domingo, 31 de janeiro de 2010
E assim acaba
E assim acaba Winter-Een-Mas,
com oferendas aos deuses de corridas, desportos, tiros, estratégia, retro e MMO's.
A todos um feliz jogo da vida e uma vida cheia de jogos :D
Já agora, é o final de Janeiro, o Diogo faz anos e re-descobri algo perdido :]
com oferendas aos deuses de corridas, desportos, tiros, estratégia, retro e MMO's.
A todos um feliz jogo da vida e uma vida cheia de jogos :D
Já agora, é o final de Janeiro, o Diogo faz anos e re-descobri algo perdido :]
sábado, 30 de janeiro de 2010
sexta-feira, 29 de janeiro de 2010
Então...
Então... inscrevi-me no concurso de blogues da Superbock onde, a partir de 24 de Fevereiro, poderão começar a votar nos vossos blogues preferidos. Ainda sabendo que é uma escolha difícil, aplaudo esta iniciativa e espero que o vencedor deste concurso tenha a hipótese de ganhar um contracto para um livro é algo assim.
Numa nota mais importante, ESPERO QUE VOTEM EM MIM!
Numa nota mais importante, ESPERO QUE VOTEM EM MIM!
Sinto falta de...
Sinto falta d'...
As brisas do Verão, os dias quentes passados debaixo do Sol que nos queima a pele.
Os gelados, da praia, de nadar, de me divertir em discutir contigo.
A boa disposição, as férias, o descanso, a serenidade.
O Tejo calmo e bem visto, a decorar uma Lisboa povoada por edifícios sem fim.
Tantas outras coisas que não tenho a paciência para enumerar... Queiram ajudar :]
As brisas do Verão, os dias quentes passados debaixo do Sol que nos queima a pele.
Os gelados, da praia, de nadar, de me divertir em discutir contigo.
A boa disposição, as férias, o descanso, a serenidade.
O Tejo calmo e bem visto, a decorar uma Lisboa povoada por edifícios sem fim.
Tantas outras coisas que não tenho a paciência para enumerar... Queiram ajudar :]
quarta-feira, 27 de janeiro de 2010
Juventude
Juventude corrupta que caminha pelos vales em escuridão, as nuvens, carregadas de chuva, negras, de falsas intenções, cobrem o Sol para o proteger de tamanha ignorância do povo terrestre que ilumina. Já a Lua se esconde atrás do horizonte e chora com profunda tristeza a inocência corrompida da humanidade. A noite cai com pobreza de espírito e sussurra desilusão para as mentes dos que vagueiam eternamente na sua escuridão. E então caem os pensamentos à terra, as estrelas param de brilhar porque não há génios para as iluminar.
terça-feira, 26 de janeiro de 2010
Feliz Winter-Een-Mas
Feliz Winter-Een-Mas para toda a gente...
Para quem não sabe (basicamente toda a gente), o Winter-Een-Mas é um feriado ficcional criado num comic online chamado "Control-Alt-Delete". Este feriado dura uma semana inteira e é dedicado exclusivamente à actividade de jogar jogos, de computadores, consolas, o que quiserem. Começou ontem mas como só cá vi ontem, desejo-vos a todos um feliz Winter-Een-Mas e muitos joguinhos por aí. Eu sei que me ando a ocupar dos meus :P
Para quem não sabe (basicamente toda a gente), o Winter-Een-Mas é um feriado ficcional criado num comic online chamado "Control-Alt-Delete". Este feriado dura uma semana inteira e é dedicado exclusivamente à actividade de jogar jogos, de computadores, consolas, o que quiserem. Começou ontem mas como só cá vi ontem, desejo-vos a todos um feliz Winter-Een-Mas e muitos joguinhos por aí. Eu sei que me ando a ocupar dos meus :P
Paisagem
Absorve o horizonte,
Preenche profundamente a paisagem,
Vê o Sol nascer por cima do monte,
Observa-o cair para a noite com toda a coragem.
Pinta-me quadros de profunda beleza,
Explica-me o quão detesto eu este estado de mente,
Mente-me, fala-me a verdade com plenos pulmões de rudeza,
Engana-me e faz-me acreditar que a minha alma não sente.
Tira-me a vontade de tentar,
De te dizer o que te tenho a dizer,
Com vergonha, de me abrir, de me confessar,
Tira-me a liberdade de fazer este sentimento crescer.
Destrói o poeta em mim,
A necessidade de drama na minha vida e de uma mulher na minha cama,
Agarra-me enquanto desvanece tudo o que na vida vi e vivi,
Enquanto a minha cegueira se levanta e controla.
Preenche profundamente a paisagem,
Vê o Sol nascer por cima do monte,
Observa-o cair para a noite com toda a coragem.
Pinta-me quadros de profunda beleza,
Explica-me o quão detesto eu este estado de mente,
Mente-me, fala-me a verdade com plenos pulmões de rudeza,
Engana-me e faz-me acreditar que a minha alma não sente.
Tira-me a vontade de tentar,
De te dizer o que te tenho a dizer,
Com vergonha, de me abrir, de me confessar,
Tira-me a liberdade de fazer este sentimento crescer.
Destrói o poeta em mim,
A necessidade de drama na minha vida e de uma mulher na minha cama,
Agarra-me enquanto desvanece tudo o que na vida vi e vivi,
Enquanto a minha cegueira se levanta e controla.
Outro mundo
Este mundo adormece na minha consciência, aproximando-me da inevitável loucura que passa para dizer olá e agradecer a hospitalidade por tantos anos que passaram. Este rapaz que está lentamente a caminhar para a cegueira não mostra humildade nem se curva perante nenhum Homem. Conquista-me a arrogância e o orgulho, pesa-me no sono (na falta dele) a consciência de que cheguei a lado nenhum, numa terra vazia que criei para mim mesmo e que a tomei nas mãos pela total ironia do meu ser.
Ilumino-me mais uma vez para um dia esgotante de esta abundância de certeza de ser uma inutilidade, as paredes levam-me à loucura, são mesmo estas paredes brancas, as quatro que me rodeiam, conquistam-me a tormenta que me vai na mente e lentamente ganham distância da minha clareza de sanidade. Corro o risco de me expor, de me mostrar um sentimentalista e escrevo mais um poema no papel, leve-me ele ao mundo fantasma que me tira todas as dúvidas.
As palavras são claras e são de desprezo. Dependo de mim a resistir e corrigir o problema. Esta alma partida ao meio pela insegurança e orgulho, caio em glória no abismo do teu desinteresse. Caio em chamas e caio rápido, é proibido conquistar o teu mundo e conhecer o teu outro lado. Não quero que reveles a tua pena, os teus sentimentos, mantém-te simplesmente esse demónio devorador de almas que me dá tanto prazer em ver e falar, comunicar e, acima de tudo, gozar. Assim poderei permitir o interesse crescente mas mentiroso em ti.
