i.will.not.fuck.you

ahahah xD

2011-03-28T22:27:00.000+01:00

2011-02-27T21:06:00.001Z

"Não dizia palavras,
Aproximava apenas um corpo interrogante,
Porque ignorava que o desejo é uma pergunta
Cuja resposta não existe (...)"

Luis Cernuda

2011-02-12T14:24:00.004Z

"(...), sentirias que estavas sempre à beira da morte devido à segurança da tua vida, à sua sensatez obstinada, a esse amor protestante pela banalidade; à eterna certeza dos fiéis de que a ostentação e o macabro não são apenas ameaçadores, mas - o que é pior - desinteressantes."

Michael Cunningham, Ao Cair da Noite

heart

2011-02-04T00:08:00.000Z

2010-08-25T22:42:00.000+01:00

composição

2010-08-25T22:39:00.004+01:00

pronto,

2010-08-20T20:06:00.002+01:00

parti-me a rir.

estado actual

2010-07-24T23:58:00.001+01:00

daqui

Lady Lazarus

2010-06-10T20:48:00.003+01:00

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it-----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?-------

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand in foot ------
The big strip tease.
Gentleman , ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Sylvia Plath

The Applicant

2010-06-10T20:36:00.004+01:00

First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit -

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

Sylvia Plath

2010-05-20T21:09:00.000+01:00

LOL

2010-05-09T17:16:00.002+01:00

daqui

2010-03-26T20:28:00.001Z

gostaria de descrever a emoção mais simples
alegria ou tristeza
mas não como os outros fazem
procurando chegar a dardos de chuva ou sol

gostaria de descrever a luz
que está a nascer em mim
mas sei que não se parece
com nenhuma estrela
porque não é tão brilhante
nem tão pura
e é inconstante

gostaria de descrever a coragem
sem arrastar atrás de mim um leão poeirento
e também a ansiedade
sem agitar um copo cheio de água

dizendo de outra maneira
daria todas as metáforas
em troca de uma palavra
arrancada do meu peito como uma costela
por uma palavra
contida dentro dos limites
da minha pele

mas aparentemente isso não é possível

e só para dizer — eu amo
corro em círculos como um louco
apanhando mãos cheias de pássaros
e a minha ternura
que afinal de contas não é feita de água
pergunta à água por um rosto

e a ira
diferente do fogo
pede-lhe emprestada
uma língua loquaz

tudo tão emaranhado
tudo tão emaranhado
em mim
que o senhor de cabelo branco
desfez o emaranhado de uma vez por todas
e disse este é o sujeito
e este é o complemento

adormecemos
com uma mão debaixo da cabeça
e com a outra
num aterro de planetas

os nossos pés abandonam-nos
e tocam a terra
com as suas raízes minúsculas
que de manhã
arrancamos dolorosamente

Zbigniew Herbert

2010-02-27T16:37:00.000Z

apontamento: tardo em escrever-te

2010-02-24T00:37:00.005Z

Tenho pensado em ti.

Naqueles momentos em que a mente divaga sózinha é em ti que penso. E é estranho porque não penso no que somos. Penso em conversas. Penso em gestos. Penso em possibilidades.

Penso em ti porque penso. Porque somos amigos. Mas agora é estranho.

Questionam-me de uma forma a que não sei responder. Andam a introduzir-se ideias estranhas na minha cabeça.

Imagens. Músicas, tantas, tantas melodias.

Tenho pensado em ti. Ensaiado mil diálogos. Encenado situações. Visto a lua intrometer-se em todo o lado.

Outra vez.

Sete Luas

2010-02-18T23:44:00.002Z

Há noites que são feitas dos meus braços
e um silêncio comum às violetas
e há sete luas que são sete traços
de sete noites que nunca foram feitas
Há noites que levamos à cintura
como um cinto de grandes borboletas.
E um risco a sangue na nossa carne escura
duma espada à bainha de um cometa.
Há noites que nos deixam para trás
enrolados no nosso desencanto
e cisnes brancos que só são iguais
à mais longínqua onda de seu canto.
Há noites que nos levam para onde
o fantasma de nós fica mais perto:
e é sempre a nossa voz que nos responde
e só o nosso nome estava certo.

Natália Correia

2010-02-14T20:12:00.000Z

Caroço

2010-02-11T21:52:00.002Z

O caroço deste fruto parece ser apenas
um invólucro frio, incomestível,
sem serventia alguma. Mas esconde
no fundo do seu poço uma vida
destinada a eclodir, mal sinta propício
o agasalho da terra.

Que o mesmo é dizer: está lá dentro
uma morte emboscada.

A.M. Pires Cabral
in As Têmporas da Cinza, Cotovia

Horas vagas

2010-02-08T21:53:00.001Z

A meio deste romance
em que nenhum é chefe
dos afectos, não houve traição
a que soubesse o desejo fugir.
A mentira – passam-se meses
nesse abismo – há-de acabar
por entreter as personagens,
moldar a penumbra
de que se injecta a desilusão.

