Construir O Nosso Ninho

Para que um rouxinol que amo continue a cantar.

Who's The BEST?!

“The Ambassadors” by Holbein as a Clear Reflection of the Renaissance Society and Thinking

Introduction
I shall be discussing the importance of “The Ambassadors” as an historical piece, pointing out the reasons and having a detailed approach to the meanings behind the art work. I shall also be talking about the Age of Discoveries and the society back in the time the painting was done. For that I will use the internet, and two books: “Inferno” by Alighieri and “Os Lusíadas” by Luís de Camões.

Analysis
The painting is Hans Holbein’s authorship. He painted it in 1533 and it’s an oil on oak. The dimensions of it are 207 cm × 209.5 cm and it is currently displayed in the National Gallery, in Trafalgar Square, London. We may observe the clear influences of the typical Netherlands’ style for instead of the actual transcription of what he is seeing, the painter paints objects with their own meaning, as symbols. Now, this is when the controversy starts, for we know what the symbols are but some have more than one meaning, as if they were representing two or more different/opposite things. For starters, let’s begin with the facts.

There are two globes (one terrestrial and one celestial), a quadrant, a torquetum, a polyhedral sundial and some textiles: the floor mosaic, and an oriental carpet on the upper shelf. There are two gentlemen standing and the way they are flanking the table enables us to see the books, musical and navigation instruments. The men are clearly not commoners, for their closes are very pompous, but let’s describe the instruments first.

In 1533 Vasco Da Gama had already found the sea way to India and Brazil had also been discovered. The link between Europe and the Orient becomes very strong at this point, and the same with the exploitation of African and South American colonies. For that reason, the navigation instruments were the top of technology at that time, as we can see some examples on the top shelf.

“Dou-vos tambem aquele ilustre Gama,
Que para si de Eneias toma a fama.”

“I shall also give you the wonderful Gama,
Whom Aeneas would like to have his fame.”

Luís de Camões (1974) Os Lusíadas, edited by Porto Editora, Porto/Lisboa.

This Age of Discovery was a big step towards Globalization. On the bottom shelf we can see two books and some musical instruments. Music represents culture and the origins. It also means entertainment and the exploration of the body, contrasting to the exploration of the world (going back to the Age of Discovery). Opposing that sinful interpretation on the musical instrument, we have an open church music book, too, showing the devotion to God despite the technology and all the power and highlighting the Renaissance gives to Mankind. The other book is a symbol of knowledge.

The two gentlemen are dressed quite differently. The one by the left hand side is dressed up as a noble, with some very posh clothes and a golden medallion around his neck. The other one is dressed as a cleric, a priest. These are the two engines of The Age of Discovery: the nobles as the people who planned the journeys and developed science through studies; and the Church by financially supporting the nobles as they took the chance to join them in order to spread the word of God.

As demystifying the truths the Church have spread over the Middle Ages, the rebirth of the Classics was a great deal for learned men, putting them in touch with philosophy and the relationship between men and death.

“O poeta guardou um pouco e depois disse: Ja que ele se cala, nao percas a ocasiao e fala tu; pergunta-lhe o que bem te aprouver.”

“The poet after a while said: Now that he is quiet, don’t waste this opportunity and speak yourself; ask him whatever you would like to know.”

Dante Alighieri (2007), A Divina Comedia, Edited by Publicacoes Europa-America, Lda, Mem Martins.

Death was always a mystery to men, as well as it still is for us today. In the bottom middle we may observe a skull painted in anamorphic perspective, which Holbein deliberately wanted it to be riddle. Now, if we pay close attention to meaning of the symbols we might conclude that there is heaven on the top shelf, the Earth (land of the living) on the bottom shelf and bellow it, we have Death, making the three worlds a Man can live.

There are obviously more interpretations of the symbols as we can find “The Ambassadors' Secret: Holbein and the World of the Renaissance” for sale online for on this website: http://www.reddotbooks.co.uk/ambassadors-secret-holbein-world-renaissance-p-2436.html

Conclusion
Despite the various possible interpretations, this brilliant painting sums up the Renaissance with the aim of showing off the top technology of the time as Mankind was developing very quickly in the fields of science, but also reflecting on the strong conscience of Christian Religion’s points of view on life and the contribution of the Church to Science. Personally it’s interesting to observe the relationship between Science and Church, today so separate, but back then so strongly linked in a co-operational way. The Middle Ages’ mentality is still very rooted, but men are taking the chance to start exploring the World, for there is pride in being in this picture accordingly to the gentlemen’s posture. It is also believed that the man on the right hand side is Georges de Selve, Bishop of Lavaur and the man on the left hand side to be Jean de Dinteville, Seigneur of Polisy, French ambassador to the court of Henry VIII for most of 1533.