Ilumino-me mais uma vez para um dia esgotante de esta abundância de certeza de ser uma inutilidade, as paredes levam-me à loucura, são mesmo estas paredes brancas, as quatro que me rodeiam, conquistam-me a tormenta que me vai na mente e lentamente ganham distância da minha clareza de sanidade. Corro o risco de me expor, de me mostrar um sentimentalista e escrevo mais um poema no papel, leve-me ele ao mundo fantasma que me tira todas as dúvidas.
As palavras são claras e são de desprezo. Dependo de mim a resistir e corrigir o problema. Esta alma partida ao meio pela insegurança e orgulho, caio em glória no abismo do teu desinteresse. Caio em chamas e caio rápido, é proibido conquistar o teu mundo e conhecer o teu outro lado. Não quero que reveles a tua pena, os teus sentimentos, mantém-te simplesmente esse demónio devorador de almas que me dá tanto prazer em ver e falar, comunicar e, acima de tudo, gozar. Assim poderei permitir o interesse crescente mas mentiroso em ti.
sábado, 23 de janeiro de 2010
O espírito que desiste
Negra é a minha alma,
Reflexo do teu sentimento,
Sombrio é o meu pensamento,
O qual ninguém salva.
Preencho vazios na folha branca
Nesta aura quase desvanecida,
E o espírito que desiste,
Nunca arriscou saber o que sentiste.
[original de algures entre Janeiro e Março de 2009]
Reflexo do teu sentimento,
Sombrio é o meu pensamento,
O qual ninguém salva.
Preencho vazios na folha branca
Nesta aura quase desvanecida,
E o espírito que desiste,
Nunca arriscou saber o que sentiste.
[original de algures entre Janeiro e Março de 2009]
sexta-feira, 22 de janeiro de 2010
Todos eles são parte de mim.
Ando perdido por estas ruas, vagueei-o-as, encontro-as intermináveis, de sentimentos desesperados e ultrapassados, de memórias sobre as quais escrevi e pensei, meditei e senti. Vejo o sentimento passar por mim, uma bruma de confusão indeterminada numa vida jovem que teimou em crescer mais depressa por querer agradar e servir a alguém. Cumprimento o desconhecido que me busca esperança e vontade de viver com os olhos. Quando a encontra nas profundezas dos meus olhos percebe que não pode voltar atrás, perdeu a alma para os confins da minha, deu-me energia e faz agora parte de mim. Nesta rua suja, inúmeras são as pessoas muitas mais as que me olham, com respeito e medo, do que aquelas que me amam e que me querem bem.
Vejo o mendigo que me teme e pede dinheiro, precisa de viver, de se limpar, recuperar de todos os erros do seu passado. Ele já teve uma vida fácil, já viveu bem, com um tecto para o abrigar da chuva e do vento, do tenebroso frio de Inverno e, acima de tudo, da solidão de viver sobre olhares de pena e superioridade. Ele esconde a cara por baixo de uma barba extensa e entre os seus braços. As rugas proíbem a passagem das lágrimas que lhe escorrem dos olhos. A idade pesa o ressentimento e o arrependimento. Por ele passam milhares de pessoas todos os dias mas todos os dias nem uma pessoa ele se sente. Um dia acabará com a dor de uma vez por todas.
Vejo a senhora dos gatos, a abraça-los ternamente, a dar-lhes festa e a alimenta-los. Sem dúvida que os ama, mais do que a si mesma. Proíbe-se de pensar em morrer um dia, preocupa-se com os gatos. Vejo a sua futilidade e fraqueza no seu sorriso. Diz que ama mas não fala com nenhum ser humano. A esses descarta-os a todos, não são como os gatos, bonitos e carinhosos. São maus e sujos e cruéis. Vejo a sua infantilidade morta nas suas mãos, já não faz nada para o evitar, o seu reino cor de rosa cai aos bocados cada vez que vê as pessoas da sua idade a passearem na frente da sua casa com os seus netos e um grande sorriso honesto na sua cara. Aquele que ela nunca teve, a felicidade que nunca durou. Abre as portas e deixa os gatos fugir, foi à cozinha, agarrou na faca e foi dormir.
Vejo o ministro. Tanto poderia estar aqui como a vender carros, como diz o povo. Poderoso o seu punho que se estiva numa tentativa de encorajar o povo mas esconde no meio dos seus dedos a verdade e liberdade, pela qual diz lutar. Abraça pessoas, pega em recém-nascidos, tira fotografias e distribui sorrisos. Mentiras sórdidas que nos apanham a todos e que nos tiram pedaços da alma. Caminha no seu tapete vermelho com o poder na mão e um alvo na nuca. Caminha uma última vez na tua glória injustificada, o que tu tiraste ao povo, o povo tirar-te-à a ti.
Todos eles são parte de mim. E eu, que sou? Sou um mundo, uma existência, uma realidade, um Universo.
Vejo o mendigo que me teme e pede dinheiro, precisa de viver, de se limpar, recuperar de todos os erros do seu passado. Ele já teve uma vida fácil, já viveu bem, com um tecto para o abrigar da chuva e do vento, do tenebroso frio de Inverno e, acima de tudo, da solidão de viver sobre olhares de pena e superioridade. Ele esconde a cara por baixo de uma barba extensa e entre os seus braços. As rugas proíbem a passagem das lágrimas que lhe escorrem dos olhos. A idade pesa o ressentimento e o arrependimento. Por ele passam milhares de pessoas todos os dias mas todos os dias nem uma pessoa ele se sente. Um dia acabará com a dor de uma vez por todas.
Vejo a senhora dos gatos, a abraça-los ternamente, a dar-lhes festa e a alimenta-los. Sem dúvida que os ama, mais do que a si mesma. Proíbe-se de pensar em morrer um dia, preocupa-se com os gatos. Vejo a sua futilidade e fraqueza no seu sorriso. Diz que ama mas não fala com nenhum ser humano. A esses descarta-os a todos, não são como os gatos, bonitos e carinhosos. São maus e sujos e cruéis. Vejo a sua infantilidade morta nas suas mãos, já não faz nada para o evitar, o seu reino cor de rosa cai aos bocados cada vez que vê as pessoas da sua idade a passearem na frente da sua casa com os seus netos e um grande sorriso honesto na sua cara. Aquele que ela nunca teve, a felicidade que nunca durou. Abre as portas e deixa os gatos fugir, foi à cozinha, agarrou na faca e foi dormir.
