um exagerado

De repente tomo um banho de realidade
e perco metade do meu peso,
nenhuma roupa me serve,
nenhum corte me fica bem.

São precisos 15 minutos para começar a estragar tudo,
o pequeno almoço demora imenso tempo,
cada trinca é um paladar diferente
e o meu cérebro não pára,
penso, imagino, viajo, viajo muito.

Saio para o trabalho já cansado,
já passei por muitos países,
lembrei-me de muitas pessoas,
vivi muitas vidas.

Cada pessoa conhecida que vejo é uma descoberta,
ou é o cabelo que brilha de forma diferente,
ou um delicioso sinal em que nunca reparei,
um tom de voz cheio de amizade.

À noite quando chego já peso o dobro,
durante o sono triplico o meu peso.

De manhã volto a esvaziar o corpo,
e saio cheio de fome.


cdapluma

sempre actual

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Bob Dylan, 1963

pic by mental

o que fazer?

"Patience is a minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue."
Ambrose Bierce

pic por pyromaniac

aprender a pensar

O rapaz tem no máximo 3 anos e com uma felicidade contagiante entrou pela sala para comunicar a sua grande descoberta aos pais:
"papá! mamã! olhem para mim, eu consigo falar sem abrir a boca!"
"Querem ver?"
E com, um sorriso gigante no olhar, cerrou os lábios e ficou silencioso a demonstrar o seu grande feito.

Um momento único, aquele em que uma criança ouve pela primeira vez os seus pensamentos.

Não conheço o heroi desta história que me chegou ao ouvido através de uma amiga, e dava tudo para ter estado presente.

Delicoso.

Hoje já ganhei o dia.

saudades do futuro

All my life, i worshipped her
Her golden voice, her beauty's beat
How she made us feel
How she made me real
And the ground beneath her
And now i can't be sure of anything
Black is white, and cold is heat
For what i worshipped stole my love away
It was the ground beneath her feet
Go lightly down your darkened way
Go lightly underground
I'll be down there in another day
I won't rest until you're found
Let me love you true, let me rescue you
Let me lead you to where two roads meet
O come back above
Where there's only love
And the ground beneath her feet

Salman Rushdie


art by: pho3nix-bf

a uma amiga

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron

regatos

"(...) todas estas pessoas são penitentes, aspiram ardemente livrar-se de um fardo que nunca carregaram. Elas fazem tudo e mais alguma coisa, excepto ficar tranquilamente sentadas a olhas para dentro de si mesmas.

Os que empregam tais técnicas assemelham-se a regatos de montanha que estão a mil léguas do mar. Como eles grulham, gorgolejam e apressam-se, e depois, vadiam e se despenham de maneira espectacular em profundos precipícios! Com que cólera estes regatos se despedeçam sobre enormes blocos de pedra, e, em seguida, sugam as suas presas em traiçoeiros turbilhões.

Mas à medida que o curso da água se alarga, ele apazigua-se e toma consciência do seu objectivo. Torna-se um rio. Então, que calma, que silêncio! Com que majestade ele avança ao encontro do seu distino, sem nunca dar impressão de rapidez; ao acercar-se do Oceano já nem sequer parece mexer-se".


John Blofeld

sorrow

These chains of sorrow, they are heavy, it is true
And these locks cannot be broken,no, not with one thousand keys
O Jailer, you drag a ball-n-chain you cannot see
You can lay your burden on me
You can lay your burden down on me
You can lay your burden down upon me
But you cannot lay down your memory

Nick Cave - Knockin' On Joe

Cave's deviation by *fresvik

I'm too sad to tell you

Ela é o prazer de uma descoberta,
a paz de um abraço,
o orgulho de um hino,
a razão de um sacrifício,
o retrato de um coração,
o papel de uma caneta,
a camisa velha que não deixas de usar,

Ela és tu,
é a cadeira em que te sentas,
o carinho que precisas,
a família que não te falta,
o cabelo que voa ao vento,
o carro que te leva,
a nuvem que te sobrevoa,
o Deus que te ajuda.

Ela é o comando da tua televisão,
a dobradiça da tua porta,
a letra da tua música preferida,
a marca da tua cerveja,
a cortina que tapa o sol quando dormes,
o livro que queres escrever,
a orquídea que queres criar,
o centro da tua explosão.

Ela é o sapo que não quer ser príncipe,
o anão que se apaixonou pela branca de neve,
a música escondida de um CD,
a pena que águia deixa cair,
a única coluna da tua aparelhagem,
o dia do teu aniversário,
o postal que dispensa palavras,
o barco que leva o mar atrás.

Ela é a tua história em banda desenhada,
o teu período de juventude,
o teu apóstolo,
a razão da ampulheta,
o teu último suspiro,
o significado do teu primeiro choro,
o que só tu vês.

cdapluma

pic por lucias-tears

onde estás?

"fui eu que fiz isto", diz a minha memória
"não posso ter feito isto" diz o meu amor-próprio,
...
e ele não desiste.

No fim, é a memória que cede.

Nietzsche

pic by toasty

From someone truly Blessed

Muito Triste, muito cru, muito real, muito forte, muito muito.

Uma excelente descoberta a viajar pela net. Estou deslumbrado.


Suicide

This is a poem to no one
But to the world

Where is life and love,
When there is so much pain?
You know of what I speak.
The endless lines and rhymes
Scribbled by desperate souls
Such as you,
Such as I,
Seeking, searching, praying
For what else but freedom.
But that freedom you fool
Is the illusion.

Could you ever see why?
Why pain is the chain
That weighs our souls down.
Why freedom is nothing more
Than the walls of our prison.
You may break free of none
And live a simple life
But I no longer can.

And still, and still I’m trapped.
I’ve clawed at these tiled walls
All these many years.
Now my bloody fingertips
No longer feel the salty tears
As I wipe them across my face.

So you see my unfortunate friend
The walls are my flesh
And the chain, my lonely thoughts.
No matter how deep I dig and tear
No matter how much crimson tape I bled
These very walls,
My tortured soul could not have fled,
Are damned.

So this night my tired feet will float
In a porcelain pool drawn
With the tears of a polluted world.
As my prison floods this very hour
My fractured body will drown
Tonight like a crushed flower.

Goodbye, forever none

(c)2004 Joseph Palladino

Razorblade Relations

pic: death - Sandman (Gaiman)

He walks into the empty room as the tears slide down his cheek
Locks the doors that surround him
He doesn't want anyone to see
He goes to the cabinet
He reaches to the back
"I know this is were I hid it."
Behind the band-aid pack

As he searches desperately
He never stops to see
His brother in the corner

Holding what he seeks
"So this is what you truly want?"
He looks as his brother speaks
"To end you life with a razorblades?"
"Or do you just like to bleed?"

"Give that to me!"
He cries out
"You don't know what its like."
He turns to the mirror
"To lie awake and cry all night."

"See that's the one thing you don't get,
I do,I may not cry for the same reasons,
But I sit and cry for you...."

By:Jeremy Veal

Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colours; let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus:

One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen, the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in seven lives, I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, "Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, "He is a madman." I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time.

For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."Thus I became a madman. And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

(Kahlil Gibran - The Madman)

Harmony at the peak by Kahlil Gibran

Sandman

Uma banda desenhada imperdível. Poesia pura. Gasto as minhas poupanças se me garantirem que lêem.