’ll never give her any credit, all because you’re stuck on someone else. Freaking Hell! Since I’ve been in Coimbra, I could have been with at least 5 fascinating women and I’ve neglected them, all because of her. An impossible creature with a supposedly jackass boyfriend. I guess the only remedy for this madness is meeting another South African. Members from the same species usually get along. I met one the other day. She seems nice, but her boyfriend is almost as tall as the Sears Tower which leaves little room for my one storey tin house.
Everyone loves the movies. I don’t know if it’s the hot actresses, the groovy special effects or the cinematic approach, but we all try to be what we see on screen. I remember when boys wanted to be Karate Kids and girls wanted to be hookers like Julia Roberts, those were the days. All the money our moms gave us for tuck went into playing hide and go seek with our neighbours and riding the pony with our cousins. A friend of mine still remembers the day he presumably had intercourse. For the record he was 5 and she was 4. Today at age 18 he still brags about it. Bru, that doesn’t count! Not even in Michael Jackson standards! My life achievement would be to win an Oscar. Not the guy Oscar, the Academy Award. What about that? Me winning an Academy Award. Half the guys who win one don’t deserve it so what’s wrong with giving another nutbag a statue? I can’t act, my writing is worse than crap, I’d probably suck at producing and directing and above all I’d be too naturally ugly to play Frankenstein and too white to play Nelson Mandela. The guys who admitted me at UCLA must have been drunker than me when they decided to call me in. Either way I must have been the drunkest not to accept. I apologize for part 4. I know it’s not close to being as good as the others and that it’s too sentimental. I’ll leave it to you, the reader, to decide if I should publish further or call it a day. It’s been a pleasure.

Thursday, June 30, 2005


I love chess. Everything about it. The sound of ivory on wood, the endless mind games and the sight of drooling half-blind bald soviets who haven’t had any in years. The worst part of chess is the world championships. In this competition, Kasparov is chess’ Michael Jordan. The guy is unbeatable and as such the biggest faggot around. Why you ask me? Let’s face it. How would you feel if a dude said “checkmate” to you every 5 seconds? Just imagine, you against the champ, every time you hear that you get under the table and check his mate. Now that’s scary. I heard he’s playing against computers now. Talk about short circuit. I only play against girls. I stink at the sport but they don’t, so every time she says the magic word I slide on down and try to be a good boy…
Golf is another underachieving sport. How dumb can a game be? You whack a ball 500 times and only then do you manage to get the hole. I know that some guys get an eagle, that’s when you knock the ball and get it in the hole about 100 metres away. I admire that, but let’s face it. You only get “it” in first time once in your life.
Most people don’t know this but I’m half Portuguese and as such I often wonder what foreigners actually know about the country. I’d guess they know the soccer team. That’s probably as far as it goes… If you ask a girl about Portugal she’ll say: “Cristiano Ronaldo is from there!” As a matter of fact Ronaldo was born on the same island as me – Madeira. The sad thing is that he gets all the gals, all the money and all the fame. I’m famous for being dumb, I count cents ‘til the end of the month and my gal is my right hand. I can see the resemblance… The other half of me is South African, and with that I inherited the love for braais, biltong, pap en vleis, boerewors rolls, fast cars and of course, Rugby! Now that’s a manly sport. Nothing like soccer. The okies in rugby put their bodies in the line every week. They get smashed, stepped on, kicked, punched and in the end they all look like trash. Even so, they all manage to date South Africa’s best. Most of them look worse than Freddy Kruger and still they get to sympathise with former Miss Universe’. I obviously ended up with the worst of both worlds.
Once I dated a girl. Yes, I had to make this crucial decision after I got shot in the leg by Mr. Smith for raping chickens on his poultry farm. It always seemed to remind me of KFC. As I was saying, I dated the girl for the good part of 3 years. I had ups and downs, a lot of ins and outs, and for once I was happy. I liked her. Maybe I loved her. But none of it mattered because under the sheets the girl was a tiger. Finally she broke up with me and is now living with one of the biggest nerds I have ever seen. But he’s a good nerd, ‘cause he’s a rich nerd. That’s what makes all the difference. If I were a rich nerd she’d probably be with me still. If I were a rich nerd I’d have girls lining up to be with me. If I were rich I’d have had oral sex by now. And if I were rich I’d ban music and bring my best friend from the dead. That way no girl would be able to ruin friendships. We would never have to tell them how beautiful they are and how much we need them. We would never have to say how much we’ve missed them and we would never ever have to say we love them, and how we always will.

