mgenthbjpafa21

Não quero isto
Não quero isto 

Apenas as penas do pato
À vista da negaça, imagético fato
Reza pela plumbea chuva
Que tarda.

Note the artificiality of the days passing by.
Note the incapacity of one and the outstanding power of you all,
Powered by ethics and technical state-of-the-art means.

Which image is fading along with mine I ignore.
Resolve as you should.
Forget the rags we once used between fights and fucks.
Never mind traps and lies, worldwide used and abused.

MTV music awards and Horses at Golegã.

Children always come first.

Chinese and Muslims cross my path saying no you can't.
Society acting on principles like moral duty, liability to fathers lost in nebulae.
Skies above helicopters roars fulfilling schedules.
Earth down tunnels wait functionality.

Slazov Zizek against little me at the margin of the big scheme?
Logistics and labs, plants and corporations, non-profit organizations.

Who's going to write creatively?
Das Wört ist das Leben des Seins.

My being wrong has had no repercussion in present attitude.
I sincerely don't know such reason, which should exist,
Be liquid and transparent to a father of seven...

Radio distracted my reasoning.
What was I saying?
Just bubbling.
Tear your bad emotions apart and welcome to new illustration.

Get a bike and don't write.

Hyperbolic fuck should be gratifying, 

I've had hyper hyperbolic ones. 

Fucking, loving between us, 

One weekabolic. 

Some you know says,

Third day of a seven day binge… 

Let it be so, it's probably the best, 

Let it confound the ones not pairs, 

Because, those who are equals, 

They simplybolic easily what is easy to get.

Young people and to those who believe to be expert
You should not give up your time trying to provoke a monster
That by its own nature is always in a fight- flight situation.

I say you dearly, to all apprentices
Who want to overthrow their masters,
Those who are to be,

As the question of the
Irresistible force, 
Immovable object,
Old false question.
History is full of the appearance of wiseness,
And we got Magister Dixit hardwired in us. 

There is always a soft flaw on the argument or on its implementation
As was on the ontological St Anselm's argument… 

Or even in Logica more Geometrico Demonstrata do caro Baruch,
Fuckery always arrives, but until it does, it's your time. 
I mean falsifiability, by the old Wien School Paradigm...

So Tyler, great band, one day it's your day to give.
Your lovely daughter older than mine,
Carries the face of her father, just so crazy!
Mine, ontological surgery, with her father's uggly arms,
Could you not have given me your face or hair?
"Yesterday" was her first medical class…14 Easters,
How cannot I feel just another carcass, alive and ready to procreate? 

I hope your get the best out of it all the time.
Don't bow to writers and intellectuals because you are, Aerosmith lyrics,
Cindy Lauper, Nina Hagen, Dido,
MY identity is a Zombie, feel older as Mick Jagger
I have fallen for old idols, Halestorm, Placebo, Audioslave vocals…
Fuck you if you believe I'll try to make amends, Rexta, Eilish, Cardi B, the unpaired vocals of Taylor Momsen

Fuck you if believe I don't have to kill me to stop (?)
Cause the machine is still humming like a Crazy V6 bitch,
And yet my writings will subside....either way.

Nenny gave up slime for Gucci,
I gave up Vogue & D&G, Bulgari my favorite, Armani, Boss,don't mind
Houses, Women, Cars, drugs and Rock Fuckers
Fuckers
Fuckers, that's not that road, 

Because my prose is as powerful as my poetry,
Which doesn't even deserve the name,
Fuch Petrarch form and Villanelle
Fuch Camões que muito muito respeito
Fuck Dante 
Fuch Shakspeare and Marlowe
Lord Tennison, Woodsworth, Keats, Shelley, Blake's Burns, romanticism is a bitch!

I LIVE with you all!!
Except I also envy ,hate you,
BUT, I am afraid of witman's prolificacy,
Respectly ghosted by Henry Wadworth Longfellow,
Not the girls. 

Don't ask me fucking WHY
The venusian beings,
From Emily Dickinson's clarity, to M,.Angelou
Include list of my beloved, tired as Sexton
Sad temptation of the author of Lazarus,
Sold to reductionism, academic fuckury
O great exotic Sylvia Plath,
Who ultimately pretentiously behaved, as academy subtlety,
Last interviews have betrayed her, from the Bell Jar…how she changed… 
They made me sada but not hungry or disapointed...I am soft with her kind
Or I am their kind...who knows...

Pardon me, but T.S. Eliot never pretended not to be pretentious, from the Wasted Land till
The fabulous accent on the Four Quartets reading… 
Himselg or sir Alex Guiness,
Or Her praise has travested Yeats to a workers accent…
"A pattern on a napkin dipped in blood"...

Bukovsky was correct about that hate… that perfect hate.

Colours Of Kalo, arriba Rivera and his Murals
Arriba contra España, el Rey has come to save,
García Márquez after García Lorca trumped up by "la casada infiel"? 
La Casa de los espiritos, Allende, magnifica,
Wish I could write about my happy whores… 
Wish nothing not to split tragedi upon us....

That golden kingdom, Léon, Aragon, Castilla e Cataluña (Navarra, not forgotten) 
Never united.
Maybe the reason for their greatness.

In this shallow rabbit's hole,
Not the deepest I dig were no-one can get to me
I say to you it's not achievable to be whole

So you fragment
To diffuse the torment into memento
As it takes hold of you as a tragic Dorian Gray…
And so I lay, wherever I stay….

Brazil has given me so much...samba, bossa, chorinho Sertanejo, Nordedeste.
Jorge, Zelia, então Paulo, Clarisse, Veríssimo, Vinicius, Veredas...
E memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas..Machado de Assis...
A minha casa tomada, levada, oferecida,
Estava plena de Retirantes, presciência da seca que me assola, 
Suassuna, Ariano, velho, suas risadas ecoam... 