Voltas para mim,
de casaco debotado, sapatos
cor d'enfim, com mais embustes,
lixo erótico, «sempre tive saudades tuas.»
Já não.

A solidão é um modo
de manter limpo o coração.

Fernando Luís Sampaio
in Escadas de incêndio, Quetzal

Benilde ao balcão 4

2010-02-08T21:45:00.001Z

Não vos contei decerto
que a Senhora Dona Benilde
gosta " de carinho e de falas mansas"
como todos nós, alguns,
e eu à quarta cerveja
recordo-me que te não tive,
acontece, quando a noite cai
e não temos ombros que cheguem

e esbanjamos em cerveja e mijo
o que outros chamaram amor.

Manuel de Freitas
in Game Over, & etc.

Nightswimmer

2010-02-06T14:57:00.002Z

Mal movia os lábios para dizer
o que fosse. Estendido na areia
ainda quente desse verão. Depois
do duche, trocar de roupa, a noite seria
dele e de quem surgisse.
A precisão do corpo ao entrar
na pista, o gel no cabelo, os movimentos
sensuais, os olhos semicerrados
em que se revia mercenário do desejo.

A sua vida era o seu corpo, os sentimentos
uma questão de preço.
O outro, sentado no balcão corrido
dos derrotados, olhava
para as águas mornas do golfo
do méxico, acendia o charuto,
desgarrado da órbita deste mundo,
«o teu corpo, onde raras vezes
cheguei a tempo, transforma a paixão
num dejecto...», anotava alguns versos
fonte de erros para quem ama.

És tão difícil, ruína – já nu antes de adormecer.

Fernando Luís Sampaio
in Escadas de incêndio, Quetzal

2010-01-29T20:15:00.000Z

You and Cinnamon

2010-01-28T13:30:00.001Z

You and cinnamon

A clear deep blue sky.
the sun (oh the sun) on a very cold day.
B&W photographs (specially portraits).
Gray areas.
Talking with friends on a street with a bright big moon over us.
Try to see both sides of everything.
Music (from a simple instrumental melody to epic orchestral tales; sad lyrics to screaming the same silly sentence over and over).
The electric charge I feel whenever I'm close to you.
Walking, just walking around.
Discussing something passionately.
Stare contests (which I allways lose).
Honesty.
An embrace (specially yours) driven by emotion.
The joy and fear I feel when I realize I'm witnessing a unique moment in time.

Carol

fotografia por SarahDeShields

Oh as casas as casas as casas

2010-01-28T12:43:00.002Z

Oh as casas as casas as casas
as casas nascem vivem e morrem
Enquanto vivas distinguem-se umas das outras
distinguem-se designadamente pelo cheiro
variam até de sala pra sala
As casas que eu fazia em pequeno
onde estarei eu hoje em pequeno?
Onde estarei aliás eu dos versos daqui a pouco?
Terei eu casa onde reter tudo isto
ou serei sempre somente esta instabilidade?
As casas essas parecem estáveis
mas são tão frágeis as pobres casas
Oh as casas as casas as casas
mudas testemunhas da vida
elas morrem não só ao ser demolidas
Elas morrem com a morte das pessoas
As casas de fora olham-nos pelas janelas
Não sabem nada de casas os construtores
os senhorios os procuradores
Os ricos vivem nos seus palácios
mas a casa dos pobres é todo o mundo
os pobres sim têm o conhecimento das casas
os pobres esses conhecem tudo
Eu amei as casas os recantos das casas
Visitei casas apalpei casas
Só as casas explicam que exista
uma palavra como intimidade
Sem casas não haveria ruas
as ruas onde passamos pelos outros
mas passamos principalmente por nós
Na casa nasci e hei-de morrer
na casa sofri convivi amei
na casa atravessei as estações
Respirei – ó vida simples problema de respiração
Oh as casas as casas as casas

Ruy Belo
Todos os Poemas
Lisboa, Assírio & Alvim, 2000

2010-01-24T12:15:00.002Z

Life isn’t divided into genres. It’s a horrifying, romantic, tragic, comical, science-fiction cowboy detective novel. You know, with a bit of pornography if you’re lucky.

Alan Moore

For...

2010-01-21T14:19:00.000Z

2010-01-15T19:50:00.002Z

como um espaço desabitado
o corpo faz-se no inventário de silêncios

se eu conto árvores e o frio
para me ocuparem a voz
há muito tempo que as palavras
são a incómoda sensação de vazio

maria sousa

8

2010-01-12T15:37:00.003Z

Porque há dias perfeitos, por não o serem totalmente. Porque há dias em que te sentes feliz simplesmente porque sim.

Sorri.

Casa da Misericórdia

2010-01-10T22:24:00.002Z

"(...)

É como a poesia: um bom poema,
por mais belo que seja, tem de ser cruel.
Não há mais nada. A poesia é agora
a última casa da misericórdia. "

Joan Margarit

The Big Unknown

2010-01-06T20:33:00.000Z

2009-12-23T20:15:00.002Z

"A coisa mais difícil e mais bonita de partilhar entre duas pessoas é o silêncio"

Miguel Sousa Tavares

"I'm Going To Stop Pretending That I Didn't Break Your Heart"

2009-12-23T15:49:00.003Z

Descobri esta música há algum tempo. Naquela altura, naquele momento, esta voz, as palavras, eram o que eu precisava de ouvir. O que precisava que me dissesses.