Vejo o ministro. Tanto poderia estar aqui como a vender carros, como diz o povo. Poderoso o seu punho que se estiva numa tentativa de encorajar o povo mas esconde no meio dos seus dedos a verdade e liberdade, pela qual diz lutar. Abraça pessoas, pega em recém-nascidos, tira fotografias e distribui sorrisos. Mentiras sórdidas que nos apanham a todos e que nos tiram pedaços da alma. Caminha no seu tapete vermelho com o poder na mão e um alvo na nuca. Caminha uma última vez na tua glória injustificada, o que tu tiraste ao povo, o povo tirar-te-à a ti.
Todos eles são parte de mim. E eu, que sou? Sou um mundo, uma existência, uma realidade, um Universo.
Warning
You never learn to live the first time you breath,
Calmly look at the world and blind to lies,
Constrained, contained potential, a fire train moving towards a future wealth,
Into the unthinkable act of flying and buying the skies.
We all lose ourselves at some point,
Our thoughts decay, we lose the memory of happy times,
The world still rotates and we remain insane,
We stop following words, guides and lines.
All we whisper in the endless nights of lust,
All we ever wanted, fought for, craved for,
Gone, wasted in time, dedicated into the rain and now turned to rust,
And we still live, in plain sorrow.
Calmly look at the world and blind to lies,
Constrained, contained potential, a fire train moving towards a future wealth,
Into the unthinkable act of flying and buying the skies.
We all lose ourselves at some point,
Our thoughts decay, we lose the memory of happy times,
The world still rotates and we remain insane,
We stop following words, guides and lines.
All we whisper in the endless nights of lust,
All we ever wanted, fought for, craved for,
Gone, wasted in time, dedicated into the rain and now turned to rust,
And we still live, in plain sorrow.
The Heir still breathes
"All that is forgiven is forgotten, give time what time has to take and leave." - She cries tonight, on her way to another nightmare. Unsafe, unrelieved, violently brought back to reality. His smile hurts even more than his putrid smell, his greed, his anger. Her memories of that fateful night erased by the wounds caused by his smile.
In an hazy afternoon, her smile was real again, the grass was green, the skies blue and the sun was shining. In the summer of 1559, as she walked in the house, stepping those stairs down into the living room where her future husband would be announced. She was hopeful, until now only despite was in her head for their kind. She walked at a slow pace, almost day-dreaming. Smile of doubt, she was wondering if she could trust men again, find someone real, who would be by her side and comfort her without any other intentions in nights of trouble. Belonging to a treasonous destiny, in a treacherous path, her joy would soon turn sorrow.
Just around the corner, in a smooth twist of faith, she saw his eyes glowing, with a smile bigger than his honesty, her pain and fear flowing through her every nerve. She walked backwards, slowly, not believing what her eyes were seeing. She broke into tears as her father announced the marriage arranged with the one that took her life, innocence and will to live away. Into her knees she fell, the world went blind, no more sounds of the wind of birds happily singing. The worlds wouldn't come out, the terror, the panic, the sheer horror before her eyes, coming towards her, taking her in his arms and falsely trying to comfort her. The pain, she ran, into the kitchen, crying.
Quickly she grabbed knife and started to yell. She told the truth, exposed the past of her future to the present, quickly gave it to the world, without remorse. And as quickly his anger took over him and attacked her. In a slow movement that seemed to last forever, her innocence was back forever, the knife went trough his heart and he fell to the floor, proclaiming undying love for her beauty. And as of justice, maybe an messenger of such a foul way, she used the knife and cut herself in the neck, ending her pain and bringing back the bliss and innocence that the human dead in the floor had stolen from her in an unjustified and incompressible love.
And the story of the Heir ends here, he died with the one he loved and that gave him that title. His love thrown away in an error, in a dark night of loneliness. And she was so beautiful, he cared so much, everything, the world, her soul, poisoned and rotten, condemned to Hell. Their eternal love, for which they pledged in many lifes before this one, gone, forever. Plead to the Lord, save her soul, shall they meet again, for the purpose which they came to this Earth for? Now it all depends in a blind faith.
In an hazy afternoon, her smile was real again, the grass was green, the skies blue and the sun was shining. In the summer of 1559, as she walked in the house, stepping those stairs down into the living room where her future husband would be announced. She was hopeful, until now only despite was in her head for their kind. She walked at a slow pace, almost day-dreaming. Smile of doubt, she was wondering if she could trust men again, find someone real, who would be by her side and comfort her without any other intentions in nights of trouble. Belonging to a treasonous destiny, in a treacherous path, her joy would soon turn sorrow.
Just around the corner, in a smooth twist of faith, she saw his eyes glowing, with a smile bigger than his honesty, her pain and fear flowing through her every nerve. She walked backwards, slowly, not believing what her eyes were seeing. She broke into tears as her father announced the marriage arranged with the one that took her life, innocence and will to live away. Into her knees she fell, the world went blind, no more sounds of the wind of birds happily singing. The worlds wouldn't come out, the terror, the panic, the sheer horror before her eyes, coming towards her, taking her in his arms and falsely trying to comfort her. The pain, she ran, into the kitchen, crying.
Quickly she grabbed knife and started to yell. She told the truth, exposed the past of her future to the present, quickly gave it to the world, without remorse. And as quickly his anger took over him and attacked her. In a slow movement that seemed to last forever, her innocence was back forever, the knife went trough his heart and he fell to the floor, proclaiming undying love for her beauty. And as of justice, maybe an messenger of such a foul way, she used the knife and cut herself in the neck, ending her pain and bringing back the bliss and innocence that the human dead in the floor had stolen from her in an unjustified and incompressible love.
And the story of the Heir ends here, he died with the one he loved and that gave him that title. His love thrown away in an error, in a dark night of loneliness. And she was so beautiful, he cared so much, everything, the world, her soul, poisoned and rotten, condemned to Hell. Their eternal love, for which they pledged in many lifes before this one, gone, forever. Plead to the Lord, save her soul, shall they meet again, for the purpose which they came to this Earth for? Now it all depends in a blind faith.
quarta-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2010
Oh pobr' alma
Oh pobr' alma,
Da minha dor,
Teria de ser Lúcifer a levá-la
E a dar-lhe uma nova cor.
Perdita como a mente da mesma,
Retirada da sua perdição,
Numa lenta morte de servidão,
Na sua falsa isolação.
Na mão de Mefisto
Encontro uma razão de protesto,
Tantas almas desperdiçadas
Por um pedaço de Paraíso que nenhum humano alcançava.
É na razão da vil existência,
Nesta minha incompleta vivência,
Que temor mais não sentia,
Nem amor conquistaria.
