Ill reflections unto themselves

And now the english version

 

Deception sprung from a place unknown

Temptation, no wrong, just pathetic it’s moan

Declining, a rebutle, self-conviction

To attain the object, the fascination

 

Manage us dear friend

Throw back, advise

Tell one to pack, the demise

 

Redundant, this truth

Illfounded his belief

To the top! The deceit

 

It is one, acting are you

Looking and shining in the prime

Finding and wanting, her’s the chime.

 

The sound of authority

The man, his considered superiority

Judging from above

What remains, all but love.

 

Staying all the rest

Leaving what’s believed to be the best

Neurotic mind of an obsessive nature

Never has he been in synchrony with the latter

 

Exiting to prose

T’is not but a moment rose

From the entertaining expression

Of that couple in pleasant agression

To one another, hidden, attempted

The epiphany, one will be tempted

 

In my chair, from afar

Causing it horrid, black as tar

Earlybird, feeling what?

Impressed, doubtful?

Wisdom so definitely null

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

E agora a versão portuguesa

 

Pó Caralho com  o Lírico

Tentar embelezar

Metafórico, Camoniano, épico

Alternância de linguagem invasiva

 

Escrever como forma de frustrar

Contenção de um berro bipolar

Faz isto, faz aquilo

Faz merda, trai o sigilo

 

Porquê lidar com a situação?

Impôr a vontade que o mundo dita

Tou danado, tou irado

Mas sozinho esta disposição é maldita

 

Remove-te desta guerra

Desta luta de poder

Orgulho, Razão, Vitória

Vão-se mas é foder!

 

Embelezar, Patético

Certas palavras, agressivas

Mas o meio termo é um esforço

O que se quer é a verdade

 

Futurismo e humanismo

Fortes ideologias do pensador

Nada mais do que tardes mortas

QIs excessivos sem qualquer propósito

 

Lutar entre consciências

Considerar alternâncias

Matar esforços mal colhidos

Conformar-me aos vencidos

 

O padrão do homem submisso

Cada escudo uma história

Lamentações, é um enguiço!

O heroi que escapa da memória

Pois sim cai no esquecimento

Arrasta consigo tambem mais nada

Passo a passo, ao largo o inevitável

A mediocridade fatídica é imeisurável

 

Grupinho dos meninos

Grupinho das meninas

Meninos do rugby

Meninas dos meninos

 

Ou talvez mais outra coisa

A saída sempre igual

Saber algo é alto astral

Banalidade? Nem vê-la!

 

Some-te Rapaz!

Deixa-te de merdas!

Só irritas a ti e aos outros

Só integras um grupo em ti mesmo!

 

Mas não, não és diferente

Esse direito e honra não tens

Tão certo como os milhões

Que a Deus seguem como um bom crente

 

És igual e deprimente

Frustrado e Mal educado

Responsabilidade Nula

Preguicite aguda

Olhos mal pintados

De preto e vandalizados

 

Canta uma canção

Solta ao mundo a tua dôr

E te digo amigo chora

Ninguem te vai ouvir

 

Mas enfim, minutos gastos

Mão aquecida e ego subido

Aprender, escapou-se do perigo

E abstracção longe aos mastros.

The detestable maniac's passion for his grandeur self

I hereby tender my resignation from hard late night hours in illusion and announce my sweet and soft commitment to reality. 

Yours truly,                                                                                                                    

         the boy who gazed, through a blurred and barring glass, upon his own life.

Padrone è morto! Berlingheri è vivo mas che cossa lui ha fatto?