Passaram anos, 3 ou 4 como na música. O tempo passou. Estamos diferentes, tu e eu. Talvez não assim tanto. Os teus olhos ainda me olham, doces, curiosos, perdidos. O meu coração ainda acelera sempre que te vejo sorrir. Mas mudámos, tu e eu.

Hoje, não sei bem porquê, lembrei-me de ti e esta música fez sentido outra vez...

"I'm gonna tell you what you need to hear
And i'm a little too late
By three or four years
And it may not make much sense
Now that we are apart
But i'm going to stop pretending
That i didn't break your heart

You see i never thought enough of myself
To realize that losing me could mean
Something like the tears in your eyes
And i want to tell you i'm sorry
And it's too late to start
But i'm going to stop pretending
That i didn't break your heart

And it's christmas eve
Years down the line
Sitting here wishing i'd treated you better
When you were mine
And i have no way of knowing where you are
But i'm going to stop pretending
That i didn't break your heart

I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't know what i was doing
But i know what i have done"

Eels

2009-12-23T13:04:00.002Z

tudo no teu sorriso diz
que só te falta um pretexto
para seres feliz

Mário Cesariny

2009-12-22T20:05:00.002Z

Não sei se me interessei pelo rapaz
por ele se interessar por estrelas
se me interessei por estrelas por me interessar
pelo rapaz hoje quando penso no rapaz
penso em estrelas e quando penso em estrelas
penso no rapaz como me parece
que me vou ocupar com estrelas
até ao fim dos meus dias parece-me que
não vou deixar de me interessar pelo rapaz
até ao fim dos meus dias
nunca saberei se me interesso por estrelas
se me interesso por um rapaz que se interessa
por estrelas já não me lembro
se vi primeiro as estrelas
se vi primeiro o rapaz
se quando vi o rapaz vi as estrelas

adília lopes

Young Lions

2009-12-21T17:44:00.002Z

Roses in the car
Roses in the car
Bony saddle, bony street
Corrugated iron sheet
This bed is not concrete
This bed in which you sleep
Flesh is flesh til blood runs cold
And blood is blood, so I am told

Your carbon makes a star
Your carbon makes a star
And after all, that's all we are
After all, that's all we are
That's all we are
That's all we are
That's all we are

All these young men, these young lions
All these young men, these young lions

You don't know if it's true
Or if to believe in you
There are tunnels through the stone
Where weaker hearts have made a home

Their roses in a car
Their roses in a car
And after all that's all we are
After all that's all we are
And isn't it bizarre
The adults that we are
Still playing
Follow the leader

Body don't break
Body don't break
Body don't break
Til broken
Body gonna make
Body gonna make
Body gonna make
Another body
Don't want to be the last to leave

The Maccabees

Mental notel:

2009-12-20T20:40:00.002Z

When it comes to friends, allways follow your heart.

Realist...?

2009-12-14T23:52:00.001Z

2009-11-24T09:39:00.002Z

N E V E R

hide your monsters

(they grow in the dark...)

2009-11-24T09:35:00.001Z

A inteligência não se finge e o silêncio nem sempre significa compreensão.

Carol

2009-11-17T22:21:00.002Z

There's a book called
"A Dictionary of Angels."
No one has opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered
The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.
Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.
She's very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.

Charles Simic

(a) contratempos

2009-11-11T21:27:00.000Z

2009-11-09T18:52:00.002Z

hoje chove muito, muito,
dir-se-ia que estão a lavar o mundo.
o meu vizinho do lado vê a chuva
e pensa em escrever uma carta de amor
uma carta à mulher com quem vive
e lhe faz a comida e lava a roupa e faz amor com ele
e se parece com a sua sombra
o meu vizinho nunca diz palavras de amor à mulher
entra em casa pela janela e não pela porta
por uma porta entra-se em muitos sítios
no trabalho, no quartel, na prisão,
em todos os edifícios do mundo
mas não no mundo
nem numa mulher
nem na alma
quer dizer
nessa caixa ou nave ou chuva que chamamos assim
como hoje
que chove muito
e me custa escrever a palavra amor
porque o amor é uma coisa e a palavra amor é outra coisa
e só a alma sabe onde as duas se encontram
e quando
e como
mas que pode a alma explicar?
por isso o meu vizinho tem tempestades na boca
palavras que naufragam
palavras que não sabem que há sol porque nascem e morrem na mesma noite em que ele amou
e deixam cartas no pensamento que ele nunca escreverá
como o silêncio que existe entre duas rosas
ou como eu
que escrevo palavras para regressar
ao meu vizinho que vê a chuva
e à chuva
ao meu coração desterrado

Juan Gelman

imagens por .voadora. (http://www.flickr.com/photos/voadora/)

Before Sunrise...