Friday, June 24, 2005


I just got back from surgery. They managed to stick back the part of my crotch that had gone missing. The nurse that treated me got so enthusiastic with the size of Philly’s Willy that she offered to finally give me a blowjob. Unfortunately it just wasn’t my day. She suffocated on the flake I had strapped around my pole and fell into a coma. What about that? The last thing a woman sees before falling into a coma is the one thing she seeks all her life for. Of course not all women like penis. Just like me some want kant. That one little detail is enough to make any lesbian my best friend. In fact, the next time I meet a lesbian, I’m going to invite her and her girlfriend out for dinner. I won’t get the blowjob I’ve always wanted, but I’ll get something more valuable: a pussy cocktail!
The other day I went to the beach. There’s nothing more soothing than sand, the sound of the ocean and semi-naked women. It’s vital for any man to choose a strategical spot where he can see either a topless blonde, a topless brunette, an underless blonde or an underless brunette. If you fail to do so, just lie down next to the best looking girl there. Secondly, and most importantly, look at her, make your presence felt then simply walk up to her and lie… Try telling her you’re Canadian, that’ll get her attention. After you apologise about a hundred times for Celine Dion and Bryan Adams she’ll smile, that’s when you lie again and say you’re a surfer. Chicks love dudes and waves. Then you ask her out to dinner or as dinner. If she says no, you obviously asked her for her number – big mistake – women control you, you never control women.
Instead of studying for my exams I sat around writing this chapter of Male Values. Every man is like this. When he has to study he either counts the hours to the soccer match, pulls wire, looks at Hustler magazine and pulls wire or takes a dump. Everything in a man’s life involves his body. He uses it, abuses it, and finally has trouble getting an erection at 50. Women prefer to exercise their minds. The less sex they have the more they study. Not even a virgin’s 5 speed vibrator her granny gave her gets any use, all because she has to think about her future. Everyone knows that sex is the best way of assuring your future. Take Sir Isaac Newton for instance. If he hadn’t been playing around the apple tree with Eve he would never have discovered gravity. Or Benjamin Franklin, if he hadn’t been doing the maid on his roof, his iron cast condom would never have been struck by lightning. Everything happens for a reason, and sex is in all of them.
I shot my best friend today. Yes, that one, the anti-vulture clan leader. Finally I’ll be able to talk to that friend of mine, the innocent girl in my class. Everything’s so silent. I stare at her and hold her hand. Suddenly the unexpected happens. Music starts playing and she starts dancing. I quickly remember that I have to study for my exam. I run home, sit down, grab my book and then… I pull wire.