Caress the gentle skin of a lifetime working palm, a hand swallowed by wrinkles, drenched in labor. But there is feeling nonetheless, even more so, the palpable beyond mere existence and the detachment of the insignifance of remaining simply what is but a tool, an extension of the mind’s watch and masterdom over the body. Delicate, soft hands, they are instead soaked, drowned so tragically said, in grace and frailty, serving no purpose other than that, empty of consideration and effort, the exposition.
Why insult the beautiful and candid, not an intention the demeaning or attempt to ridicule high standards in unequational presentation, establishment in poise and concealment within the looking glass. Or even an ugly untroubled hand, the good or, easily filled in, pretty does not turn the object around less dignified of it’s merit and does not steal it of a path perhaps by it lined out.

Which brings a leighman thinker, an extensively subjective, abstract to make him sound more pompous and self conscientious, watchman of the unimportant to the point precognicised in the beginning and very loosely attained by the random choice of argument turns. Obviously, you can transform or affirm that anything is subjective or relative but bear with me on what is probably known by most and what I can assure was not the direction I was hoping to take, relative in its inexistence as it may be, I didn’t do a brain storm before wildy writing without objective or agenda. The random turns correctly chosen advertised a few lines back are not the dimension in which the next thought inserts itself. So, objectivity, ugly isn’t necessarily visual, an aid to the pleasure of the eyes can be deceptive, a little less typically put, a blind man can see beauty even though he doesn’t see at all. A sum of elements turns the basket heavier making the light tumbrill once overlooked or avoided into a worthy matter of consideration.
I can present before thy humble and nearsighted eyes a specimen so deprived of beauty and of an unpleasantry damned to make you awestruck and haunt you with desires of blindness, I could do so, it’d probably be fun. Anyway, a beast, a pathetic creature, an amalgam of mucosity that without an ounce of hesitation would be replaced with hospitality by a 4 hour chess spectacle, reminiscent of Chinese sleep tortures, banging ones head into nothing over and over again. But here comes what no ones been waiting for due to it blatant predictability, this creature, lets call him Henry Margassald shall we?
Well then, lets say Henry Margss as this dejected unfertilizing sample of dung likes to be referred, there was something carried through magnificently unproportional to Henry’s beauty, rather to its atrocious attack on our sight. In this spirit of the useless hypothetical, beyond the sinking in of my point, Henry Margassald was entirely responsible for disinfecting the entire western American continents water supply and thereby salvation of the impervious inhabitants of such wide confinements within what was believed to be safe. Would this amount, more like encarry a beginning , toward Henry’s beauty? Opinions are sure to split both ways or even shoot out hitting various improbable targets but I stand by my absolute defense of nothing, not my place to establish if steve buscemi is actually a sight for sore eyes or still a cause of the sore of our eyes, offense as well as flattering can be taken by your highest than most Mr.Buscemi sir but I mean no disrespect. And what’s more is that to take into scrutiny and attempt a conclusion of a generality is not so bothering but is equally autistic an attitude as administering a suppository to a homophobic obese flatulent fuck by the name of Reginald Mansfield Winchesterfercervillesmainetsserdumainet Smith.
The miracle of telling the sweet tale of a ferociously grotesque being upgrading his presence to bearable is perhaps possible but what is definate is the application to detail.
Alas, the hands of a desperate seeker of a means to live, to continue his and those of which he cares about lives become, although harsh and inelegantly rugged, a Venus de Milo of labor and testament of a mans dedication to what is truly necessary and the abdication or lack of curiosity towards the superfluous that has made man lose touch of such primitive yet vital values. And although Bertolucci is most probably my favorite film director and a man to whom I extend my greatest respect and admiration as well as hope concerning his not so perky health that we have so been accustomed to, I do not intend to leave my own written testament of communism or grace thy glued ass to which I apologize for the trouble you will encounter departing the chair that is by now already an extension of your body with the vision of the bohemian, spectacle that was seen in Novecento by way of an enormous red flag woven together by the “proletariat.”