2009-11-08T11:38:00.003Z

awkward looks and conversations, the material for new relationships...

2009-11-07T15:10:00.001Z

2009-11-06T18:41:00.001Z

O que se considera cegueira do destino é, na realidade, miopia própria.

William Faulkner

Not Dark Yet

2009-10-31T21:24:00.001Z

Shadows are falling and I've been here all day
It's too hot to sleep time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal
There's not even room enough to be anywhere
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there

Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain
She wrote me a letter and she wrote it so kind
She put down in writing what was in her mind
I just don't see why I should even care
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there

Well, I've been to London and I've been to gay Paree
I've followed the river and I got to the sea
I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes
Sometimes my burden seems more than I can bear
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there

I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still
Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from
Don't even hear a murmur of a prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.

Bob Dylan

2009-10-25T12:29:00.001Z

Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share.

Mark Z. Danielewski

note to self:

2009-10-25T12:23:00.000Z

Lidocaine

2009-10-24T17:35:00.002+01:00

Lidocaine, thanks so much for taking away the pain that I tried so hard to evade

Lidocaine, thanks so much for making me feel sane, and all these people seem a little bit less lame

everyone needs to escape their pain x2

Lidocaine, oh i'm just so god damned glad you came and you remembered my first name

everyone needs to escape their pain x2

(singing)ohhhh Lidocaine

[Break]

Lidocaine, You and I are kinda the same

we both get bored and everything seems like too much for our little brains

so we get on a little train to try and find some kind of change

but everywhere we go is the same

every face, even planes that take us far and take is while

we always try to hide

cause everything we know is a lie

and everyone we know has died

at least 3 times i say it more

we always find the flaw

and everyone looks at us with that grin, woa woa

The Silent Years

2009-10-22T22:25:00.002+01:00

"Nascemos para morrer,

Conhecemos pessoas para as perder,

Possuímos coisas para as deixarmos para trás."

Ditado Budista

2009-10-18T16:02:00.001+01:00

gravamos os momentos com a memória para que se esbatam os pormenores?

Carol

2009-10-18T15:54:00.002+01:00

"You can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another"

Ernest Hemingway

2009-10-17T14:40:00.003+01:00

A verdadeira ternura
não se confunde com mais nada.
E é silêncio.

Anna Akhmátova

There's an arrow pointed at your chest

2009-10-14T22:05:00.001+01:00

There's an arrow pointed at your heart.
You see it there, in front of you,
so clearly.
You wait the moment,
You know it's coming
But the time drags, mocking you.

There's an arrow pointed at your heart.
You see the path that brought you here
And although the end is closing in,
Your choices remain murky,
No enlightment befalls you.

There's an arrow pointed at your heart,
Fierce eyes behind it
(your own, scarred, reflecting on them).
You see the tension on the string,
And the strong hand that holds it.
You start to wish to see it free.

There's an arrow pointed at your heart.
The head is sharp
(the sun shining on its edge).
The head is near
(you can sense the marked spot on your chest)
So you start to wander how will it feel...

There's an arrow pinned in your heart.
The string still vibrates,
As you tremble and quiver.
Hand down, the eyes look so diferent now...
And the blood on your chest feels so sweet.

Maybe love is not overrated.

Carol

O poeta chorava...

2009-10-12T23:03:00.001+01:00

O poeta chorava
o poeta buscava-se todo
o poeta andava de pensão em pensão
comia mal tinha diarreias extenuantes
mas buscava uma estrela (talvez a salvação?)
O poeta era sinceríssimo honesto total
raras vezes tomava o eléctrico
em podendo
voltava
não podendo
ver-se-ia
tudo mais ou menos
a cair de vergonha
mais ou menos
como os ladrões

E agora o poeta começou por rir
rir de vós ó manutensores
da afanosa ordem capitalista
depois comprou jornais foi para casa leu tudo
quando chegou à página dos anúncios
o poeta teve um vómito que lhe estragou
as únicas que ainda tinha
e pôs-se a rir do lôgro, é um tanto sinistro,
mas é inevitável, é um bem, é uma dádiva.

Tirai-lhe agora os versos que êle mesmo despreza,
negai-lhe o amor que êle mesmo abandona,
caçai-o entre a multidão.
Subsistirá. É pior do que isso.
Prendei-o. Viverá de tal forma
que as próprias grades farão causa com êle.
E matá-lo não é solução.
O poeta
O Poeta
O POETA
destroi-vos

Mário Cesariny

Oh how I love the Autumn...

2009-10-12T19:37:00.002+01:00

Mutts by Patrick McDonnell

http://muttscomics.com/

2009-10-10T15:45:00.001+01:00

Melhor seria que não me lessem nunca
os que por costume lêem poesia.
Muito além deles conseguir falar
ao que chega a casa e prefere o álcool,
a música de acaso, a sombra de alguém
com o silêncio das situações ajustadas.