Portuguese with Camilo Castelo Branco , Eça de Queirós e geração de 70, Florbela Espanca, queridos Mário e Fernando, O'Neal, Agostinho da Silva, Mau tempo no Canal, Nemésio...
Infindável lista de ilustres à qual passo paralelo ou tangente,
Nada direi mais do universo Brasil, é my better half....
Raiva de não ter vivido, sem tempo de margarina nos dentes
Que ando pobre e relutante a vergar ao tem de ser…
Saudosos, a hora de vos honrar terá batido à porta, e à mente dói de tantos a considerar. 

As it began in Donne's language,
I hope the bells are tolling for thee
Cause Europe is bigger than you or us,
No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.

Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were:
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

Be sure of breaking BREXIT
Make sure you never forget the past
And the obligation of letting a place of peace
For those, whoever they are, that will follow us and be, behave as European people.

Silence over Italy, traison over Les Fleurs du Mal, Dr. Faustus, Schiller,
Weil Die Vögkein Sweigen im Walde, und wir, warte nur, balde...

Hail to all you, my dearest, for you I gave my flesh and blood, literally!
This dispersion is what I am, there is a letter with a project of sinthesis...
Pardon me cause at the moment...
Winds of precipitation are taming my sight into a blur of indiscernable object.

Não sei bem cero se a ilusão é intuiçãosei que os meus bagos estão mais leves,  O pau não levanta, emburrado e velho,  Sem bedelho que interesse meter,  E a piscina tá cheia de gente q foi lá ter  Devia ter errado e aceitado o povo fodidio Simpático e distraido, com a tristeza incluida E transar rolar rolé mais mais com mulher de tatuagem fudida na base da coluna, tesuda e banal…. Como umn xoxota todas iguais   É todas tão realmente diversas divergentes diferentes,   Como que diz fuck me from behind e não diz Plano desertado de vento enrolado de gente que se gosta mas não cuida,...   Quem cuida dessa sentimalidade, dessa sentimentalidade de calor disipado    É aqui o meu amor da minha vida invertida nesse amor roubado? A mim Ele não se achaca…

Tristes picadas, coisas pequenas, 
Almas de esquemas, entropia, sentada no fim do teu dia. 
E persistes, teimosia inconsequente, morte de repente 
E o que fica é uma picada de mosca, uma coisa tosca.

I hate your hate, it is neither fact nor fate.
By its your compassion that makes me sick,

False as true a black widow's bite
False as the frog's tongue deceiving its prey,
I hate you am I'm gonna splask you if I may
Make soup with your insides and after a sip

Offer it as a gift to the church's school meal. 

And see if your wickedness will grow, I'm them,
In spite of your theology and false gods or that stupid lonely transcend conbsubstatiating one
Yes oh y came christiam god, I write you with no capital
As you don't exist and I defy all your believers and the power they give you

Not afraid of Ratzinger that maybe a person superior as me. 
Fucking in your College of Cardinals bishops and minors
Because I could wear the sandals of Peter 
Or stand, object of the Hajj in Mecca,. 
Or be the reincarnation of Kali Ma
Yes, megalómanus is not an aspiration is a State of existing
I could be the tortoise that brings it on its back

But I prefer to ne Gaia, another myth 
Other glyph, a world of musical fucjery no responsability
Where’s f responbsability in our if we go along till death fucking penalty?
Jerking all that night]s thinking you could still fuck with th jailors, visitor, psicologists... 

Laughing, I am totaly against death penalty cause, primarly I am portuguese.
Have us portuguese been merciful or good?
Baby, we now how suffering by steps is so much worse than dying,
Descending the path till Spinx one by one.

We Portuguese are the worst you may encounter, simply prefer our profile low
As you full of sins think getting all out is awesome,
We always fuck you slowly, kept the last injustice as Empire from you begginners
And still treating you as people,
We really believed you were, heads to slaughter, pussies to humiliate, asses to fuck,
Do you have doubts?
Let me laugh, we fuck you with subtilty
Over all the Land races and continents, and you still call us small,

Better to consider Max Rose graphics and think a while!...
Haja quem, havendo a India descoberta, ficou sem trabalho...

Cognitive meningeal carcinomatosis.
Analogue, vague, revival of vinyl...meia hora.
Tarde para boa noite, cedo para boa semana. 
Incompetência.
Inapetência patológica pré-ordenada a que nível, a que plano...
Nem faço palavras cruzadas, as minhas letras presas naquele quadradinhos castradores e competitivos, 
Amigos do mérito, querido perdido no pretërito rito. Sem umlaut. 
Pretérito.
Que não move moinhos, quais, de vento, de correntes, de desalento, 
Moinhos deste momento onde o sentido é o ondular da miragem.

Je traversal le chemin vide de vie,
En écoutant les oiseaux qui chantait.
Dans mon coeur Il y avait de la musique,
Silencieuse, mon âme effacé et mystique,

Je n'écoute plus le bruit blanc du monde
Je ne sens pas les eaux de la rivière
Sensibilité réduite à sensation de misère
Le trou dans le chemin vide est profonde.

Et, malgré tout, le soleil, se permettait d'apparaitre dans le jour qui commençait.

Il n'y a pas, ni le jour, ni le soleil,
ni les mots vides, mais enchantés, 
échos du passé que mon âme vécu
Dans une langue perdu, que j'appris 
dans un jeu joué il y a étoiles passés, 
gaz concentré pour gérer êtres évolués.

Mon âme mystique a éons de longueur.

Tant fine en épaisseur comme les moeurs du temps

Cette persistance d'un comportement, aliéné,
Une volonté subtile que je ne sais expliquer.


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