Caio Cézar de A. Nunes (Brazil)

Caio Cézar de A. Nunes (Brazil)
Poet Profile
A boy from the periphery, a man of the world, Caio has been a Literature and Linguistics teacher for at least eight years.
The reason for teaching and researching language has always been the passion for interaction, for how people talk about their pains, loves, and urges when they look at each other.
With poetry focused on symbols, Caio dives into the ocean of the social, mixing the most genuine feelings of the human cosmos and treating them as something that belongs to the people without any distinction.
With two books published (O Mundo no Meio da Rua & 0:00 – A Poesia do Sereno), Caio got awarded by Editora Vivara Nacional in 2012 as one of the 200 most outstanding young poets in Brazil.
His poetry results in his restlessness and sense of urgency, narrowing the Brazilian and Northeastern way of screaming with the whole body when declaiming.
Caio talks like anyone, from the hill to the asphalt, cutting the excesses of vanity, just flattering the simple in excess.
The name has given to love
No matter how, no matter about
When the first beer shot flows down
Drowns and wets our words.
Perhaps, you already know:
Spiky Wires kill the love by heartache with
no joking.
They surround, encage, and stuck,
Muffle our arms,
Make our love shrink,
Then Make we even keep think
That’s always like that.
The love muffles us like a cop does.
It is love, isn’t it?
Chain which ties and breaks…
Just break!
My mouth speaks about other love
That’s an axe cutting off all kind of fence
Courage-love, who acts without masks,
Without BS,
Who looks at the own scars on the face
Who fully embraces the life’s marks
‘cause this fucked up person who fake
Is gonna fade away.
Courage, love, courage
‘cause the legs are for walking
Jumping fences, crossing gates,
Kicking off the oppression,
Dancing with mates.
Your legs, baby.
Are for enlace mines.
When at this dark road you go through
And go away on and on
‘cause know how is the truth
Every single dawn.
Courage, love, Courage
For dropping off the sores which chase days
Beating down the apathy,
And, of course, the president.
We both know there is a bunch of dements
Who don’t give any shit about we say.
I know it, I’ve heard, I’ve seen.
However, that’s how courage is:
Rebel, thirsty, daring,
Just smashes down everything,
Then when meets love
It becomes something revolutionary.
Courage, love, courage!
Your mouth
Your mouth has a secret!
Tell me all, no fear!
Tell me… I wanna hear you
Come on over here, let me see, too
The tong licking through fears
Warm, burns in wishes
When everything‘s allowed between us.
I know I’m hasty,
Clumsy, sometimes even nasty,
Making mistakes like poetry,
Spending mornings,
Spinning nights,
And don’t agree with any distance
I’m a child delighting his own childhood
Smile on whole face
When kissing, drinking your taste
Singing your love
I’m a baby.
Throughout the back and forth of those lyrics
Stepping by step up those sidewalks of my words
The pavement smells same as you.
Life smell, someone who never dies’ smell.
Washwoman who works all day long
And then washing lavender on the lascivious curves.
You smell like people
Who never forgot us!
That’s why your mouth doesn’t have patience
It´s rebel, strong, intense
Your mouth is lots and lots of people
Singing along the squares:
“get the prices dooooown!
The love is gratis!!!!”
For anything which is revolution
Your mouth screams for evolution
Knock your door and come in
Because of your mouth I’m up for the fight
Because your chest, I’m a guerilla
Your voice on the tubes
Spitting our sex out on the roads
In front of the police station of our own chains
Taking the love over,
Assaulting a whole country
As indecent blowers!
Heley Silva
When you hear which the sun
Won’t bright all the dawns
Just doubt it!
There’s more science than bravery on this
We must to trust on the caterpillar
Its marching,
When it moves piles and piles of mountains of worries
Through the future flying.
I reminded the days
That our breakfasts
Have aimed by talks
About our own goals
And how shameful would be
Wonder our lives denying anyone’s flight.
We always got stucked at our hardest struggles.
It was like thank for the sky
Cause has a sun who dresses itself up with clouds
And its random shapes
Show us a kid faced up.
It was exactly where our dream had parked:
At our fears and our children.
“Sometimes I feel have made the wrong choice, guess so”
You said.
When the pro-sprinter runs the ground disposes the fall every second.
The choice of getting a corner and bump something unexpected is our way to
There is nothing else fresh at the straight line
And that’s why the blind spot explains why we still need more trails…
Yesterday, I didn’t get back on track.
Either do you, by the way.
What the system does is unhuman.
That teacher took her life off saving kids in the fire
And there were more institutionalized cruelty than teaching.
The labor transforming lives in salaries
Freezes our sensibility
And how is shocking naturalize people becoming things…
Worst… false heroes!
I can see… you have another jam, though.
I see how your eyes do when you talk about teaching,
Your passion of guiding kids,
Just being the person who gives flight maps to future butterflies.
It wasn’t a wrong choice, think to myself.
Choices are choices and they depend how much love we use to rise ‘em up.
Do you remember when a kid said to his classmates: “you’re poet, teacher!”
Do you know why?
Because you are a poet, teacher!
At the Oaxaca’s Commune, in two thousand six,
“los maestros” taught on the streets over
The famine of learning
And the sharing desire.
The radiophonic waves spread out “un poquito de tanta verdad”,
And “Los Maestros Valientes”, as you,
Keep creating ways to ruin the system,
And this…
This is one of the most beautiful things in the world.
Discovering entire geographies to destroy castles.
I think I’ll take you with me wherever I go.
I’m quite sure I already take you wherever I go.
In fact, I think I take you into my heart
And two bodies might take a same space up.
Believe that.
There’s more bravery than science on this.

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