Não ser lido por quem lê. Somente
pelos que procuram qualquer coisa
rugosa e rápida a caminho de uma revista
onde fotografaram todo o ludíbrio da felicidade.
Que um poema meu lhes pudesse entregar,
ademais da morte,
um alívio igual ao de atirar os sapatos
que tanto apertam os pés desencaminhados.

Mais do que tudo é isso que lhes quero
na confusão destas palavras atingidas
pelo contrário do que lhes entrego.
Pode até haver crianças, brinquedos espalhados,
o cheiro da comida, todas essas coisas de que fujo,
mas que me lessem sem pensar
na armadilha de palavras assim.

Alguém que me visitasse só
com o que ficou para trás nesse dia,
antes de pôr o vídeo com que vai tentar
esquecer o peso do princípio da noite,
as horas depois do emprego e do jantar,
antes do sono que tantas vezes é
um fechamento do desconsolo.

Estrelas cadentes, outras e outras
no dia? na noite tão curta? decepadas
e enaltecidas por entre o ladrar
de um cão que na distância
responde a outro cão.

Joaquim Manuel Magalhães

Linhas Cruzadas

2009-10-05T23:32:00.003+01:00

Reajo a esse incómodo olhar, nem quero acreditar
Que vem na minha direcção
Há dias que estou a reparar, nem queres disfarçar
Roubas a minha atenção
Aprecio o teu dom de tornar, nao clico o meu falar
Numa total confusão
Confesso que só de imaginar, que te vou encontrar
Me sobe à boca o coração

E falas de ti, falas do tempo
Prolongas o momento. dum simples cumprimentar
Falas do dia, falas da noite
Nem sei que responda, perdido no teu olhar

É certo que sempre ouvi dizer, que do querer ao fazer
Vai um enorme esticão
Mas haverá quem possa negar, que querer é poder
E o nunca é uma invenção
Bem sei que este nosso cruzar, pode até nem passar
Dum capricho sem valor
Mas porque raio hei-de evitar, se esse teu ar
Me trouxe ao sangue calor

E falas de ti, falas do tempo
Prolongas o momento. dum simples cumprimentar
Falas do dia, falas da noite
Nem sei que responda

E falas de ti, falas do tempo
Prolongas o momento. dum simples cumprimentar
Falas do dia, falas da noite
Nem sei que responda, perdido no teu olhar

Virgem Suta

obrigada Julinha ^^

2009-10-03T15:44:00.003+01:00

procurem-me nas palavras.algures a meio de um verso havemos de nos encontrar

fotografia por http://www.flickr.com/photos/whateveryou/

"Ouvi dizer"

2009-09-30T00:18:00.004+01:00

"Fui eu quem virou as páginas

Na pressa de chegar até nós."

Ornatos Violeta

2009-09-28T22:25:00.001+01:00

Numa altura de mudança. Numa viagem. Encontro nas palavras de outro, o sentido que não encontrava.
Numa cidade que não a que me viu crescer, pergunto-me: onde me perdi? Onde no tempo, onde em mim?

2009-09-26T11:31:00.003+01:00

Através de abandonados sonhos faltam
sempre títulos aos poemas, folhas que não
posso esquecer
a vigorosa voz dos cantos, a velocidade
com que no quadro branco do coração se
imprime o traço,
a cor do desejo desenhado.
Através dos abandonados sonhos surge o
conhecimento do nome
de outros nomes a marcada
obscura fala;
o declínio e a queda trazem as casas da
aldeia no mais comum pulsar. Erguem e
sofrem a própria mudança. Estendem-se pela
variada cor, longas escalas gravadas no
vidro e nos prados da manhã
vão lançando limites nos limites do
seu querer.

João Miguel Fernandes Jorge

Civilization

2009-09-24T22:33:00.000+01:00

Somewhere between the darkness and light
Faces all glow but its not too bright
Civilization, its all about knives and forks

Isn't she here? What time is it now?
Is this the right place? Do I fit with her crowd?
I'm gonna be a civilized man someday

Part of me wants to jump and shout
Part of me wants to tear it down
I thought you might prefer the cabernet

Civilization, its all about sex
Havin' a ball in a padded banquet
I'm gonna be that really cool guy someday

The waiter looks me over
Would you like cream or sugar?
I don't know - what was I supposed to say

She wonders if I'll notice
I should have brought some roses
Her plate is full, she hasn't eaten all day

Glasses collect we order some booze
She looks at me, I stare at her shoes
Mature situations, maybe a broken heart

Maybe I ought to pay the bill
Maybe she thinks I never will
A million things that cross a woman's mind

Just be yourself, well that's what they say
I barely know who I was yesterday
I'm gonna be that civilized guy someday

Good friends and conversations
The rise and fall of nations
A moments glory and they've had their day

And on my high school folder
I drew a big gorilla
Something familiar, something far, far away

Somewhere between the darkness and light
She touches my hand, she don't seem to mind
We can go home, we can be civilized

David Byrne

2009-09-21T23:38:00.001+01:00

Conta as minhas palavras e diz que me amas. Conta os pontos finais que nos separam e procura-me, no fim. Não há palavras descuidadas, apenas pensamentos deixados por dizer. Tantos olhares deflectidos. Atracções por explicar. oh, se a empatia chegasse, não sofreria...

