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Archive for Fevereiro, 2012|Monthly archive page

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In Sem categoria on Fevereiro 23, 2012 at 6:03 am

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Mecanização do íntimo.

In Sem categoria on Fevereiro 21, 2012 at 8:47 am

Eram tantas as construções, aspirações entre pedras e parafusos, fabricavam-se até cheiros disfarçados de perfumes que se tornariam fantasias. Os romances copiados dos livros, o agir da televisão. A monotonia era corrigida com mais monotonia em escala industrial.

As máquinas tornavam-se parte dos homens, a espiritualidade decompor-se-ia em cálculos quiméricos. Liquefazendo-se tudo num pensamento doce e eternizado, palpável aos sentidos mais ignorantes. Aqueles que todo mundo possuía sem esforço, sem crítica, sem sensação.

Não era necessário imaginar o impossível, ele se fazia “impossível” e apenas inalcançável pelo comum. Atropelado pelos sonhos, utopias. Enegrecido pela história. Sem força, sem luz, sem potência.

-Touché! Eliminado por alguma razão.

Dillema

In Sem categoria on Fevereiro 21, 2012 at 12:13 am

The taste of freedom was tense, packed with every possible opportunity! Indescribable, wanton, free, libidinous. With huggable body. Naked. Complex. Gross. Demi-goddess.

Freedom could be the charm of sorcerer. Or the bricks of mason. Even thought by a housekeeper. Freedom would be the toy of a child, street sweeper’s broom, in most cases, human, planet earth rotating in space.

There was, or would treat or daydream that can be imploded in the bowels of freedom. The impression is aware of what was released just beautiful and seductive. And it is only, just known by those who knew what were dancing to the music, defying it, while they followed the steps in pace, placing their disagreement with the harmony.

Sometimes freedom is disguised in: – I love you. Many other times, their camouflage itself was a long shot, or jump from an airplane without a parachute. Thus, it could be far less than expected … As the apple of Eve, or even a bicycle. It was so free.

– I want more …

Talked to the time the freedom. Independent, while acting without any right bonds that denote identity. Fickle, greedy, glutton.

Free will enslaved.

In this sense, his dream was no longer being. Pure and simple.

Wanting everything, to then one day, the last of the days, put aside and have property when saying – I know, I took, I felt, lived, flew, loved, hated, killed, revived, I wrote, I ran, I came, betrayed, I swam, played, listened … I died.

Long live to the freedom.

HEAVY

In Sem categoria on Fevereiro 20, 2012 at 8:32 pm

By all sides, with all forms those are possible beyond the imagination of that human, perhaps, rational. A weight! Incalculable to rigid. Admite the depths of hell and find heaven.

Coarser than the sun in the womb of a virgin. Opressor.

“Fat eye” of others misery, victim of destiny that not accepts the success of lightness. Even the lightness have a weight, it loads the technology of a look. In other words, the history. “Filled” by the forgetfulness of what does not please.

Chronos silent scream… –Icarus flew off, but not uploaded with an iron ball attached to the foot. Neither with a chain attached to traditions, morality, financial interest, the easy life, the possible and convenient, and the distances.

He just flew. And standing. Protected by wings around his orthodox body.

During the flight is inquired in a distinct way, almost subtle, a little bit evil, overflowed with some kind of malice that only the smart and adventurous are able to feel, for having at one time embraced the devil (or felt the embrace of), kissed him on the mouth, and said in his ear, secretly, I love you. Any devil.

But wishing the worst, most terrible. The ones that plays the game regardless of the essences and consequences, free. Still anchored to what is illegal in the sea of sensations.

“And in contempt of the soul looked into the soul and believed in the soul wanting what the purest in the soul exist and accepting the soul and the spirit and the temptations of that one soul as now two and became much more”, holistic! Without any weight. With the entire weight of the world, the future.