Friday, June 17, 2005


To me, going to a disco is pretty much like shopping for groceries. You pick the best looking veggies and fruit which have to be just ripe and firm. Same goes for girls. Men are the simplest beings ever created. As soon as we get unleashed into a small space with flashing lights, our primitive instincts come into play. When it comes to snooping out for girls no man is an amateur. I’ve been out there with the best of them and apparently all it takes are a couple of words to make her feel like checking your mate. I think there should be a law that makes women have to have sex with you if they’re wearing a skirt or one of those blouses that let you see each breast in detail. If such a law existed, no man would have to go through a day without having his share of Gina. Women seem to crave your desire, even if they don’t want you. It’s like if your pleasure made her accumulate desire into one big orgasm, with someone else.
Don’t you just hate it when the girl you like loves someone else? Man! That’s a major bummer! You just feel like smacking the bastard silly and feeding his balls to the pigs! Even so, the worst is when the okie is your best friend. I know I shouldn’t be so resentful, but why is it that he only hits on the girls I dated that were foxes? Why didn’t he go for the vultures? Why is he so picky? What’s so unhorny about girls with a bigger moustache than mine? I’m sure she could shave it off! (including her oversized pubes, of course…) I’ve noticed that most guys are reluctant to have intercourse with virgins. In a way I understand why. A woman’s first time is said to be painful, therefore men don’t want to be associated with that single moment of unpleasant pleasure. Then again, it can’t be worse then her period, which means we can always give the slut another reason to wish she were a guy!
A friend of mine says he’d choose any brunette over any blonde. I’m not fussy. I like both. But I must say blondes are great! Let’s take 2 for instance: Jenna Jameson and Silvia Saint. Both are blondes, both have better bodies than any girl you’ll ever dream of dating, and at 35 we’ll still be jerking off thinking of them. It takes simple maths. If 100 men buy a copy of “Jenna goes Saint” and milks his prostate twice a day, we’ll have 100 happier men on Earth. No man buys brown haired porn star tapes! Therefore: Brunettes good, blondes better.
Have you ever had a blowjob? I’ve been wanting one since I was 12. But nooo! They say it’s “disgusting”. Can you believe that? Almost every girl lets you bang her in the ass, in the ears, in the nose, but they won’t let you do it in their mouth? Once I tried disguising my package as an ice cream, you know, Strawberry and Vanilla flavours on your balls, a flake on your winky and you top it all up with whipped cream. A true masterpiece! Unfortunately the urge to suck quickly turned into the need to bite. Now my monster is on a miserable scale of 25cm. I’ll never forget the 15 she bit off…
To finish the first set of thoughts I’ll be publishing on my blog, I would like to refer to someone special. Every man has a friend from the opposite sex. A girl that’s a friend but not a girlfriend. You only see her as such and you accept her as only that. All until the dreadful day she gets introduced to… music. After seeing the way that baby moves her hips, all your moral values about friendship fade away faster then you can say Indiana Jones and the Temple of Poon. You start wanting her bad! You dream about her. You might even wet your pants. You propose, but once again you get dumped. Why? Ask your best friend.

Thursday, May 19, 2005


Life is in the moment
Time just started now
New borns cry their coming
Old folk pass tonight

Violets bloom in purple
Men don't come in white
Beasts and beauties splendor
God comes home tonight

Affection has no taking
Fear is on the move
Pornstars are all dating
Siblings all come through

Drugs are all like sex
An orgy of our dreams
Dope makes things near awkward
Real and fake alike

Cups cease having bottoms
Hats stop needing tops
Hearts deprive all caring
Death is all we've got

Living through this chaos
Makes me ponder on
Craving for the second
When Christ will come along

Wednesday, May 18, 2005


Land of the wild
Home of the brave
The weather is mild
Eyes of a slave

Gauteng of gold
Egoli of praise
Regents be told
Avoid their gaze

Cape of wrath
Province of hope
Plagued by moth
Zapper and dope

Kwazulu of age
Blood in a river
Natal on one page
Fear makes them shiver

Once did he come
Six times for some
Five tribes of laughter
Two mornings after

Free it may be
Entwined more then few
None dared to see
Sweet morning dew

Nkosi of Shaka
Mister of Brits
Rainbow your hues
Strength comes in two's


I'm losing inside
My pain is abright
I'm taking the ride
Ain't seeing the light

Girls are just thrills
I'm lacking right through
Shooters and pills
Mary, Kate, Sue

Hot like damn hell
My pal ain't get none
Not banging a well
'bout time I got some

Screwing my paw
Mastering my bate
'till all it gets raw
Can't sleep when it's late