E os meus pesares,
Que o Diabo os carregue,
Estremecendo terras e mares,
Levando esta dor que tanto me persegue.
[original de 09-06-09]
Da minha dor,
Teria de ser Lúcifer a levá-la
E a dar-lhe uma nova cor.
Perdita como a mente da mesma,
Retirada da sua perdição,
Numa lenta morte de servidão,
Na sua falsa isolação.
Na mão de Mefisto
Encontro uma razão de protesto,
Tantas almas desperdiçadas
Por um pedaço de Paraíso que nenhum humano alcançava.
É na razão da vil existência,
Nesta minha incompleta vivência,
Que temor mais não sentia,
Nem amor conquistaria.
E os meus pesares,
Que o Diabo os carregue,
Estremecendo terras e mares,
Levando esta dor que tanto me persegue.
[original de 09-06-09]
Lembro o tempo
Que seja uma lição ao tempo,
Passou por aqui e tudo abandonou,
Ainda que, na realidade, a passar seja lento,
Para nós a felicidade era tanta que pareceu que ele voou.
Observando o Tejo e moderando o meu raciocínio,
Relembrando a vez que lá estive e as vezes em que já me perdi nestes pensamentos,
O meu estado de espírito e a minha força a chegarem a um desespero crítico,
A minha alma a chamar e o meu corpo a negar, o grito dos meus sentimentos.
Alimento, porventura, as suas ondas rebeldes,
A sua doença tão artificialmente criada,
Os seus contos de conquistas tão célebres,
E a sua glória de rei dos mares levada.
E ao tempo relembro,
Apenas a mim, numa confissão profunda, minto,
À minha verdadeira infelicidade renego,
Do fundo da minha alma, revelar o que sinto.
Passou por aqui e tudo abandonou,
Ainda que, na realidade, a passar seja lento,
Para nós a felicidade era tanta que pareceu que ele voou.
Observando o Tejo e moderando o meu raciocínio,
Relembrando a vez que lá estive e as vezes em que já me perdi nestes pensamentos,
O meu estado de espírito e a minha força a chegarem a um desespero crítico,
A minha alma a chamar e o meu corpo a negar, o grito dos meus sentimentos.
Alimento, porventura, as suas ondas rebeldes,
A sua doença tão artificialmente criada,
Os seus contos de conquistas tão célebres,
E a sua glória de rei dos mares levada.
E ao tempo relembro,
Apenas a mim, numa confissão profunda, minto,
À minha verdadeira infelicidade renego,
Do fundo da minha alma, revelar o que sinto.
segunda-feira, 18 de janeiro de 2010
"Abismo" - Fernando Pessoa
Olho o Tejo, e de tal arte
Que me esquece olhar olhando,
E súbito isto me bate
De encontro ao devaneando -
O que é sério, e correr?
O que é está-lo eu a ver?
Que me esquece olhar olhando,
E súbito isto me bate
De encontro ao devaneando -
O que é sério, e correr?
O que é está-lo eu a ver?
Sinto de repente pouco,
Vácuo, o momento, o lugar.
Tudo de repente é oco -
Mesmo o meu estar a pensar.
Tudo - eu e o mundo em redor -
Fica mais que exterior.
Perde tudo o ser, ficar,
E do pensar se me some.
Fico sem poder ligar
Ser, idéia, alma de nome
A mim, à terra e aos céus...
E súbito encontro Deus.
Deixa-se a vida ir
Vê-se a vida seguir em frente,
Parte sem nós,
Não deixa piedade nem uma despedida decente,
Quanto mais a procuramos, mais ficamos sós.
Tenta-se viver o que se pode,
Encontra-se o que os outros esperam e escrevem sobre encontrar
O prazer no álcool e no amor, que na manhã nos deixa pobre
E que pela noite nos deixa levar.
Respira-se, expira-se, deixa-se rebolar na cama por entre noites de insónias,
Resumindo o nosso dia ao encontro fútil com o acaso,
Deixa-se o mundo à parte, os nossos pensamentos e nossas folias,
E despedimos-nos do nosso velho amigo com um calorento abraço.
Vê-se a vida a deixar-nos para trás,
Sem remorsos nem alma a que nos agarrarmos,
São estas as brincadeiras que o destino nos faz,
O melhor mesmo, se calhar, é levar nos deixarmos.
Parte sem nós,
Não deixa piedade nem uma despedida decente,
Quanto mais a procuramos, mais ficamos sós.
Tenta-se viver o que se pode,
Encontra-se o que os outros esperam e escrevem sobre encontrar
O prazer no álcool e no amor, que na manhã nos deixa pobre
E que pela noite nos deixa levar.
Respira-se, expira-se, deixa-se rebolar na cama por entre noites de insónias,
Resumindo o nosso dia ao encontro fútil com o acaso,
Deixa-se o mundo à parte, os nossos pensamentos e nossas folias,
E despedimos-nos do nosso velho amigo com um calorento abraço.
Vê-se a vida a deixar-nos para trás,
Sem remorsos nem alma a que nos agarrarmos,
São estas as brincadeiras que o destino nos faz,
O melhor mesmo, se calhar, é levar nos deixarmos.
Traveller
Marauder, you lost wanderer, the last of the adventurers, the world gave it all to you to find yourself and you wallowed in self-pity. Merciful fate, the one that brought you here, meaningful intent, your desire to find what your eyes distort and your soul denies. Find the passage through, you to you, amidst the ashes of the Sun, in this deserted land, polluted by sin, the skies torn and yellow, the land grey and old, empty. Traveller, found that this earth was a lie, awakened assassin, you target yourself for the living are now dead and wonder endlessly the streets, trying to find hope in the empty eyes of another.
Bleak future, you brought this curse upon this being. Got rid of his demons, put in the execution line before shame, persecuted by guilt. You we're no one to tell him to live here, to breath this, to evolve alone into is solitude and madness. Recovering all, re-building all, claiming himself as the god of this world, demanding blood to be sacrificed in the altar of eminent insanity. Forcibly re-writing something from the start, not quite sure of what his invention would be. Drowning in sorrow, poor soul, found a heart and gave it a try, ending losing all. To all the risks that he never had the courage to take, he gathered his belongings and roamed the seas, awaiting for closure or death.
Let it be known that time moved on, the lands were one again, the land was green, a peaceful pasture where his naked feet moved amazed at the beauty of the his world. His mind travelled away, forgot space, forgot banishment, forgot all that lost in the explosion of the Sun, he found himself in the reflection of a transparent lake. And there he fell in love, with Nature in it's full splendour. Moved on, created life within life and evolved into a complete and happy man, mere human, mere mortal but with a moral of a god.