Abrir Os Olhos E Não Ver

On my way home people walk through past me

On my way home people walk through past me
With a strange kind of dark sparkle in their eyes.
And as I think of a poem for my girl
The skies above light me in this darkness.
The people in a hurry are taken
By their sacred duties towards the World
While I'm driven by my sleepiness and love
They ensure the day of tomorrow to come.
One day I hope to contribute to them
For all I can do is dream about you
As life passes me by and I forget
My name, my time, my life, my pride, oh my.

Context Essay Jam Solo

25 de Abril (1789)

"You in the barracks listen to this! The people of Paris sleep in their beds, you have no chance, no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?"

25 de Abril (2009)

Dizer que o que se segue é atitude 25 de Abril, seria desvalorizar a minha própria atitude diária perante a vida. No entanto, acho que posso voltar a focar-me neste tema abertamente, já que costumo escrever sobre isto, mas numa forma mais dissipada.

Numa sociedade tao avancada em que já se vai 'a lua, há computadores portateis com acesso 'a internet para as classes médias, excelentes redes de transporte, será que ainda há motivo para protesto, ou estamos realmente perto do apogeu económico e político do Mundo?
Há Guerra e há fome; só por isso sou obrigado a conformar-me. Que tipo de prisao é esta em que todos afirmam que somos livres, em que podemos escolher os nossos líderes através de votos? A prisao comeca precisamente quando afirmam que somos livres - e é por aqui que vou comecar.


Uma pessoa nasce sabendo que vai morrer. A pessoa já está em contagem decrescente desde a primeira inspiracao e isso nem a ciencia deverá alterar, porque ainda somos parte da Natureza. O que o Ser Humano pode fazer é aproveitar o pouco tempo que tem vivo, explorando as áreas que gostam e vivendo ao máximo, levando uma vida ociosa ou extremamente activa, de acordo com o que preferirem - mas escolhendo! Uma das perguntas que nos fazem nos primeiros anos de escolaridade é "O que é que queres ser quando fores grande?". As pessoas estudam 15 anos seguidos para depois terem um emprego, para poderem sustentar-se, senao passarao dificuldades, e depois reformam-se e morrem pouco tempo depois. Quem nao seguir esta sequencia, terá problemas.

O dinheiro é a base da sociedade moderna, mas já vem de há muito tempo, refiro-me a todo o tipo de moeda. Qualquer trabalhador receberá créditos em forma de dinheiro como forma de recompensa. Esse trabalhador sai 'a rua e ve as cores dos anúncios que o incitam a gastar esses créditos. Passando a vida a trabalhar e a gastar os créditos, vamos sobrevivendo até ao dia da nossa morte, prestando pouca homenagem ao corpo e a alma, morrendo muitas vezes sem nos termos sequer conhecido. E para onde vai esse dinheiro? Vai todo para o Governo, em forma de impostos. Recebemos parte do salário, porque parte é descontada para impostos; seguimos para a rua para comprar algo para comer e parte desse dinheiro para impostos; a pessoa a quem compramos as coisas há-de querer comprar algo para si e voltará a pagar impostos - assim todos os salários do Mundo vao-se dissolvendo em impostos que vao todos parar a um só sítio: o governo. É um ciclo em que só um órgao beneficia. O Governo é o órgao que comeca as Guerras e que distribui o pao pelas nossas bocas. E sao estas as pessoas que dizem que és livre.


Proponho uma sociedade sem qualquer tipo de dinheiro em que as pessoas contribuam com o que mais gostam de fazer, deixando a maior parte do trabalho para as máquinas. Os bens básicos como a alimentacao, saúde, acomodacao e transportes deverao ser gratuitos na medida em que nada será pedido em troca. Haverá assim mais tempo para o desenvolvimento individual de forma a ajudar a colectividade. As nocoes de poder cairao de forma brusca e haverá muito mais justica ética e social.

