And I am going to go there
Before this reality
(Where I have lived)
Turns into a nightmare.
And this sky, so clear,
Is not what it means:
White, instead of peace,
Forgotten transmits.
Blue, instead of calm,
Dips a previous mourn;
And the sun, so brightful,
Hits me fooly, dully...
It's not still enough
To make me a statue
It just happen would
Whether my brain wash up...
Toward them, couturiers
Of all points of the plots
Which, in the darkness,
Composes people's leer.
There is still time,
But it is so hard
To avoid, to foresee
The end of this beginning:
“New black ship will
flow
Through South Atlantic
sea...”
“And it'll take all our
gold
To the North of this
sea...”
“An Old Era will begin
again:
The managers will sell our
land
To the North Metropolitan
lords
And will lend money to
rent it all..”
“Money, which will come
from us,
New capitalist slave
labours
(Independently of our skin
tone),
Who will only get the
bitter flavour..
In our mouth from the work
we'll do...”
“Oh my God, I really do
not want it”
“I do not want to live
all into
This life I pre saw so
much ugly:”
“Working and salary
under taxes
Working and salary under
interest
Working and salary under
healthiness
Working and salary to get
under life”.
I, urgently, want to go
there,
To live how I am living
now.
And I want to avoid this
nightmare:
The Hell Living in a land,
so tropical.
(Leandro Monteiro)