Bleak future, you brought this curse upon this being. Got rid of his demons, put in the execution line before shame, persecuted by guilt. You we're no one to tell him to live here, to breath this, to evolve alone into is solitude and madness. Recovering all, re-building all, claiming himself as the god of this world, demanding blood to be sacrificed in the altar of eminent insanity. Forcibly re-writing something from the start, not quite sure of what his invention would be. Drowning in sorrow, poor soul, found a heart and gave it a try, ending losing all. To all the risks that he never had the courage to take, he gathered his belongings and roamed the seas, awaiting for closure or death.
Let it be known that time moved on, the lands were one again, the land was green, a peaceful pasture where his naked feet moved amazed at the beauty of the his world. His mind travelled away, forgot space, forgot banishment, forgot all that lost in the explosion of the Sun, he found himself in the reflection of a transparent lake. And there he fell in love, with Nature in it's full splendour. Moved on, created life within life and evolved into a complete and happy man, mere human, mere mortal but with a moral of a god.
terça-feira, 12 de janeiro de 2010
Highlands
Senseless courage, this heart that yearns for the change and the body that charges in the battlefield for freedom. At the sound of rain drops, the horses breath the humid atmosphere and the people of this lands begin to feel the winds changing, their luck fading. When hope was a bottle of dirty water deep down in the well, there a hero comes disguise as a mere human, mortal and weak. He took the hearts of the people with a speech of rebelion and the eyes of fury. The sword fused with his body and there he left the village along the men to conquer their own rightful place in the world, lost a long time ago, given from cowards to swines. And there he yield the sword, up and towards the sky, no Sun to make her shine but with the bravery of a nation in his soul.
Bloody temper charged against their wooden walls, conquering and slaughtering, sending a message to a foul king, that a nation is not a nation without a a sword, a heart and a soul to command it. His words roared far beyond the realms of thievery and lies and fear took over the hearts of those who would betray him once again. City after city, lord after lord, they all fell after they saw the eyes of victory enraged against them. And with a last whisper they regretted the day they sold they souls for a piece of land that would kill them. Then the sword went through their bodies and a yell of victory reached the shores of the sacred lake, where the magical beast was awakened to help her nation in need.
Fate came at the speed of the night in this cursed land. The hero had gone out of battle, he found the love bigger than what he fought for. In his bed rested the roses of a time of peace, his army commanded by another man. Her hands calmly and gently passing through his body, their souls consuming the love for each other, their bodies building and controlling the heat of the night, under a naked moon and the stars as guides to safety. The wind whispered only in the corners of imagination and the hero rested a calm night in a life of war.
Soon the day came and his head was asked in every village. The world had turned against him, all those who cheered for him once had betrayed him and tried to capture him. His love had gone to the land of the ghost, he was alone in the coldness. In the middle of so much anger and fear, he lost the battle and went prisoner to the king. His eyes cried a soul that lost it's hope once again and he screamed at the skies as he watched his love asking him to return to her, "FREEDOM". His head rolled to the ground and his life was gone. Man would come to continue and end his work but for now his body was torn apart and sent to the corners of England, order of the sadistic king of a nation who slaved those equal to them. His legend lived on. May his spirit roam in freedom and love to find a more just life and kingdom to call his own. In your honour, William Wallace.
Bloody temper charged against their wooden walls, conquering and slaughtering, sending a message to a foul king, that a nation is not a nation without a a sword, a heart and a soul to command it. His words roared far beyond the realms of thievery and lies and fear took over the hearts of those who would betray him once again. City after city, lord after lord, they all fell after they saw the eyes of victory enraged against them. And with a last whisper they regretted the day they sold they souls for a piece of land that would kill them. Then the sword went through their bodies and a yell of victory reached the shores of the sacred lake, where the magical beast was awakened to help her nation in need.
Fate came at the speed of the night in this cursed land. The hero had gone out of battle, he found the love bigger than what he fought for. In his bed rested the roses of a time of peace, his army commanded by another man. Her hands calmly and gently passing through his body, their souls consuming the love for each other, their bodies building and controlling the heat of the night, under a naked moon and the stars as guides to safety. The wind whispered only in the corners of imagination and the hero rested a calm night in a life of war.
Soon the day came and his head was asked in every village. The world had turned against him, all those who cheered for him once had betrayed him and tried to capture him. His love had gone to the land of the ghost, he was alone in the coldness. In the middle of so much anger and fear, he lost the battle and went prisoner to the king. His eyes cried a soul that lost it's hope once again and he screamed at the skies as he watched his love asking him to return to her, "FREEDOM". His head rolled to the ground and his life was gone. Man would come to continue and end his work but for now his body was torn apart and sent to the corners of England, order of the sadistic king of a nation who slaved those equal to them. His legend lived on. May his spirit roam in freedom and love to find a more just life and kingdom to call his own. In your honour, William Wallace.
domingo, 10 de janeiro de 2010
Along our pathway
Chapter one: I move as the blood circles my body. Insignificant schemes to take over my mind and soul, distractions from the normal day, the afternoon where I gaze the winter coming but I face it with no fear in me. No dark clouds to drive me away, no rain to wash over my tears, I'll find happiness in your arms, in your warmth, by the light of the fire, by your gentle lips when we kiss in the cold nights. You will lead me on, tell me lies and I will stay here, for you and for me.
Chapter two: Late December brings the awakening of the dead, we celebrate those who had fooled us then and continue to face us as fools now. Resurrected murderer, injustice brought by the hands of despair, for a change, for a fake peace to be used as an excuse for war. The air contaminated by their sins and still we lay down, our families long gone, our children long to be born. The doubts contaminate the truth of your thoughts but quietly I'll let you down to sleep, tomorrow we'll bring the snow and people shall see the truth that hides behind their reflection.
Chapter three: The delight in our smile to see the world crumble, all those years mistaken by an illusionist, we continue our journey, the world is just to big to be still and regret. Exploration caused by the grand desire of finding what as been long lost or what the human eye and truth cannot see. Forbidden realm, let us in your lust and complete trust, we shall not speak of the world outside. Unforgiving and unfair, grey as the volcanic snow that passes through my hands in this moment. My love, I will forgive thee, for thee shall cause me no more harm, I see the Summer now, the green pastures that I long awaited, our family and friends that we buried with our own hands, our children, happily playing with the flowers that bloom at the sound of music.
Chapter four: Cursed fate, you've forbidden us to ever see you again. We are blind to the ways of your people, we can only trust our animal instinct, our rational side was killed along with our emotion when we stepped on the boat and left to find home. Mourning the tears of another, we pass through a funeral where no one we knew had died and the world cried with us. We've left our anger fill our hearts, we've been nominated out-casters, today we failed with our own hands to drown even more into the Earth after he wake of our sorrows. We've been forgiven and lost, now we are blind and hopeless. For our kingdom not be, no blood is spilled and no castle is build, we seize to exist and let our lifes behind. Love, I have failed thee, forgive me for I cannot find that beauty in this world that you so much wanted me to see. Believe me when I say, I bury you with the most deep regret of loving you and yet not have died for what you believed. You have lived your life for me, I long for the next life to compensate and live for you.