Quando entro no metro em Londres e vejo o desespero das pessoas entrarem, espremendo-se todas, com medo de chegar tarde a um sítio faz-me pensar uma coisa: "Nao, nao somos livres."

Five Years In Love With The Same Lady

Crack him up so you can see what's inside
Let the soft breeze breathe over it
While people eat around our table
Which is full of our own food.

There is now a tempest outside
And everybody runs to hide
Leaving the body wide cracked wide open
Behind, shaking of fear.
But fear not, you!

For tomorrow you shall kiss
The most beautiful lady in the World.
She has everything there was to be earned.
Such an image I cannot come closer.
I did kiss her, and she never knew it.

She looked me in the eyes and made something
To me that I still don't understand.
She changed me and that is above me
For all I can give her back is love.

Blue eyes, long golden hair, frekles,
flamenco and those lips that defeat fear.
Love has the weirdest nationalities.
And big distances have become part of me
And of what I want.

I am in love with you.
And that hurts me bad
In a kind of good way.
I am happy
But sad.
I cry
Of happiness.
And the more I love you, the more I miss you,
the more "tenho saudades de ti".
And that makes me happy,
Chelsea Randall.
It's a good pain,
it's good.

Pink Floyd High On Skittles!

New Project Rolling

Richard Cant

Day 1 – 22nd April 2009

Jaccobeans, yayy! Right, we’ve just started working on the New Project before we crack on with the last one before Summer holidays: the mythical History Living Project. This one will last us for six weeks. We are doing scenes out of “The Changeling” by Thomas Middletown and William Rowley. Now, how do these two guys write a play together? Because there are two plots, the main one and the sub-plot, one took over each of them. Cool beans! Our director is called Richard Cant. He says he’s graduated from Central School of Speech and Drama twenty years ago and for the last ten years he has worked in Telly as an actor and started directing shows. It’s good to know who you are working with, therefore we finished a bit earlier so he could have small ten-minute interviews just to get to know us a bit better.

Basically, I am fucked. I have failed my articulation module last term, for my RP is still not good enough to be called RP. It’s good though, for I have clear aims to work on. Fortunately, by the end of this year, I may be abble to speak RP as myself fluently. This play is definitely going to be a challenge (“changeling”, that was close!) for I believe it is going to help me to change (“changeling”, there it is, ha!) my natural accent. But for the moment I am fucked.

Our homework is to prepare the sightreading of the scenes for tomorrow. It’s quite a long play (three hours length) and, despite I remained quiet when Richard asked the whole group if anyone has not read the play, I read the wikipedia synopsis for now and am about to read the whole play from the top now. Hurray!

Now, the play itself is quite interesting. If you are really interested, you might as well just pop into wikipedia and pleasure yourself.

We did a physical workshop. Did we roll on the floor like Autumn leaves and jumped and threw ourselves again on the floor? No, that is just silly. A Physical workshop, in oposition to a voice workshop, is working focusing on the body as a way of expression, using a few words here and then, as the voice workshop you would be exploring different resonances within your body and vocal range.

So, we played with status/stakes for the play is pretty much about social status and who tells whom to do what. We had an exercise with cards (from Ace to 10) in which in pairs we would play our level of authority (without the partner knowing which level we are playing) and interact using just the words “Yes”, “No” and “You”. Then, in the end, you would have to guess the numbers. We also had to walk from one side of the class to the other playing a number.

We did some exercises focusing on the iambic pentameter like walking in five tempus in “and one, and two, and three, and four, and five” scheme. “shall I comPAre THEE to a SUmmer’s DAY?” kinda thing.

And that was pretty much it, apart from the long talk Richard had with us, and “all that kinda thing” like Jimi Hendrix would say. Off I am to read the play. Hopefully I’ll write a page after every rehearsal. Ha, but I am hopeless!

Aquarium - Le Carnaval Des Animaux

Ali vai o Poeta

Ali vai o Poeta que amou sem pedir,
Que se entregou logo quando nasceu
Aos sofredores que teimam em partir,
E que chorou tanto que emudeceu.

Com as suas lágrimas alimentou o Povo,
Com as suas palavras a História
De um velho que para sempre será novo
Perdido no corpo, mas ganho na memória.

