There will be those who choose the harmful path, for they dwell in their superficial misery (self-absorbed) and continue to be blind to the deeper malignancy that needs to be healed the most. Personally, I remain sympathetic and compassionate, and I can either point the way towards a more life enhancing path, or walk away with the love in my heart intact, if they’re not ready and choose to continue the suffering. As Robert A. Wilson would say “but I don’t feel any masochistic duty to share their misery…. ♥ Photo: Frida Kahlo      Continue reading Choice

In a random page commas ran loose the words flowed crooked verses composed the story in a dark corner in Congonhas do Campo citycarmine red lips touchedand paints on the balconiestwo pairs of eyes and cold and sweet voices What is your name? in a dark corner inescapably the fingers escaped, timid and the pure sound of the mountains and the light of the heaven (bright by the full moon) The night was reciting the verses of Quintana… © Copyright Bia Esmer  Art: ‘Um beco em Ouro Preto’ by Edgar Walter Continue reading Congonhas do Campos city

I feed myself of words, those that my soul needs. In the depths of simplicity, I allow myself to sink in them, expand within them. And in the bottom of myself, I wake up all the residents of my rooms for a bountiful supper and make a toast with wine in contemplation with life. I just want to be grateful to it throughout its divinity. I need to eat enough, never too much, because I am hungry beyond the worldly passions, I need to feed myself from the mouth of the knowledge, mortal spirits, passersby, the energy that comes from … Continue reading Words: felt and satiated

Sharing oneself is love, but true love exists in fantasy, in poetry and I had convinced myself poetry doesn’t really exist…so I was missing nothing. How does one miss something that isn’t? Then strangely I met other dreamers, a steady trickle of dreaming souls flooding into my secluded seemingly content pond. I seem to have drawn them into my life with an intensity that will make my dams break, making me question my disbelief in my own insanity….my need to be insane awakens once more, wants to break the shackles that bind it and rise, fly, soar once again…to lose … Continue reading Human poetry….