Chapter five: I lost my existence, I wallow now in shame. Ethereal love of the one's who follow, you will see the passage to Summerland, you will write how you failed to live your fate. Find happiness in your simple life, regret not being still but to search for what has been in your side all your life. Lose all to find nothing, to not look at your past and see failure, seek the future and treasure it for what is lost was meant to be lost, what is to be found will be found in time, for you, by you, by anyone else but always written in the folklore stories which our ears listen but our hearts do not comprehend.
Chapter six: I mourn now again, not myself, not at my wake, but my life. The one I had and parted long ago. Will you take my soul or will just let me go? We'll meet in the next life, children of Summer, we'll long for the Fall to see our children tall, we'll conquer Winter and see ourselves even stronger and we'll find Spring attached to Summerland where my soul lingers, awaiting your divine touch again, Dana.
Chapter two: Late December brings the awakening of the dead, we celebrate those who had fooled us then and continue to face us as fools now. Resurrected murderer, injustice brought by the hands of despair, for a change, for a fake peace to be used as an excuse for war. The air contaminated by their sins and still we lay down, our families long gone, our children long to be born. The doubts contaminate the truth of your thoughts but quietly I'll let you down to sleep, tomorrow we'll bring the snow and people shall see the truth that hides behind their reflection.
Chapter three: The delight in our smile to see the world crumble, all those years mistaken by an illusionist, we continue our journey, the world is just to big to be still and regret. Exploration caused by the grand desire of finding what as been long lost or what the human eye and truth cannot see. Forbidden realm, let us in your lust and complete trust, we shall not speak of the world outside. Unforgiving and unfair, grey as the volcanic snow that passes through my hands in this moment. My love, I will forgive thee, for thee shall cause me no more harm, I see the Summer now, the green pastures that I long awaited, our family and friends that we buried with our own hands, our children, happily playing with the flowers that bloom at the sound of music.
Chapter four: Cursed fate, you've forbidden us to ever see you again. We are blind to the ways of your people, we can only trust our animal instinct, our rational side was killed along with our emotion when we stepped on the boat and left to find home. Mourning the tears of another, we pass through a funeral where no one we knew had died and the world cried with us. We've left our anger fill our hearts, we've been nominated out-casters, today we failed with our own hands to drown even more into the Earth after he wake of our sorrows. We've been forgiven and lost, now we are blind and hopeless. For our kingdom not be, no blood is spilled and no castle is build, we seize to exist and let our lifes behind. Love, I have failed thee, forgive me for I cannot find that beauty in this world that you so much wanted me to see. Believe me when I say, I bury you with the most deep regret of loving you and yet not have died for what you believed. You have lived your life for me, I long for the next life to compensate and live for you.
Chapter five: I lost my existence, I wallow now in shame. Ethereal love of the one's who follow, you will see the passage to Summerland, you will write how you failed to live your fate. Find happiness in your simple life, regret not being still but to search for what has been in your side all your life. Lose all to find nothing, to not look at your past and see failure, seek the future and treasure it for what is lost was meant to be lost, what is to be found will be found in time, for you, by you, by anyone else but always written in the folklore stories which our ears listen but our hearts do not comprehend.
Chapter six: I mourn now again, not myself, not at my wake, but my life. The one I had and parted long ago. Will you take my soul or will just let me go? We'll meet in the next life, children of Summer, we'll long for the Fall to see our children tall, we'll conquer Winter and see ourselves even stronger and we'll find Spring attached to Summerland where my soul lingers, awaiting your divine touch again, Dana.
sábado, 9 de janeiro de 2010
Land of bliss
Something in the air that tells me that you need me, something vanishing, something looking for home. Eternal closure upon the little human that dreamt of something more, never to find the darkness to assure him of his path nor the light to blind him safely into ethereal bliss. A cold night to heal his severed heart, a warm day to bring him back, to realise that green pastures are a pathway to the real dream. Unfair the life of another that passes by, you reach out a hand but you're held back by your own luck, afraid to bring prejudice and sorrow to your youth. And endlessly you run, seeking the freedom of a butterfly in the treasonous night. You've became the prey, nothing more to say, a silence corrupted by the fear of being, of living, of seeing the light of day. Shall the wounds heal? Will the wolves cry? And the sky brakes in two upon the arrival of rain, announcing the unforgiving winter. Feel the cold rush through your veins, rationality turns into animal instinct, you hunt and still there you do not succeed.
Scarlet life of another betrayal. The arrival of rain brought a new chapter of life. Borrow the soul of another, steal another person's happiness, beg for mercy in the face of Dana in the Summerland, you belong to the folk songs in the villages where people chose life and wine before money and swines. The curves that you swallow, the shadows you endure, the fly of the crows that rewind and take control of the wind take your smile away. Why and why do you bring the rain and the storm, the blood and the sour hearts to an empty table? Try to content and live with yourself, if you can't take the vanity, end your life. Your blood-filled life can't take more of the cuts that you bring upon yourself, your words are lies told to the lord of flies that escaped from Hell to see you commit suicide. Dare not touch his weakness, you shall pay life with life, lie with lie, naked words of truth and freedom for your soul. And ignorance will hunt your life, you won't reach happiness, all your life a complete void, demons will see to it. Adamant will conquer and destroy, the snake on your shoulder and not in your arm, they choke the blood out of you. And realise, it's time for a flower to bloom when you meet your doom.
The body reaches land, the speech is weak and meaningless, the greed took him too far, only vultures and vampires attend his wake. A walk of life between his human life and his pact with Satan is remembered and rejoiced by those who are to bring his rotten soul to Hell. Like the sound of glass, the flowers fill the ground and bloom, blessed doom of another fool. The eerie circles above the water come in the colours of Summerland, a vanishing existence never was celebrated before but the fall of another tyrant is always something to celebrate. Drink the wine, souls of mortals. You lose all the control, you never wanted the power, be corrupted by it, you've seen it all before. And the shape of the Earth reminds you that this life is a circle, many other came before you and many will come, tyrants rising above the clouds to destroy, plunder. You've seen it all before, you learned your lesson without a tear or blood to shed. Curiosity is mere causality in this land, happiness is bliss and everything sacred is what cannot be stolen. No false security, nothing to fall to, no false feelings to be pronounced. In this land, the bliss is given freely at birth and complete happiness to all.