Ali segue o Poeta que se sacrificou
Porque achava que tinha de o fazer.
O tanto que soube e outro tanto que falou
De costas para o Mundo no amanhecer.

Pegou no Tesouro e levantou-o bem alto
Para todos verem de que é feito a vida.
Foi infeliz e foi dar a um planalto
Onde passam ovelhas mas há falta de comida.

Ali levam o Poeta que nada tem a dizer
Deitado no caixão que o Povo lhe escolheu.
Ali nos levam a nós, os Poetas fáceis de vencer,
Pela gente que nos ouviu mas nunca respondeu.

Falsos poetas que fazem a calma no sereno,
Dando amor a gente de coração pequeno.
Que os Poetas escrevem sem alento,
Enquanto nós fomos levados pelo sentimento.

O Prometido é Devido

"It was a good work Carlos, and the work you've done with Tim's character was evident and the relationship believable. Trust your instinct, go for it from the start. Much more focus and more positive attitude in the ensemble work, contributing more to the team work."

Prometido é devido e, como tal, de uma das notas mais fracas, em mês e meio, passei a uma das notas mais altas da Escola no último projecto - 65/80.

Não há cá pão para malucos, meus amigos.

FAQ
E como é que é estudar num dos cinco melhores conservatórios de Teatro do Reino Unido?
- Sabe a pato.

Vá, mais este período (Jaccobeans - oh no! - e Living History Project) e depois é América do Sul, como prometi no Natal. Este gajo é só promessas. hahaha

Post 300 - Destino

Ando sem saber para onde vou,
Mas sei como lá chegar,
De braços abertos, como a Baía,
Esse sítio de onde vim.

White Russian

É com muito orgulho que ponho aqui o video do primeiro concerto (17 Abril 2009) da banda do meu ex-parceiro numa banda que tive, e do meu melhor amigo, o Tony.

Navio Negreiro

Mensagem a todos os Adolescentes do Mundo

Atitude não é agressividade.
Paz e Amor para todos!

Preto Velho

An old Black man sheds a tear when asked by a reporter what it's like to be old, to be poor and to be black.

"Aquele preto, tão preto

Com aquela barba branca, tão preta..

E aquele olhar tão meigo de quem espera ganhar

um sorriso incolor.."

Secos e Molhados

"A fellow cynic once reminded me that in order to believe in the American Dream you had to be asleep."

A Kabuki actor once said,

"If you think that someone is a better actor than you, he is far, far superior. If you think that you are both the same, he is distinctly better than you. If you feel he is inferior, then the two of you are actually the same standard."

The Invisible Actor, Yoshi Oida.

This is a story from China

"Once upon a time there was a rich man who had four wives. The first wife was extremely beautiful, and he took her everywhere with him, and proudly displayed her to everyone he met. Whatever she asked for he bought her: jewels, fine silks, rare delicacies. He always bathed with her, and would humbly wash her from head to foot. Eventually she became extremely vain and conceited, and started ordering her husband about.
The second wife had been acquired after a lot of struggle. He had worked hard, negociated, and fought to gain this bride, for marriage had consolidated his position in the community. He loved her very much, and was pleased with this second marriage since it brought him a sense of security. Although he felt less real love towards this new wife (since he had been force to work so hard to gain her), he swore he would do anything for her. He told her that he was willing to become a cheat, a murderer, or whatever was necessary to ensure that she stayed with him.
His third wife was not particularly important to him. He felt mild affection towards her, since when he had first married her, she had been young and attractive. She had accompanied him on his frequent travels, mainly so that he could continue to enjoy a sexual relationship when away from home. But as time went on, he started to see her weaknesses and faults. He remembered that in the beginning it had been different, and this led to shouting and quarrels. He called her 'stupid2, 'insensitive', 'ill-educated' and 'idiotic'. They nearly divorced, but when she suddenly presented her husband with a baby, he decided to continue with the marriage.
The fourth wife was treated like a servant. The husband ordered her about, beat her, and never gave her any type of gift or praise. Not even kind words. The poor woman was in great dispair, since her husband loved her so little. Eventually she became weak and depressed, constantly worrying about her behaviour, and desperately trying to please her husband. She scuttled around the house, flinching in fear of yet another harsh word or blow.
One day the Government asked the man to undertake a long journey beyond the frontier of the empire. Since by now he was quite old, he didn't want to travel on his own, and decided to ask one of his wives to accompany him. He loved the first wife the most, and so he went with his request. When he asked her to come on the journey, she looked coldly at him, then replied, 'No. Never, never, never.'
With those words she turned back on him. The husband was very angry, but nothing he said would move her. So he went to the second wife, and made the same request. Her expression didn't alter as she continued brushing her hair. She responded with a single word: 'No.'
He was shocked by the heartlessness, and decided to approach the third wife. She was the one who organized the day-to-day running of the household, and looked after him when he was ill, so he felt she would be well qualified to care for him on this long and arduous journey. When he asked her to accompany him, she burst into tears, saying, 'I really want to go with you, but I must stay and look after the baby. Also, I am scared of going somewhere so unfamiliar. In fact I'm terrified. I'll go with you as far as the border, but after that, please forgive me, I can't go any further.'
He agreed to this and went off in search of his fourth wife. Since he hadn't treated her at all well, he was rather doubtful about her reply. But she said her job was to stay by the side of her husband, and stated that she was ready to go anywhere with him, even into Hell itself. The man was both surprised and touched by her willingness to accompany him.
The day of departure arrived. The first wife stayed in bed, refused to speak or even alter the coldness of her expression. The second wife reacted in the same way, saying nothing, not even wishing goodbye. The third wife was busy organizing all the details of the journey. She kept her word and travelled as far as the frontier. When they arrived there, she wept, kissed her husband, then turned and returned home. The man travelled on into this strange foreign country, accompanied by only his fourth wife.