If I have Rita Hayworth’s hand, the undressed final end of a magnificent limb exposed oh so carefully could I dare to deem it unfit of my kiss and tremble? Could I confidently and provocatively to the extent of one others very empty life put the vanguard stripped majestically entangled carnal object of even the most peculiar hunched being besides the callous, worn out tools of a man in service for more years than he can count outlined for his own enjoyment? Or need say more, relegate ravishing Rita to the revolting rear of the realationality of remainings, rebel ranting against curfew, dedivasize her in light of the lowest in the chains good deeds?

The intent of a short, primarily bull shit driven, thesis was the instating of seriousness and meaning in one other piece, but of fiction, meant to be done by picking up these psyche cherries, but now I sleep.
Farewell and a merry December to all ya depressed or happy with this pumpkin of tiring emotion.

A palavra estimar é uma das pérolas da língua portuguesa

He has found a suitable person

A girl to fit his age

To tread through the cycle cage

The intwinement towards immersion

 

A history of phases, rites of passage

Jumping, averting lives of marriage

But now damnation t’is not considered

Establishment of humble anarchy, order withered

 

Pulling away a mighty curtain

Of cold war implications

For now, no tresspass, that is certain

The ambition of relations

 

Demmur, deliver, drop

The hungry beast so famished

No writer’s block, no search for plot

Instead to have it ravished

 

Steady down, ease up your stride

Control the need to rise, relate

Confide your silence, make my mind your own

 

Overlooking constant rush to react gives pride

Remain in tranquility, don’t exacerbate

Speak through voids, words unknown

 

The arms are but a consolation of a pain unfelt

The embrace to conclude the predicament dealt

My feet on a fine line across niagara falls

Do balance with the crucified position

Of a lesser radical submission

Though towards a reverie, my instinct crawls

 

To eat rice hot or cold

Advances so bold

Of a season in each others company

With no labels, no prediction but a trip to Italy

Na arcada com a Mona.

Em certas horas da noite e não de uma forma constante a vida aproxima-se  de uma anedota, como se fôssemos Deuses acima da mera vida mortal e nos recostássemos observando deliciados as cenas da nossa estadia na terra.

 Chegando ao perverso bar de vício e luxúria procurei o sítio para me instalar e estacionar o meu estudo céptico. Uma menina ao balcão vestida com uma quantidade de côr que parecia saída de uma edição de labreguice rústica do cirque d´e Soleil e casais aproveitando a luz escassa e vermelha de ambiente intenso. Enquanto me enojo distraído com um dos mesmos aproximas-se súbita e sorrateiramente algo misterioso e voluptuoso mas com um olhar perdido, de momentânea consideração. Sentou-se na minha pequena côrte e deixou-se estar.

-Sim?

-Sou agressiva, calculo.

-Está bem...

-Achei que sim pelo menos.

-E queres continuar a agressão ou preferes a explicação?

-Prefiro estar.

-Está certo.

Fícamo-nos por uma hora sem trocar palavras a percorrer o terreno entre nós. Olhando, calculando e por fim tocando. Dei-lhe um abraço. Ela apertou-me. A luz afecta todos.

-Sou a Mona.

-E o teu sorriso é enigmático.

-Pois é.

Saímos e sentamo-nos nuns degraus ao pé da casa dos bicos que sobem até vários miradouros e debaixo da arcada estabelecemo-nos como infíeis ao mundo e sinérgicos na nossa invasão simultânea de espaço. Ela adormeceu e quando acordou a Mona deixou-me com um beijo de reencontro e nostalgia opaca. Wasn´t meant to be.

Dissertações hospitaleiras

Após dias árduos de tarefas camponesas levadas a cabo por rapazes sem as mínimas destrezas aconteceu o fatal.
Foi contra uma planta num carro de outrem e não pintou a manta porque teria ficado mal.
Intervenção divina a sua sobrevivência?
Merecedora de escárnio a sua displicência?

Castigada a sua inconveniência com semanas no hospital,
Engessada a sua perna por se ter portado mal.
Agora em casa da vovó mimado até ao fim
Quando confrontado com a questão do conforto a resposta e sim.