2009-09-17T22:37:00.000+01:00

2009-09-17T21:09:00.001+01:00

Desventurados os que avistaram
uma rapariga no Metro

e se apaixonaram de repente
e a seguiram enlouquecidos

e a perderam para sempre entre a multidão

Porque serão condenados
a vaguear sem rumo pelas estações

e a chorar com as canções de amor
que os músicos ambulantes cantam nos túneis

E se calhar o amor não é mais do que isso:

uma mulher ou um homem que sai de uma carruagem
numa qualquer estação de Metro

e resplandece por uns segundos
e desaparece na noite sem nome

Óscar Hahn

Fotografia Antiga

2009-09-15T22:52:00.002+01:00

Tu vagueias na profundidade do campo
Que vem dar ao quarto onde eu dantes trabalhava
E de tempos em tempos
Olhas para cima para ver se te estou a espreitar.
Até hoje
Os teus braços estão cheios das flores silvestres
De que estavas tão enamorada.

Ian Hamilton

Metáfora

2009-09-15T22:29:00.003+01:00

As tuas sombras florescem agora ao pé da cama
E desbotam
Os últimos factos irritados.
No teu roupão oriental,
As borboletas douradas, presas às suas folhas de seda,
Sofrem com a súbita escuridão à tua porta.
Falas de borboletas, dos seus luxos, seus engenhos
E do seu cativeiro.
Dizes
«Nós vivemos nestas analogias.»

O rumor da água treme no lábio
Deste copo que estás prestes a esmagar;
As tuas cortinas ardem como ondulados escudos
Por estes campos de neve no fim de Setembro
Que te vão matando.

Ian Hamilton

fotografia por DemonicxxGirl (Deviantart)

Love Machine

2009-09-14T19:29:00.002+01:00

Ladies you're damn right
You can't read a man's mind
We're living in two tribes
And heading for war
Nobody's perfect
We've all got to work it
But fellas we're worth it
So don't break the law

Your call's late
Big mistake
You've gotta hang about in limbo for as long as I take
Next time
Read my mind
And I'll be good to you
We're gift wrapped
Kitty cats
We only turn into tigers when we've got to fight
(Right)
Let's go
Eskimo
Out into the blue

Come take my hand
Understand
That you can
You're my man
And i need you tonight
Come make my dreams
Honey hard as it seems
Lovin' me
Is as easy as pie

I'm just a love machine
Feeding my fantasy
Give me a kiss or three
and I'm fine
I need a squeeze a day
Instead of this negligee
What will the neighbors say
This time

I've been goin' crazy while you sleep
Thinkin' of a language that the two of us can speak
So Mr. Prehistoric make your wheel
and I'll be underwater 'cause i like the way it feels

(I said) Your call's late
Big mistake
You've gotta hang about in limbo for as long as I take
Next time
Read my mind
And I'll be good to you
We're gift wrapped
Kitty cats
We only turn into tigers when we've got to fight
(Right)
Let's go
Eskimo
Out into the blue

Come take my hand
Understand
That you canYou're my man
And i need you tonight
Come make my dreams
Honey hard as it seems
Lovin' me
Is as easy as pie

I'm just a love machine
Feeding my fantasy
Give me a kiss or three
And I'm fine
I need a squeeze a day
Instead of this negligee
What will the neighbors say
This time

Oh
It's very new
Can anybody tell me what to do
Oh
This feeling's very strange
Can anybody tell me what's your game

Oh
A little education
Oh
To give me motivation
Oh
We'll turn the situation
'round

Oh
Oh
Making you a stranger
Oh
I'll only rearrange you
For now

(Oh) I'm just a love machine
Oh
So give me motivation
(Oh) I'm just a love machine

(Oh) I'm just a love machine
Oh
So give me motivation
(Oh) I'm just a love machine

2009-09-13T21:06:00.003+01:00

Na simplicidade me encontro. Em tardes que se arrastam... em palavras.

2009-09-03T20:39:00.001+01:00

há mãos assim, que de castas,

como as tuas,

prolongam o tempo que há dentro da cor,

e trazem o lume e o brilho da sombra

com que as horas desenham o despojo da luz.

Emanuel Jorge Botelho

2009-08-30T18:22:00.002+01:00

A tua vida é uma história triste.

A minha é igual à tua.

Presas as mãos e preso o coração,

enchemos de sombra a mesma rua.

A nossa casa é onde a neve aquece.

A nossa festa, onde o luar acaba.

Cada verso em nós próprios apodrece,

cada jardim nos fecha a sua entrada.

Eugénio de Andrade

A Good Start

2009-08-29T15:57:00.004+01:00

You're one with the burdon of intuition.
You're one with the freedom of a blank stare.
You're one with the best friend you lost,
You wish was still there.

You're one with the dust on that old piano.
You're one with the strings on your new guitar.
You're one with the wind through the open window,
You are.

It was a faint line that brought you here,
And a pulse that kept you in time.
It was the comfort of a tradition,
Like the few that were not that kind.