So what are these four 'wives'? The first one is the body, the second is possessions, the third is your spouse, or relationships with people. And the fourth? It is your real self. The frontier is death; your body and possessions will not travel with you. Your husband or wife can go only as far as the border. The only one that stays with you is the one you have so badly abused; yourself."

The Invisible Actor, Yoshi Oida.

Amor nos olhos

Raquel dos olhos verdes que se perdem
Fica deitada na relva virada para o céu
Segue as nuvens que cantam e se despem
Suspirando pelo dia em que usará o véu.

Comandas o Mundo com os teus lábios sem dono
Frios por fora, mas quentes em chama por dentro do cimento
Sabes que haverá vida, apesar de ser Outono
E dancam os teus cabelos dourados 'a vontade do vento.

Movem-se os moínhos com as águas passadas
E regam os campos do meu futuro
Fazendo brotar rebentos nas paisagens privadas
Neste solo macio, que outrora fora duro.

Neste mesmo campo um dia serás encontrada
Em paz, na tua tão necessária solidão,
Num misterioso prado de flores deitada
Para provar ao Mundo que sempre tiveste razão.
E até sempre continuarão felizes estes olhos cor de mel
Tingidos por um sonho chamado Teresa Raquel.

Clouds as memories

When I was born
A tall man dressed in white
Spanked me until I cried.

From that day on
I kinda stopped being a kid
And into this dream state I slid.

Levitar

Fantástica é a forca da gravidade que diz 'a chuva para onde vai,
Que faz uma cultura cair, se for preciso,
E a lua ficar por perto.

Enorme é a grandeza do céu que dá tecto 'as nossas cabecas,
Pendurando nuvens e estrelas 'a noite
Para irmos sonhando.

Grande é o mar, aquilo que comecou por ser água e sal
E hoje é a alma de um povo
E a minha também.

Forte é o vento que nos agita na nossa vida passiva
Como se fossemos velas num bolo
E alguém precisasse de fazer anos.

Imortal é Portugal, país pequeno de gente grande,
Para sempre Descobridores, e que tem
A gravidade, o céu, o mar e o vento, não como prisioneiros
Ou sequer aliados, mas como amigos,
Que o Mundo está em guerra
E a única coisa porque Portugal luta
É por continuar a ser quem é.

Quantas palavras são precisas para escrever um poema?

Uma:

"Amor".

