© Cláudia Lancaster

VA10 Two Poems

Today I came on in from the cold street with raindrops all over my body, and went to wash dark grapes for my son, who was hungry – children are always starving – , and because my hands were freezing I took my time sheltering them under warm water.
From my house I see a building being built, a large crane always wobbling and tiny creatures toiling. One looks like a giant and takes hold of all my gaze.
From my window I see trees
some of them already leafless
I hear drivers speeding
and I feel the wind blowing
and from afar I see black smoke, incessantly spewing
restless haunting uncertainties
restless meddling ghosts
restless nations and restless crowds
and the time to which we never thought we would return
I see restless planes flying
never resting not even for thought
I see lightless windows, airless windows
and others without roof to dwell, and roads and seas to be franchised
colours and borders yet to be free
I see so many fascists yet to be tied
and the everlasting sound of passing planes
so many people with no room, not even to scream
and no room in the last flight for salvation
I see that no one knows how to escape
And while the fire is still burning, and the rain is still soaking
I see governments misleading
hugs always promising
and time quickly running
out, top officials letting
go, and so many people believing
so many soldiers for deserting
So many weapons o be buried
and always the same ones profiting
happiness solutions without paying
mouths restlessly lying
and so many truths yet to be unveiled
I see tummies to be soothed
and so so many being fattened
I see freedom to be reclaimed
Lives to be wandered
Happiness in a glance
if not south-bound, then somewhere else
for I will always love you

And while in the night we might fear the cold
with only the starlit sky as a guide
let us begin again and again, restlessly
… from my window I used to see the river!
tic-toc, tic-toc

Ana Borralho

Woody Guthrie had written on his guitar
Waiting for a wish to shoot from the sky
pitch-black sky
Those coming by boat
bring a stranglehold
Someone gasping
A life
filled with air
an air-filled
Waste flies
from beyond
and flies
Sowing the clouds
the clouds
how many do you have
My life is in the Clouds
and they are all so proud
A space tourist has to learn their way around all the shit circling around
I remember, when I was not yet born,
Woody went out one morning
took off his pants in front of everyone and recorded in the ashes
This land is your land, this land is my land
and The Banks are made of marble

João Galante