Love is my jail
I just did my time
Rainbow through sail
Stone made of lime

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

The end of the beginning

-Damn! I screwed it! That's exactly what I told myself on that unfortunate Tuesday afternoon, moments after making the move of my life. You know when you have one of those bloody hard soccer games that you just have to clock at any cost but you can't? I felt 100 times worse. The thing is, THIS game can't be clocked by a loser... at least a loser like me. I woke up quite confident that morning, knowing that I'd have to break it to her, no matter the cost, I had to tell her what I'd been saving back for the good part of 5 months... Of course I kind of digged her pretty face from the moment I saw it. First looks were not deceiving. I got my damn suite on... about a pound of gel that would make Travolta proud and my nifty arnette's. I felt like a recruit on his way to Guadalcanal, forseeing the first bullet striking through his chest. Duty called, I walked up to her, sat down, my head wizzed with all the beer I had drunk before. I personally think that they should start calling it a miracle and not plain BEER... I was cool, told her all I felt and that the only reason I never said a word before had to do with her okie... probably the luckiest fucker on Earth. I had planned to say what I had to say and simply walk away. She held me back and called the sentence. I got the friendship line, for the one thousandth time in 20 years... ok... 7 years... impossible as it may seem I did NOT hit on the nurse during labour! She was dazzled! She didn't see it coming! Even though practically everyone in the city already knowing that I fancied her (her included) she seemed struck!! I FINALLY walked away. We're still friends, even though I lost the match and threw away the game, I still liked it... I never scored but hopefully I'm not the only one. Now I'm gonna rest my eyes. Games are harmful at least till the new version comes out. GAME OVER. I lost. Christ had a purpose for all this, I'll never understand what.

Friday, April 22, 2005

PhP Mystique

Popping up around the town
Screeking on all doors
Picking rose buds off the ground
Quenching all his bores

Yankie Doodle is his mate
Smoking on their way
Laughing for not being late
A new feather everyday

Humpty Dumpty was on the wall
Strangely this time he did not fall
Hamlet was there when he did drop
Ophelia had not need for a mop

Jack and Jill went down the hill
They had already gone up
Soon they reached the pepper mill
Bo Peep had a new pup

Love and friends had to move out
their gig was out of date
Lust came in to run the joint
She ruled from that same day

Finally that day had come
The factory was in town
Charlie could not be dismayed
Sweetness he did taste

Some years later a boy arrived
From the rainbow he did come
On Atlantis he tried to survive
At the moment he's deprived

Going to the club one night
He searched out for a muse
Something though just wasn't right
They had been sent away

Now he lives in peace of mind
Among the mystic few
Dreaming of the times
When he was still brand new

Monday, March 14, 2005

The only person I trust is the only person I am

The world is against me
Not the world but the land
I just can't be free
When I'm walking on sand

My friends are but few
The fake crushed on my way
I will soon renew
And my pain will not stay

Pain is all in the head
I try to conform
Am I just undead?
Life by a norm

Rain will drop on all
On soil soon fall
Roses be washed
Backs will be lashed

I live and let live
Damn why can't I?
Theories don't strive
When someone does die

Friday, February 25, 2005

In the Land of the Doves

Hitting rock bottom never felt so smooth
Being alone never felt so sweet
Screwing seems so far in time it's pathetic
Loving you so makes me just forget it

Lashing my mind when I should be resting
Pictures of you make me wish you were mine
I guess that soon my heart will stop beating
Want me no more, your eyes were the sign

Upgrade each time my mentor kept saying
In the land of the doves you are so portraying
A silver bullet strikes through my heart
Your lovely face tells me when to part

Beauty and lust both combined
Awake afrodite from the world of the blind
The zephyr of hope runs through my hair
Through the Land of the Doves I will one day dare.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Am I retarded?