It's a shame now, baby, you can't see yourself,
And everything you're running from.
And it's the same world, honey, that has brought you down,
As the one that's gonna pick you up.
And pick you up.

You're one with the echos of conversation.
You're one with the strangers you overheard.
You're one with the lesson that was the best one you learned.

It was a faint line that brought you here,
And a pulse that kept you in time.
It was the comfort of a tradition,
Like the few that were not that kind.

It's a shame now, baby, you can't see yourself,
And everything you're running from.
And it's the same world, honey, that has brought you down,
As the one that's gonna pick you up.
And pick you up.

It was a long, dark, sleepy morning walk.
You fell down, case and point.
It was a good start.
It was a good start.

It was a long, dark, sleepy morning walk.
You fell down, case and point.
It was a good start.
It was a good start.

It's a shame now, baby, you can't see yourself,
And everything you're running from.
And it's the same world, honey, that has brought you down,
As the one that's gonna pick you up.

And it's a shame now, baby, you can't separate
Yourself from where you stood.
And it's the same world, honey, that made you feel so bad,
That makes you feel so good.
Feel so good.

Maria Taylor

Why?

2009-08-25T21:13:00.001+01:00

I think no one ever keeps a photograph of something they want to forget...

Oh fuck...!

2009-08-14T22:20:00.000+01:00

Can you hear me now?

2009-08-14T22:02:00.001+01:00

Caminho para a felicidade

2009-08-06T17:47:00.004+01:00

or so they tell me ...

Pioneer To The Falls

2009-08-02T20:32:00.003+01:00

Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
You vanish with no guile
And I will not pay
But the soul can wait
The soul can wait

Well it is still pretty wet
With all these leaks
We’ll be fine
We’ll be fine

But if it’s still pretty wet
With all these leaks
We'll be fine, oh
And supervised

Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
And you vanish with no guile
And I will not pay
But the soul can wait
I felt you so much today

I know you try
You tried straight into my heart
You fly straight into my heart
Girl, I know you try
You fly straight into my heart
You fly straight into my heart
But here comes the fault...

So much for make believe,
I'm not sold
So much of dreams deceive, I'm not prepared to know
Your heart makes me feel
Your heart makes me bold
For always and ever,
I'll never let go
Always concealed
Safe and inside, alive!

Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
In a passion it broke
I pull the black from the grey
But the soul can wait
I felt you so much today...

Interpol

Obstacle 1

2009-08-02T18:14:00.002+01:00

(...)

She puts the weights into my little heart,

And she gets in my room and she takes it apart.

She puts the weights into my little heart,

I said she puts the weights into my little heart.
(...)

Interpol

In The Morning

2009-07-31T19:13:00.001+01:00

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong
Maybe I’ve been here too long
The songs on the radio sound the same
Everybody just looks the same
But then last night was so much fun
And now your sheets are dirty
The streets are dirty too but
You never look back on what you’re gonna do

Remember when you were young
You’d lose yourself
In the morning, you know you won’t remember a thing

In the morning, you know it’s gonna be alright
I wake him up when I’m up
When I’m on the stage, well
A boy can’t help it, it’s not his fault
Just a dangerous dangerous thing
But then every night’s still so much fun
And you’re still out at dawn
I’m clinging on to the wrong ideas but
I never regret anything I’ve done

Remember when you were young
You’d lose yourself I
n the morning you know he won’t remember a thing
In the morning you know it’s gonna be alright

In the morning, you know he won’t remember a thing
In the morning, you know it’s gonna be all. . .
In the morning, you know he won’t remember a thing
In the morning, you know it’s gonna be all…
In the morning, you know he won’t remember a thing
In the morning, you know it’s gonna be alright

Are you really gonna do it this time?
Are you really gonna do it this time?
Are you really gonna do it this time?
Are you really gonna do it this time?

You’ve got got to do it this time
Are you really gonna do it do it do what?
Are you really gonna do it do it do it yeah
Are you really gonna do it what

In the morning you know he won’t remember a thing
No not a thing and
In the morning you know he won’t remember a thing

Razorlight

2009-07-31T12:14:00.002+01:00

There's an old woman inside me. So, so scared of the world. So afraid of truely living. She's a prisioner of Fait. She's trapped inside herself by ancient superstitions. She sees the world but does not seize it. So many barriers around her twisting her view of reality. She has never achieved anything, all her dreams were left unattended.

I feel like an old woman who's eyes still glisten with youth. I feel her crawled up deep within me and she has taught me nothing but despair.

Carol

2009-07-29T13:39:00.000+01:00

You can’t measure the mutual affection of two human beings by the number of words they exchange.

Milan Kundera

Oh so true....!

