Guaiaquius

Guaiaquius

Lápis azuis

Alegrias coloridas,

Embebedadas

Nas asas abertas

De seus filhos de luz.

Lêvedos bebericantes

Em copos de vidro,

Quebrados no vôo

Dos pássaros furta-cor.

Eles passam em revoada,

Levam tudo, desbaratinam.

Encucados com suas

Penosas tensões,

Perdem penas e revoam, reluzem

Nos cacos do vidro quebrados

Ao chão,

Transparentes reflexos.

Chuva de lêvedos processados,

Respingos reluzentes,

Mais reflexos menos transparentes,

Pedaços das vidas,

Das penas;

um sinal e as revoadas. 

Viti Grossman, "Vôo com Pássaros"

A Tribute to São Paulo

I was chasing after a lure

When I tripped over a curse

And fell onto a puddle

Of low self-esteem and depreciation.

Ignited by the wet fury

Of ugly words and humiliation

I shouted back at the creature

That was propelling itself towards

My direction.

Surrounded by black fumes

And a foul smell,

The all-so-called nation's giant

Spit its rotten core on my face

And made me swallow its agony –

Its willingness to show off such

Despicable, infamous attitude

Disguised as pretty neighborhoods

Caged by fences and walls

And barbwire and fire

And mainly by condescendence,

Disgust, nonchalance and hatred.

Its lack of beauty, respect and time

Was shoved down my throat

As its pace and scorn

Were tied around my waist

As if I had no choice

But drown in its universe

Of brutality, greed and fierce certainty

Of being always right

And essential

And driven

And above 

Whereas, in fact, 

It’s nothing but built 

upon sulphuric hell.

Its pride for being an engine

Blurs the view of those

Who can’t see

It’s  just leading us all

To rock bottom.

The lights are off

And the gray rain never stops.

 Imagem retirada do blog http://www.ricaperrone.com.br/

recomendo o post http://www.ricaperrone.com.br/terra-da-garoa-e-do-mau-humor/, relacionado a esta minha postagem. 

Silent tear

An acute smile opens up

In the shape of white, polished teeth.

One or two fair locks of hair

Are taken by the breeze

Through her sculptured

Face.

Three little dimples show

In her grossly (glossly) made-up

Chin and cheeks.

The foundation and blush accumulate

In the pores in the dimples in the chin and

In the cheeks.

A golden chain

Carries a diamond-shaped heart

On the fine line of her collarbone.

For one or two reasons, she drops a silent tear

The make-up doesn’t hide. 

Rimi Yang, Sad Smile

Drama Glory

Once upon a time

There was you

And me

And everybody else

There was some truth

To believe

A connection to pursue

A turmoil to unweave

You and me

And everybody else

Goin’ round and round

Bottom-of-the sea bound

All looking for love

Life

Madness and the like

Someone to be

Something to say

Somewhere to get to

They were we

We were you, they

All spinning in a cycle,                   

In a circle,

In life itself

In story-drama soap

There we were

Pursuing thrill and joy

And a hint of madness

To spice up and season

The all so boring solace

Of shallow human being

Kyle Reynolds, Turmoil

Contos de natal, episódio 3

Pedrinho foi um bom menino durante todo o ano. Mas os pais dele não conseguiram trabalho em lugar nenhum, apesar de eles dizerem sempre que queriam um. O que Pedrinho realmente quer saber é: por que o Papai Noel não visita as crianças quando seu pai e sua mãe não tem um emprego? É por que eles foram maus? Mas então, eles não deveriam ganhar presente. Pedrinho ainda devia ganhar o dele. Não devia?