Why is it that everytime I start getting interested in a girl, she either ignores me, gives me the finger, or worst of all has a boyfriend? These are some of the questions I constantly have running through my head. I keep asking myself, what don't I have? I decided to add this remark to my blog, hoping that someone out there might help me out! I know you think I'm being in some way well over melodramatic, the truth is I might as well be. Ok, it's true that now and again I get the odd smile, the odd touch, even the odd glance, and believe you me, some of those glances are anything but innocent, but even so I can't get to the other level... I sometimes feel like I'm... well... hated! Ok, now I'm way over my heels! I think I can better defend myself if I actually do some of my ratings. From what I've learnt, most women (actually all of them) are look oriented, believe it, they can be even shallower then us men, if that could be possible! I'm not a die-hard good looking guy, I can't make a girl fall to my feet with a million dollar smile, the best I can do is make her pleed for me to stop smiling! I can't be picked out of a crowd, but on the other hand, I think I'm ... fair, that's the in between of mega ugly and prince charming good looking, if you want it in an educational manner, I'd rate myself C+, just scraping the B mark. Impressive you might say, but believe me looks won't win you any prizes in this game, they might earn you a second look, but you need flair! You must be thinking: "Hold on, why should I take any advice from this dude, a moment ago he was moaning in self pity!" trust me, I know where I've gone wrong! Secondly and most importantly, you have to have a vibrant personality, be funny but don't become the clown, if she'd want that she'd go to a circus. Try not to be clumsy, I try not to, I take pills for that now, and I'm starting to see the results... 4 years later. I'm confident, not enough, but more then I need, I stammer a lot when I'm nervous, which leads to my bad portuguese accent getting even worse then it originally is, and most importantly, I have the most adorable english accent in the world, let's say it's a Hugh Grant meets Arnold Vosloo meets Jim Carey type of thing, did I miss you back there? Now down to the real deal, cutting the chit chat, the rit rat, the hokis pokis... none of this is actually important unless... and pay attention now... she loves you and you love her. I know I've blurred your thoughts, I've had mine blurred from the beginning of this term so I know what it feels like. I wrote all this crap, just to say that no matter how low you feel, felt and surely are going to feel, there is always a brighter day. No matter how heart broken you are, you still have tears for more, such is life, c'est la vie, shit happens, name it, it's heading your way. What really counts in the end, is how you face every single trap life sets before you, every single deceipt. If you love the girl... just be honest, it's not supposed to be easy, if it were easy I'd be going home to Angelina Jolie tonight... it's possible but not likely. If she has a boyfriend, give it time, don't start assembling voodoo dolls, I've tried it, it doesn't help, just give it time, she'll get fed up of him, and that's when you try your luck. I'm in this situation, I've been waiting for some time now, I'm tired, impatient and frustrated, but I'll wait, she's worth it.

Friday, January 21, 2005


I lived life for so long
Just like in a song
Calling in the dark
Lonely in a park
Wishing to be saved
Hoping everyday
While my heart gets shaved
By the words you didn't say

Rhyme of a Soaking Heart

Written once in Africa, recalled to the world.

I tried to sing a lullaby
Speak words right and true
None of this I will deny
Because I care for you

I live my life through Spring and Fall
Summer and Winter too
I guess that I have seen it all
But I keep feeling blue

I like her who ignores me
Or so I think it is
Is this the way it should be
Or am I just amiss?

I can't say what I feel
I can but I won't do
All this time I've been around
But I can't stop loving you.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

The Right Side Of Wrong

Sweet November and I’m sitting all alone
Pen and paper as I’m sitting at home
Thinking of times when I was so pure
Thinking of times when I was so sure
You were everything I had back then
Sweet lullaby that a bird once sang
I wanted you right here with me
Hope that in time you might just be

Girl you’re the stranger in the sky
You’re the truth in every lie
You were there and I just didn’t see
Only you can set me free
You’re the air moving through my chest
Seeing you gives my mind a rest
Queen of beauty in the months of fall
On your thrown you stand up tall

In the beginning you were just a friend
In her shadow you did once stand
Then your friend just broke my heart
Me and her were meant to be apart
You held my hand and you stood by me
Told me what a good guy I’d be
If I stuck with someone true
Now I wonder if that girl was you

Girl you’re the stranger in the sky
You’re the truth in every lie
You were there and I just didn’t see
Only you can set me free
If I’m wrong then I must confess
When you’re not here my life is all a mess
I’m wondering if it could be
You in love with a guy like me

As I wonder I know I’m wrong