2009-07-26T21:26:00.001+01:00

"Acid Jazz Singer"

2009-07-26T17:36:00.004+01:00

Well let me tell you something let me tell you so
This could be the one thing that you really need to know
You got to stop once in a while
And shake off that face of yours
Cause nothing comes easy no it just comes free
You could sing it better if you'd sing it for me oh sister

Well I cannot claim this advice as my own
I learned it in the gutter one night coming home
She said "Don't you look ridiculous"
I checked her out meticulously
I don't wanna stop to argue but my
Teeth were broke
I said " I'd love to contradict you
But my life's a joke oh sister"

She said I'm no genius and I've lost myself
The books are on the table and the secret's on the shelf
And it's one time keep it slow wind them up and here we go
Get it right today and you may still be here tomorrow
Some said she was saintly to some she was a swinger
Me I only knew her as an acid jazz singer come on

Well I'm a lucky man and maybe so is she
And maybe this is just the way it has to be
It's all based on speculation seems a crazy occupation to me
And though I didn't much believe her I was bound to call
I really didn't want to miss a single thing at all oh sister

She said I'm no genius and I've lost myself
The books are on the table and the secret's on the shelf
And it's one time keep it slow wind them up and here we go
Get it right today and you may still be here tomorrow
Some said she was saintly to some she was a swinger
Me I only knew here as an acid jazz singer come on

She said I'm no genius and I've lost myself
The books are on the table and the secret's on the shelf
And it's one time keep it slow wind them up and here we go
Get it right today and you may still be here tomorrow
Some said she was saintly to some she was a swinger
Me I only knew here as an acid jazz singer
I haven't seen her lately man I have to ring her
Put your hands together for the Acid jazz singer come on ...

The Fratellis

2009-07-25T15:33:00.003+01:00

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.

Carl Sagan

When insults had class...

2009-07-25T15:13:00.003+01:00

“He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.”— Winston Churchill

“A modest little person, with much to be modest about.”— Winston Churchill

“I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.”— Clarence Darrow

“He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.”— William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)

“Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?”— Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)

“Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I’ll waste no time reading it.”— Moses Hadas

“He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know.”— Abraham Lincoln

“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.”— Groucho Marx

“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.”— Mark Twain

“He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.”— Oscar Wilde

“I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend…. if you have one.”— George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill

“Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second… if there is one.”— Winston Churchill, in response

“I feel so miserable without you; it’s almost like having you here.”— Stephen Bishop

“He is a self-made man and worships his creator.”— John Bright

“I’ve just learned about his illness. Let’s hope it’s nothing trivial.”— Irvin S. Cobb

“He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others.”— Samuel Johnson

“He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up.”— Paul Keating

“He had delusions of adequacy.”— Walter Kerr

“There’s nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won’t cure.”— Jack E. Leonard

“He has the attention span of a lightning bolt.”— Robert Redford

“They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge.”— Thomas Brackett Reed

“He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent hard work, he overcame them.”— James Reston (about Richard Nixon)

“In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily.”— Charles, Count Talleyrand

“He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.”— Forrest Tucker

“Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?”— Mark Twain

“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.”— Mae West

2009-07-24T20:53:00.001+01:00

Dancing: the vertical expression of a horizontal desire legalized by music.

George Bernard Shaw

2009-07-23T18:51:00.000+01:00

O poeta e o mundo

2009-07-22T12:12:00.003+01:00

Podem pedir-me, em vão,

Poemas sociais,

Amor de irmão pra irmão

E outras coisas mais:

Falo de mim – só falo

Daquilo que conheço.

O resto... calo

E esqueço.

António Manuel Couto Viana

"And I Remember Every Kiss"

2009-07-22T10:41:00.004+01:00

(...)

But I swear I'll never kiss anyone

who doesn't burn me like the sun

(...)

Jens Lekman

2009-07-20T20:14:00.002+01:00

The colors…oh, I see the most fantastic things. Do you realize when people just close their eyes what they see? It’s unbelievable. Colors and things, forms of every sort. I wonder if that happens for everybody?

Edie Sedgwick, Inner and Outer Space

2009-07-20T20:02:00.002+01:00

In a place far away from anyone or anywhere, I drifted off for a moment.

Haruki Murakami

2009-07-19T21:09:00.003+01:00

E se não formos mais do que farrapos de emoções e repetições de erros de outras vidas?

Carol

2009-07-18T13:04:00.004+01:00

"Love is supposed to move mountains, to make the world go round, to be all you need, but it falls apart at the details. It can’t save a single person."

Jodi Picoult

2009-07-16T19:27:00.007+01:00

Am I rambling if I say "I want you"?

Love echoes, you know?

Carol

breakfast

2009-07-16T19:12:00.002+01:00

2009-07-07T21:07:00.001+01:00

2009-07-01T22:15:00.001+01:00

Forever is composed of nows.

Emily Dickinson

2009-07-01T22:09:00.001+01:00

The seven types of ordinary hapiness

2009-06-30T22:47:00.003+01:00

1. Secret happiness which is steady but beautifully delicate.
2. Three minutes of happiness borrowed from a dog
3. Traditional laying down happiness
4. The happiness which comes from staring at a rock
5. Happiness blended with a mysterious sadness
6. The strange happiness associated with seeing a meteorite or a shooting star
7. Diffuse, residual happiness from rhythmic tasks such as washing the dishes

Leunig