Scarlet life of another betrayal. The arrival of rain brought a new chapter of life. Borrow the soul of another, steal another person's happiness, beg for mercy in the face of Dana in the Summerland, you belong to the folk songs in the villages where people chose life and wine before money and swines. The curves that you swallow, the shadows you endure, the fly of the crows that rewind and take control of the wind take your smile away. Why and why do you bring the rain and the storm, the blood and the sour hearts to an empty table? Try to content and live with yourself, if you can't take the vanity, end your life. Your blood-filled life can't take more of the cuts that you bring upon yourself, your words are lies told to the lord of flies that escaped from Hell to see you commit suicide. Dare not touch his weakness, you shall pay life with life, lie with lie, naked words of truth and freedom for your soul. And ignorance will hunt your life, you won't reach happiness, all your life a complete void, demons will see to it. Adamant will conquer and destroy, the snake on your shoulder and not in your arm, they choke the blood out of you. And realise, it's time for a flower to bloom when you meet your doom.
The body reaches land, the speech is weak and meaningless, the greed took him too far, only vultures and vampires attend his wake. A walk of life between his human life and his pact with Satan is remembered and rejoiced by those who are to bring his rotten soul to Hell. Like the sound of glass, the flowers fill the ground and bloom, blessed doom of another fool. The eerie circles above the water come in the colours of Summerland, a vanishing existence never was celebrated before but the fall of another tyrant is always something to celebrate. Drink the wine, souls of mortals. You lose all the control, you never wanted the power, be corrupted by it, you've seen it all before. And the shape of the Earth reminds you that this life is a circle, many other came before you and many will come, tyrants rising above the clouds to destroy, plunder. You've seen it all before, you learned your lesson without a tear or blood to shed. Curiosity is mere causality in this land, happiness is bliss and everything sacred is what cannot be stolen. No false security, nothing to fall to, no false feelings to be pronounced. In this land, the bliss is given freely at birth and complete happiness to all.
sexta-feira, 8 de janeiro de 2010
Reino conquistado
As crianças que dormem,
Enquanto a sua mãe morre,
A inocência para ser julgada,
Enquanto eles não choram pelo sangue derramado.
As verdades que os ventos levem,
Lá fora o silêncio dorme,
A sua ignorância abandonada,
O seu reino prematuramente derrubado.
Certo dia descobriram a traição,
O amor de mãe deixou de ter significado,
Levaram a faca ao seu coração,
E o seu lugar como reis conquistado.
O seu hino cria medo na sua povoação,
Continuamente descontinuado,
Agora enraivecido, ele responde à sua provocação,
O filho caminha agora abandonado.
Sozinho por florestas que desconhece,
O frio e medo conquistam quando escurece,
O seu coração prematuramente atraiçoado,
Pela sua vontade de um reino conquistado.
Enquanto a sua mãe morre,
A inocência para ser julgada,
Enquanto eles não choram pelo sangue derramado.
As verdades que os ventos levem,
Lá fora o silêncio dorme,
A sua ignorância abandonada,
O seu reino prematuramente derrubado.
Certo dia descobriram a traição,
O amor de mãe deixou de ter significado,
Levaram a faca ao seu coração,
E o seu lugar como reis conquistado.
O seu hino cria medo na sua povoação,
Continuamente descontinuado,
Agora enraivecido, ele responde à sua provocação,
O filho caminha agora abandonado.
Sozinho por florestas que desconhece,
O frio e medo conquistam quando escurece,
O seu coração prematuramente atraiçoado,
Pela sua vontade de um reino conquistado.
Progress to the Heir
Her heart, a block of ice. In her purse, a dagger to fulfil the rawest desire. Her innocence, taken so long ago. In an angry heart, a rotten soul, the lack of judgement, to steal the life of another by an act of selfishness and pure human thought. No more feelings to be considered, no more doubts to brings us to endless bliss, her pain brought in a night where despair would give in to silence.
The alley was silent, the night was quiet, no cat would betray their shadow beneath such a weeping Moon. Her dress would dance to the sound of the wind, the girl would jump in an adorable bliss. Such were the ways of the old days, no tree or building could tell it in any other way. She walked, ignoring every alley, every sound, she knew her way home. She walked, almost endlessly, in such an ease, maybe sloth had taken over her, maybe she had the most relaxing day in her young life. Little she knew, her road was of decadence, her sin about to commit itself against her own will. But her strength was too little, she was an innocent girl, couldn't fight against such evil forms and desires. She had gone into the shadow, betrayed by her own ways. Forgive her...
The morning came like no other but her sleep was much too painful. Had weeks gone by, months in sheer terror spent in her bedroom, what was she to do. The images in her nightmares were recurrent, she couldn't forget those eyes, forgive those hands that so hardly made her bend, erase the blood shed. The memory was corrupted, the child was no longer young, the world wasn't a fair friend, the night would bring her sleepless torture. She had to go, she moved on to her fate, unwillingly meeting her future husband, he who was to receive her in the most kind neglect. She didn't believed in love, she lost her ideas of romanticism and fantasies about princes. She would resign to live a life of solitude and silence. Her eyes told the pain but the words couldn't come out. He was in the living room, the eyes of her nightmares, the hands of her despair, her lost virtue, bliss and innocent in his smile. And she heard on what he was to gain with her. Couldn't forgive him...
He so kindly took her hand, whispered a few words of compliment and moved on. She was a tool, he was a martyr, such a virtuous boy who no one but her knew of his dirty, evil secret. She started to cry, couldn't take any more, she fell on the floor and, has the light started to vanish from her eyes, she begged... for death. She woke up in her bed, alone, at night. No dreams in this sleep, no new life in front of her. She had woke up and continued her old life. More of the old and the words still wouldn't come out. Injustice, such a martyr to be told but her pain to be married. She had lost everything and when she thought that it was the end, there he stood, tall, happy, a liar and a thief that only her could see. Has if any hope she still had after that night, he took it all out again to end her miserable life with a ring. No soul, no possessions, no feelings. Only revenge. She travelled with a dagger in her purse from that they onward. Her kind husband would know her truth in the end, even if it meant to lose the title of Heir of the Throne.
The alley was silent, the night was quiet, no cat would betray their shadow beneath such a weeping Moon. Her dress would dance to the sound of the wind, the girl would jump in an adorable bliss. Such were the ways of the old days, no tree or building could tell it in any other way. She walked, ignoring every alley, every sound, she knew her way home. She walked, almost endlessly, in such an ease, maybe sloth had taken over her, maybe she had the most relaxing day in her young life. Little she knew, her road was of decadence, her sin about to commit itself against her own will. But her strength was too little, she was an innocent girl, couldn't fight against such evil forms and desires. She had gone into the shadow, betrayed by her own ways. Forgive her...