A Procura

Beijas o destino
Como quem beija um amigo
Não fiques para trás
Não fiques sozinho
Que amor?
O que te empurra para a frente

Segues em caminho
Um pouco perdido
Sumo de ananás
Que te sabe a vinho
Que dor!
Esta é um pouco diferente

Ovelhas comem linho
Num pasto grande, vazio
Quem não controla o que faz
Fica pequenino
Muda de cor
Muda-se completamente

Procuras um focinho
Num corpo despido
Noites frias e más
Aguenta-te um bocadinho
É vapor
As palavras da gente

Eu já perdi o tino
E sei que estou mendigo
Uma rosa lilás
No teu jardinzinho
Que flor?
Sou uma besta preza 'a corrente

Spring Holidays' Poem

Infinity doesn't start with me
Although I am a dot.
My love, look what you've done to me
And I was just a dot.

The time doesn't run for me
Although I am a tiny second
My love, now look at me
I was just a second.

Expelled from Time
Fighting the mirrors of my life
I'd be on my own.
You are my wife...

It's good to be back!

Cascais Tem Mais Encanto Na Hora Da Despedida

"Não é tarde, nem é cedo:
É um dedo no cú."

Uma Interpretação Existencialista Da Vida

Ditados

Cedo deitar e cedo erguer?
Manda-os mas é foder!

Behind the Scenes

The Journalist, the Vulture, and the Child

Wednesday April 12, 2006

The haunting photo of a vulture stalking an emaciated Sudanese girl who'd collapsed on her way to a feeding station won photographer Kevin Carter a Pulitzer Prize in 1994. Carter also become notorious for sticking to the journalistic principle of being an observor and not getting involved -- he left after taking his photo and neither he, nor the New York Times, which first published the photo on 26 March 1993, knew what happened to her. (Looking at the photo, it's hard to imagine a pleasant ending.) A few months later after collecting his Pulitzer, Carter committed suicide, the violence he'd encountered in his life as a journalist, especially in South Africa, becoming too much to live with.

Outro blog

http://www.eyecatchypics.com/2008/09/07/photos-that-changed-the-world-part-1/

Imagens que valem mais de mil palavras.

Burning Monk

"As a protest to the Diệm slow and unreliable reforms in Vietnam, the Buddhist monks have resorted to immolation, such as this Mahayana Buddhist monk, Thỉch Quảng Đức. Đức burned himself alive across the outskirts of Saigon, mainly because of the harshness done by the South Vietnam government to his fellow Buddhist monks.

Đức was re-cremated after he burned himself; his heart meanwhile remained in one piece, and because of this he was regarded as a Bodhisattva by the other Buddhist monks and followers. His act of self-immolation increased the pressure on the Diệm administration to implement their reform laws in South Vietnam.

More monks followed Đức’s footsteps as well, and later on in November 1963, Diệm was killed by an army coup."

Homens de plasticina

Homens de plasticina a esticar-se
Porque querem ser mais que o que são.
Será que vão modificar-se?
Dizem que uns sim, outros não...

Anjos

Os anjos fazem amor e não têm sexo.
Trocam saliva molhando-se só por dentro,
Lacrimando interiormente em felicidade e amor.
Falam dos vivos que sofrem de dor.
Compreendem, mas esquecem.
Beijam e adoecem
Sem ficar doentes ou vencidos,
Anjos dum exército de prevenidos.

Gente vivida de emoção e calor.
Gente que se perde e se vence.
Gente que nunca terá valor.
Gente que nunca erra ou aprende.

Porque amar não é um erro, nem castigo,
É antes um dever e um compromisso,
É um favor a toda a humanidade,
É o força desta irmandade.

E quem são estes anjos de que falo,
São só anjos obscenos e derrotados?
A eles eu pertenço e aqui me calo,
Pois não sou Deus, nem um dos seus escravos.

O que fazer para a eles pertencer?
Que mais dar para além de um abraço e um beijo?
Dou-vos tudo, porque nada tenho a perder
Que apesar das feridas, nunca me aleijo.

Sou cicatrizes e palavras de sempre na pele,
Já fui vencido por este fado cruel,
Mas se eu me tivesse rendido,
Já ter-me-ia entregue, perdido.

Digo-te apenas o que vi e o que sei,
Sei que és capaz, porque eu também o fiz.
É possível nascer e morrer Rei
Ouve o que este anjo te diz.

Despreza o amor e ódio terás,
Ama com o corpo e nada encontrarás.
Nunca te deixaremos cair na desgraça,
Porque a gente, como nós, que ama
Encontras em toda a parte,
Na rua,
Na praça,
Na tua,
Na minha,
Na tua mãe,
Teu ancestral,
Em todo o nosso
Portugal.