Ansioso no entanto para sua liberdade chegar
Nesse dia sim o rapaz irá chorar
Lágrimas de felicidade, choros de alteração de rotina
Gotas de raiva, mad! Escorrem até a menina.

Menina esta, mas quem será
Qual e o objectivo deste nosso jacarandá?
Pequenina e sublime no seu senso comum
Ou belíssima e inconsciente da sua vida que se torna num pum.

A decisão e complicada no entanto atingível e visto que se põe em hipótese uma alem de outra a devoção deve ser meramente incredível.
Mas suponhamos após meses e anos de rejeição absoluta que num dia escuro de inverno ele se transforma numa gruta. Querem as duas abrigo, querem-se as duas recostar. Ele vai deslizar a pedra ou mais uma vez ficar a olhar?

A pedra deslizada cada menina num braço da cúpula diferente
Trocas lancinantes de olhares perturbados e senhores sem duvida também perturbadores. Seu braço esquerdo abana com vigor e o direito vibra com clamor, agora com a palavra amor não se adequa na procura da resposta pois ambas são feitas com a sílaba nua.

Chegou altura de dar estes trocadalhos por termine pois tenho de beber um trago de saké.
Se a vos vos agradou a recitação da minha miséria que vos caia em cima um bicho da “malér”a"

Deidre and the conniving Red Ribbons Part II

C ontrary to all reasonable decisions, Deidre decided to persist straight into the heart of Europe, she hadn't been there ever in her life and if not for Curly's family in the North of Ireland it woud've been difficult to round up money for the overwhelming jorney across the altantic or perhaps through the other side.

Things were beginning to get uncommon with curly, what set out to be a bewilderement by his disposition to help slowly evolved into a certain quest for him to, she was very straightforward with her purposes but she was going to give in, the easy way with which they related to each other was too pleasent to overlook and so, as kinky as can be, on the plane after a couple of hours of conversation a couple of kisses exchanged with warmth and reservation they went to the bathroom at the back and curly had his way, she was happy but so focused on the task at hand that they didn't speak about it for a while.

After a weak of gaelic chants and the milking of massive cows Curly told Ma O'Reilly he was going to Italy and she got a cousin to take them by boat. Transportation was beginning to be sort of their thing because yet again the soft and sweet fornication did take place, on the front deck while the captain was fishing for Codfish. She finally sat down for a talk:

-Look Curly, I really like teh time we spend together and god knows you can take me to the moon once in a while but i don't know if we can afford these distractions at this point so if you don't mind i would really rather wait till we get home.

- But you see my darling, my love for you is vast, and to waste away a perfectly good meditaranean trip wallowing on something we shall carry out only on our arrival to me seems foolish, I would much prefer to continue our most luscious affair. The prime of our life is to be ceased as the only one we have my dear, never fear, for I shall guide you, and take you to the answer you so intend to receive. Okie Dokie?- and he delivered a passionate wet kiss to the swept heart of our little girl. She looked him over and read his eyes, a slight downward arch of her eyebroes accented her reticence but there was no denying how right this delightful man was so she kissed him once again and said:

-I could learn to love you.

-Well, my lesson is already learnt.

No better place to arrive for our recent pair but the city of Venice, they were beginning to relax a little more but work was hard to come by, Curly decided to take up a job as waiter in a cafe right at the piazza de san marcos and Deidre snuffed around for informationn while she found a place to sleep for her lover and herself. An abandoned palazzo and a couple of matresses and sleeping bags was the solution, and right by a river they could hardly identify. One night after Curly, Charles finished off work they decided to go for a stride and momentarily Deidre thought she spotted Jim but this was obviously due to the tired state in which she found herself, they decided to dine at a pleasant restaurant in the heart of the city and definately sink in to each other.

After the replenishment and chain estabilished between their enamorate gazes they left the place and being it a dark night charles though of something:

- What if we steal a yacht down at the dock?