The morning came like no other but her sleep was much too painful. Had weeks gone by, months in sheer terror spent in her bedroom, what was she to do. The images in her nightmares were recurrent, she couldn't forget those eyes, forgive those hands that so hardly made her bend, erase the blood shed. The memory was corrupted, the child was no longer young, the world wasn't a fair friend, the night would bring her sleepless torture. She had to go, she moved on to her fate, unwillingly meeting her future husband, he who was to receive her in the most kind neglect. She didn't believed in love, she lost her ideas of romanticism and fantasies about princes. She would resign to live a life of solitude and silence. Her eyes told the pain but the words couldn't come out. He was in the living room, the eyes of her nightmares, the hands of her despair, her lost virtue, bliss and innocent in his smile. And she heard on what he was to gain with her. Couldn't forgive him...
He so kindly took her hand, whispered a few words of compliment and moved on. She was a tool, he was a martyr, such a virtuous boy who no one but her knew of his dirty, evil secret. She started to cry, couldn't take any more, she fell on the floor and, has the light started to vanish from her eyes, she begged... for death. She woke up in her bed, alone, at night. No dreams in this sleep, no new life in front of her. She had woke up and continued her old life. More of the old and the words still wouldn't come out. Injustice, such a martyr to be told but her pain to be married. She had lost everything and when she thought that it was the end, there he stood, tall, happy, a liar and a thief that only her could see. Has if any hope she still had after that night, he took it all out again to end her miserable life with a ring. No soul, no possessions, no feelings. Only revenge. She travelled with a dagger in her purse from that they onward. Her kind husband would know her truth in the end, even if it meant to lose the title of Heir of the Throne.
terça-feira, 5 de janeiro de 2010
Não consigo dormir. Deixei-me apaixonar pelo demónio no corpo de uma mulher. Não é que lhe tenha muito de beleza, a inteligência ainda é o que a safa mas é mesmo a maneira como ela me atura e fica comigo. Quando os tempos estão difíceis, elas faz-los mais difíceis e parece que tudo o resto fica mais fácil. Nos tempos fáceis, ela mantém-me alerta para as dificuldades que a vida ainda tem a oferecer. Há que relembrar que não digo isto muita vez, é-me impossível exprimir emoções com alguma realidade misturada, mas deixei-me mesmo cair. A minha rede de segurança tinha um buraco por onde ela passou. Ela já me viu todas as metades. Já me viu a chorar numa perfeita noite de decadência, já viu o meu lado lamechas porque lê tudo que por aqui passa, tem uma experiência do meu lado mau, insensível, frio e mais real todos os dias, quando falo com ela e já me viu indiferente ao mundo, à sua presença, à sua existência, até aos seus amigos. Divago pelas razões que me fazem escrever isto, se ela vai perceber que é para ela, se sou algum hipócrita por ainda há alguns dias atrás dizer a outra pessoa que gostava dessa pessoa. Divago ainda, com toda a razão, se isto é real e se tudo o que eu sinto não é apenas carência. Apenas uma coisa não divago, seria impossível fazê-la sentir. Nem mesmo agarrando numa montanha e colocando-a por cima dela e ameaça-la de que deixamos a montanha cair. Não estou a tentar movê-la da sua fortaleza de solidão, apenas quero encontrar uma fórmula "sagrada" para a verdade da confusão na minha cabeça. E então o tempo passa, as palavras são ditas, a verdade escapa ao segundo e não há muito mais que possa fazer ou dizer, não tenho sequer vontade de a ter. Se há conclusão para tudo isto? Não, nem por isso.
Já não sei porque escrevo. Aqui ou em qualquer outro sítio. Não tem objectivo, óbvio que me falta o sentimento. As palavras muitas vezes teimam em aparecer. E acima de tudo, aqui reina a ignorância. De um pouco de tudo. Também a preguiça de procurar, a inércia continua a vencer a batalha do dia-a-dia. Vou-me deixando ficar para trás, não há muito mais a fazer. Os minutos que passam, diariamente, repetidamente, vão-me levando à loucura pouco a pouco. A repetição da contagem faz-me desistir, parece tudo um espelho do que já aconteceu. E por tal prendo-me em casa, escondo-me por trás das paredes, para evitar os olhares, para fazer o que é real em mim resistir ao impulso de deixar de existir. Em silêncio aguardo o calor dos ventos do Verão.
domingo, 3 de janeiro de 2010
sábado, 2 de janeiro de 2010
Sinceramente, Bruno
Definitivamente não era o que queria fazer. Pelo menos já tenho algo novo sobre o que escrever. A vez em que falhei, que não aguentei, a pressão esgotou-me a energia e a minha resistência cedeu. Pensei que me ia sentir melhor, que isto me ia aliviar de alguma forma e permitir-me seguir em frente. Por momentos resultou. Mas fi-la chorar outra vez, tal como originalmente pensei que ia fazer. Nunca pensei que fosse tão afectado por alguém, nem que lhe faria tanto mal simplesmente dizendo que não consegui seguir em frente como normalmente sigo. Mas tenho consciência. Acima de tudo de que sou uma má pessoa, com gosto, e de que só consigo seguir em frente se conseguir tratar-la mal, responder-lhe sarcasticamente. Aí sei que voltei à minha normalidade e que segui em frente. Por enquanto acho que me vou resumir a tentar evitar-la, a viver o que vivi, da forma que o vivi. E talvez, quem sabe, recuperar aquela minha vontade de me divertir, fazer o que é suposto fazer com a minha idade, sair todas as semanas, beber uns copos, conhecer umas miúdas necessitadas de carinho e aproveitar-me delas. Perspectivas de um 2010 com um início nada risonho.
1 ano depois, podes dizer-me, estou igual...
sexta-feira, 1 de janeiro de 2010
Bons dias
Bons dias aos sonhos mal desenhados, às vidas ainda por planear, às sementes que semeei mas que estão ainda por colher. São tempestades de tempos futuros, criadas a partir de memórias do passado. São palavras conflituosas que trago à pele por vontade própria. Expresso-me ao vazio, atiro a minha réstia de luz, de esperança, para dentro do vácuo que engole tudo à sua volta. Com que finalidade? Pergunto-me porque sinto, porque ainda tento fazer sentir, porque tenho esta necessidade de me expressar. Confesso-me. E agora estou perdido, penso que atirei a chave da minha sanidade para o obscuro. Agora tenho demasiado medo para a ir buscar. A tempo, eu ficarei livre do que sinto e voltarei a ser livre para arruinar ainda outra hipótese de me sentir feliz noutra relação.
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