sexta-feira, 28 de junho de 2013

Walk Me Home

Inevitable dream,
the loud scream,
someone sings out the world,
we're under the road,
we're left alone.

The power of observation,
I have the mind set to insanity,
we'll all go crazy,
we'll never go home again,
the troubles are over,
the sound from the piano begins.

Let's become the freaks of today,
let's turn our minds high,
time is incomplete,
this place doesn't seem to exist,
we don't want to go home anymore.

Finish it off!
The night is over,
the song is turning my head around,
I need someone to walk me home,
I need someone to say goodbye,
just looking into people's eyes.

Do you think we're alone?
I would like some sensual touch,
but I still need someone,
someone to walk me home.

Ricardo Rodrigues

quinta-feira, 27 de junho de 2013

os céus desconhecidos

sobe, sobe
até os céus te sugarem.
sobe, sobe
até os amores te matarem.

deixa-te levar através dos sentidos naturais,
num sonho turbulento em plena praça silenciosa,
os selvagens são teus amigos,
as florestas são a tua alma;

falem-me de sonhos espirituais,
pensem comigo através das minhas vozes individuais,
nós queremos tudo,
nós merecemos o mundo,
designado para morrer.

quero-te dentro das minhas visões,
até ao fim das mais longas viagens,
onde as noites deixam de nos perturbar,
e as manhãs já não nos pertencem,
os dias são longos,
a música perdura até ao último momento.

onde está a droga da minha alma?
onde estão as pessoas do outro lado?
preciso dos seus corpos,
preciso dos seus génios,
quero que me completem diariamente.

subo até os céus me sugarem,
até os amores me matarem,
e eu desaparecer na dimensão desconhecida
que sempre desejei entrar.

Ricardo Rodrigues

The world is yours

Watch a movie,
Or write a movie.
There are no limits to your imagination,
Only you can set the rules.
You can be heard,
Or you can be silent.
The voice is yours to decide,
You can be free.
You can be free from the chains
Around your mind.

The world is yours to conquer.
You're the real hero from the dreams,
You're the crow from the nights in vain,
You can lose or gain;
The world is yours to desire.

Ricardo Rodrigues

terça-feira, 25 de junho de 2013

Out of Sight

I see the colors,
The purple colored trees,
Sea creatures flying;
We're out of sight.

The blue background,
The red flames in the air,
Stars tremble as I walk,
My thoughts became strange,
And time is running;
We're still out of sight.

Who's there to talk?
Where are the weird people?
We need a place to be ourselves,
We want the whole sea,
We crave for the sky;
We're going home.

The imaginary bus has arrived,
No one will be missed,
We created our own legend,
Given to the world as a token of appreciation.

We need to go,
We'll always have to go:
To the place without rules,
Near the killer with sentiment,
We have to be gone,
Out of sight.

Ricardo Rodrigues

sexta-feira, 21 de junho de 2013

the first page of reality

i want to be beautiful,
i want to be mad,
i want to be tough,
i want to be rough.

i awake the dawn before it's hour,
i slip into the unknown,
and i realize everything;
everything is known.

is there a right time for poetry?
is there a wrong time for sex?
it can be both,
it can be none,
i'm only allowed to believe
what hasn't been done.

the new hour,
the new age;
the age of kings and queens,
of intercouse and intimacy,
where the lovers are poets,
and the mad men are of reason.

and we fled to the town,
we covered ourselves in the woods,
when suddenly i noticed
this is everything but a dream;
reality in the most real form.

we'll fuck the beauty in our minds,
and i'll be allowed to die
in my dreams where nothing roams.

Ricardo Rodrigues

segunda-feira, 17 de junho de 2013

witness the mind

i see the nights in vain
the killer in the ocean
this mellow feeling is the beginning
i'm out of notion
this is the first drop of the potion

waking the trees
watering the fields
the clouds turn red
this is the awakening of Venus
and all the souls have fled

there is a light ahead
the visions inside my head
tell me to enter the void
is there anything at all
take me out
it was the final imagination

i hear psychedelic sounds
is this the true reality
i can't count anymore
i can't speak anymore
breaking the steel
waiting to heal
the wandering mind of my body

waking the nature
the bodies consumed by Venus
the souls hidden forever
this is the only real notion
the final cut
the last drops of freedom

Ricardo Rodrigues

domingo, 9 de junho de 2013

Hoje ainda é cedo

Tantas misturas de emoções,
E eu não sinto nenhuma na minha cara.
São as incertezas nos meus olhos,
São as fraquezas do meu corpo,
É tudo que me põe terrivelmente mal disposto.
Inconsciente do que deva sentir,
As minhas emoções passam a ser de outro,
Perdendo-me, assim, nos pensamentos intemporais
Que a minha mente tanto gosta de criar.

É impossível para mim
Estar sozinho e não cometer loucuras.
Posso estar mal disposto,
E se é assim que estou,
Que seja livre de roupas e coisas insignificantes.
Deixem-me ficar nu;
Nu de mim e de todas as emoções indesejadas,
Ou conhecidas.

Quero viver o desconhecido,
Caminhar por ruas onde nunca caí,
Acordar em locais onde nunca fumei,
Namorar quem me ama,
E nunca deixar-me ficar na cama.
Quero que me desconheçam,
Que me voltem a conhecer sem mim,
Não quero que me vejam assim.

Até que simpatizo com este estado de espírito,
Mas tenho de lhe dizer adeus:
Depois de hoje haverá mais do que isto,
Mais do que um adeus que não me diz nada,
Mais do que uma indisposição emocional,
E mais do que viver com uma tempestade na minha mente.

Amanhã terei que conhecer o mundo inteiro,
Mas hoje estou destinado a morrer numa metáfora.

Ricardo Rodrigues

sábado, 1 de junho de 2013

Lonesome Thoughts

The sun shines as my eyes,
The sun falls from somewhere;
My inspiration comes from the air.

When the eyes come,
And the visions break in:
I'm desperate to begin.

This is the story of an ancient dream,
I'm not here to tell you who I am.
It begins with the sun
Crashing into the morning,
With letters transfigured into fire,
And some of them formed the word:

Where did I come from?
From a mother's womb,
Or from a recent wound?
The origins of this mind
Remain unknown,
And I sense the flavor in my words,
But it tells me to doubt.

The kingdom is far from the ground,
And thoughts are really high,
Nobody gets in or knows about it.
It's a strange, yet, mellow place,
Tranquil and refreshing.
The people in it are imaginary,
The clothes they wear
(There are no clothes there)
And their minds which never deceive.

It's a peaceful place,
Surrounded with growing vibrations,
And suns and moons
That brighten the endless time.
There is no time, actually.
There is no rush in this kingdom,
Or in this mind.

I can run away or slowly stay,
I can think, talk and think again
(Or unexpectedly act);
It's my infinite choice,
My senseless reason.
Justification isn't needed,
And freedom is real;
Real as the skin of my young body,
Real as the irony which is to write,
Real as my crazy but tender imagination.

The art is natural and mysterious;
Paintings that weren't painted,
Poems that weren't written,
Thoughts that I found somewhere,
People that I met in my mind,
Death which is everything except death.
These are only a few
Of the countless desires
In my psychedelic inspiration.

I'm here to speak my mind,
To appreciate the unknown,
To live by the indecent poetry,
To know what no ones knows.

But maybe it's me,
Maybe no one knows
That I'm no one.

Ricardo Rodrigues