-Are you crazy? Besides, the security is too tight for us to even try to conjure a way.

-I think I know of a way, our house has a basement, if i just swim under the barrier I'll be able to get in no problem and there's a dude at work who does these under the table paint jobs for boat's, he can also remove a couple of pieces to disguise the yacht.

-Okay I guess, i'm up for it.

Let's go then. Round up our shit when we get home and i'll pick you up.

When they arrived at home Curly put on some dark clothes and a black mask. He filled a bottle of water with air and drilled a hole on the top, put in a straw and dived in. Deidre was kind of fearful and got hold of everything as fast as she could, got to the entrance to the dock and tried to create a diversion by flashing herself to the guards, it was so effective that they let her in, she took them both to a booth deeper inside the compound and tried to stall with some dances for as long as she could. When she finally heard the alarm her heart dropped and she ran outside but curly had already gone. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her run like a wild chita and she didn't stop until she was in a dark alley woth no exit and an obvious stench of trouble. Whe she turned back a couple of sailors with buff bodies and mommy tatoos apearred with groggy accents and ill intentions. They grabbed her and although she bravely struggled her way out of her grasp she was shoved by a third one into a boat and was brutally gagged and thrown into a cabin.

Next thing she knew she woke up to with a slpa on the face and the unfortuante news of her whereabouts:

-Did I not tell you to back down you medling cunt? Why would I warn you? For you to savour the victory more delightfully? I told you not to keep on chasing me and now you've forced me to do something i didn't want to do.

-What did you do to him you bitch!- and as she was struck again the chair fell to the floor.

-Watch your language, I owe it to your dad, who's a great lay by the way, to teach you some proper manner's of speach. Now listen up, needn't worry about your bravado lover because a couple of friends have already erradicated him from the face of the earth, but don't worry, it was quick and painless and I've something slighty more mind boggling for you my little tart.

As Deidre shrieked all the bones in her body seemed to crack and her mind collapsed into a gelatinous pile of dung.

-Have you ever heard of a Harem dear Deidre? Well, I shall explain. We have arrived in Ankara, the capital city of Turkey, and I am about to sell you to an oil Lord with a Harem in the middle of the desert and an insaciable taste for young western girls. A harem is a place normally remote in it's location which serves the wishes of it's master. You shall enjoy the company of roughly a hundred women fighting for first string and when called upon you shall deliver your fanny as a sack of meat laid on the feet of rabies infected hounds. So you see, you're fucked.

-Well. doesn't matter. I like fucking, especially Jim, and with you. Fancy a fuck Becca or are you too conservative to suck the rift between my legs?

Becca gave a freaky and ravishing smile and grabbed her between her legs whilst kissing her with her pulsating red tongue.

They arrived on shore and after a few altercations with Jim, trying to understant the error of his ways she was led into a grim and smelly square full of huts and market trollies. They sunk deep into the city and entered an impressive palace that'd knock the white house of it's foundations any day of the week. She was bathed, dressed, prepared and beaten into submission until she was presented before her future lover. After a couple of days of exemplary treatment and a certain probing of her adequacy she was led into the back of a truck with no food and just a pair of knickers, driven into the desert for days that seemed like months. At some point Deidre believed this was her end but it was to imporatant to find Charles alive to die on all this know. The estate resembling a mirage with palmtress and lakes was equally opulent and if not for the chipped away paint oon the walls it woudv'e outdone the latter. She entered singlehandedly a bathing room with dozens of naked women gazing her threatfully and a couple of them doing biblically forbidden thins in the pool. There were all sorts of women, from the beautiful to the disgustin, the old to the young and the incredibly young and there was even a boy or too looking her ever like the hounds of hell waiting for their serving. It seemed to be paradise and the antecipation of what would happen next sort of aroused her but she decided to stick to a corner and remain there until she was called upon. And she was...

End of part 2