Porque te amamos.
Não por opção,
Assim felizmente nos lamentamos,
Por amor - já disse - e não por razão.

Por opção?
Não...
Nunca foi por razão.
Mas assim somos,
Fracos na força que Deus;
Elevando-nos aos Céus,
Marcando os passos do destino,
Vencendo os prados brancos,
Que não vês
Enquanto não abrires os olhos.
Que não sentes,
Enquanto não entregares o corpo.

Não te mates:
Sacrifica-te!
Não te gastes:
Imortaliza-te.

E vem ter connosco.
Senta-te neste muro que não tem fim.
Neste muro de tijolos acentados pelos teus pais,
Senta-te. Sente o muro do futuro.
Sente o muro que é do futuro e do passado.
Deixa-te cair para trás e flutuar,
Que o tempo já parou
E para cima é só ar.

Ar que sopra e nos leva a inteligência,
Que um homem não compreende tudo.
Que nos leva a adolescência,
Que nos faz um velho surdo e mudo,
Mas com sentidos!
Com emoção!
Com a arte
Na junção,
Entre aquilo que se entende
E aquilo que se quer aqui,
Nasce um anjo que te mente
E que se mata por ti.

Imortalidade para quê?
Serenidade para quê?
Os anjos nasceram para lavrar a terra
E para um dia se enterrarem nela.

A Poesia Não Tem De Ser Triste

Que me falem de coisas alegres
E daquilo que pode acontecer.
Que me matem de febres,
Que cá estarei no amanhecer.

Vivamos na verdadeira escuridão
Aonde o amor é o guia mais forte.
Que tudo na vida tem solução,
Tudo, à excepção da morte.

E se for para morrer que seja!
E que seja já hoje de manhã,
Porque quem vive como quem beija
Não espera pelo dia de amanhã.

Gritem os cabelos e as borbuletas,
Que se soltem as lágrimas dos pré-destinados.
Quem anda em pé, com pernas ou de muletas,
Pode sempre mudar arrepender-se dos seus pecados.

Mas é preciso seguir de olhos fechados
Com os sentidos bem abertos.
Precisamos de ser amados,
Apesar de inseguros, fracos e incertos.

Temos sentimentos e não razão.
Nós somos artistas do nosso Mundo.
Nas mãos levamos o coração,
E, no peito, o que há de mais profundo.

É possível viver e escrever sobre a felicidade.
Nada está perdido, e há tanto para vencer.
Partilhemos todos esta cumplicidade
De ser feliz sabendo que um dia vai morrer.

Deixemos os feitiços, deixemos de inventar,
Vivamos sempre até chegarem os dias seguintes.
Deixemo-nos de ódio e de nos armar,
Somos todos pedintes

Sejamos felizes também.
Sejamos exemplo para a geração que lá vem.

Gato Preto, Gato Branco

Conversas com o Mar

Adultos de Pedra
Feitos e Crescidos.
Aprenderam a Quimera,
Perderam os Feitiços.

Crianças Apedrejadas
Pegam agora nos Ferros
Acabando Cristalizadas
Num Pesadelo aos Berros.

De Amor em Amor
Passamos na Maresia.
Quem rejeita a dor
Rejeita a Poesia.

O que havemos de fazer?
Pergunta-me o Mar.
Quem sou eu para responder,
Que Só nasci para Amar.

Escrevo Para Não Morrer

Escrevo para não morrer
E para pouco sofrer.
Faço novas regras todas as vezes
Que pego neste tabuleiro.
Brinco com o fogo,
E queimo o dinheiro.
Fico sem alma e sem corpo,
Mas sempre inteiro.

Beijo aquilo que não se conhece,
É tudo escuro quando se amanhece
No leito de um passado contente
Feito num futuro para sempre.
Brinco com o tempo
E gasto o presente.
Fico codificado em poesia
Num papel que cheira a maresia.

Entrego porque nasci para oferecer,
Já que nasci e um dia vou mor...
No vento encontro solução,
No medo a multidão.
Brinco com o espaço,
E no papel me desfaço.
Fico puro e verdadeiro,
E só o tempo leva-me

inteiro.