Here, Jaz THE Óscar Of A People
You that pass, and you step my ground!
Here, men were born whose memory got lost in vain;
they grew and my siblings lived
That you/they never invited - me á monotony of the life!
There,
Jaz my enemy's body… hung
In the bow of the dawn,
Here, he/she survives the thought of a people that
He/she knew how to wait, under the sun, and among the sieves, in the marches
Postponed of men that were never citizens
Here jaz the shadow of a people distributed by the reflex of the
Tradition! That you/they put of part god's essence, and on the
Cavities of the glance of the influence, transformed the societies
In film films
In these roads,
The footprints are marked canceled by the destiny
In these walls; the testimony of the ignorance!!!
In the grave, singing dry of his/her honor and of his/her generation!
Here jaz the word of a glorious one (!)
The Defendant AND THE Hammer
Today I am defendant between the verb and the sword
Of the stain of the atrophic hearts, I became torn
Of this left and of the powder of the Utopian imagination
Of this ceremony,
I didn't hurt anybody to be propalado,
Nor I stole to be sung and sought,
I lose common sense like this in doubting of a defect that the
Hammers made to believe me…
They presume in this summary, lives somewhere lost!
They are in charge of in the emptiness of this abyss
Behind the sleepy speeches and to the eyes of who
It will go wait the difference between the hand and the sky (…)
In this indefinite condition, advocated by polygamists
And a mercenary to the service of the Utopia,
I exalt myself without fear of the nail… and of the ingrate hammer in the
Incoherence of this audience…
They presume in this summary, lives somewhere lost!
My truth will be the force of your satisfaction
My roots will be… the reason of your inhumation!
Today I am defendant,
In the inside cover of this jungle!!!
Speeches on (In the) Stone
I left of mouths and no longer speeches to the poor,
Looking with the arms lassos that never
They gave me to chew,
I don't know the notes, I never had voice nor vitality for
tussir… with my feet lacerated in the tracks…
I never saw so far where it could go! Nor in the transverse ones
Of this stolen illusion,
I am among the wreckage of this age,
To travel crumbs only to reach the happiness
That I lost, and the ignorance that took care of mine to travel
Already, I don't encourage the eyes of the left… it wastes her, I am
The expectation deprived in the decomposition of that anxiety
The implacable atracção in each note,
Don't count on me, I am in a hurry of dying, no longer
I want to feed the hope of believing in the existence
Of those that saddened me; seating in my effort
Smiling my anger
Don't count on me
I know that you are in the sleep and you don't understand this atracção,
The inflection of his/her reality with the Utopia of that song (…)
Your only desire is in the dawn of your dreams,
In falling of his/her precocious old age, and in the irrational imediatismos of this
Rocha,
Without you notice what moves you and the
Who drives you;
The Grave Of the Conscience
The past and the present crossed, and I admit of
Empty mouth that I am not friend of those carnivorous ones,
I am… a statement thereabout spoiled among the processes
More strangers of the cave;
I suffer of barleys and diabolismo for having
Smoked the children of the it recounts, that you/they sickened mine
Sensitive routine, without difference with the grave…
Some speak others criticize,
those don't say nor they buzz!
I scream, tearing the silence more cold of this cerimónia!!!
Like this, I cannot hate myself, nor to hang the road;
The rock is ambiguous and he/she brings the judgement in the curves of the boredom!
It is… the end of the eyes in the vague nights, when the bed
It seduces the trunk and it invites the unexpected
For a trip to the subconscious!
Same Passos in the geometry of the I silence
The same glances and to judge in the evolutionary theory of the chair,
With the same of the defeat that barked the out of tune hymn
In the compass of each dark glance,
The same letters of the world
The setback of the memory, the farce of the black pieces
The same plans in the geometry of the slavishness that
He/she examines my siblings' thought!!!
I got tired of rating the teeth to the shoulders
I tired of the imposed hypocrisy, and of this yellowish light
I tired of the steps that don't speed up me to look
Ace series cómicas of filthy actrizes, and stories
Of the ember, colored synopses of the renouncement!
Red languages and comments that it falls asleep
The rotation of the deck of cards
Oh… steps gangrene, whitened by the holes
of the irreversibilidade,
It is shredded by the public that you/they sing blind it operates her
In the guard-fact of the late verse!
The same glances and to judge
in the evolutionary theory of the masses
(II) I Walk Of A Lost City
The road trodden by some, it is
Replete of dirt, they impeded to undress
Of Dionísio in the libertinism of my intolerance…
The iniquitous ones are entrust, and the slaves crawl her in the
Submission of the sermon, other in the perverted ideas
Of a condemned city!!!
When above all.
In the heart of each one
He/she crawls blindly doubts her if they go or they are in this scenery,
They spell her/it the pain inherited of a diary
The course is long, where he/she murmurs the destiny
The impulsive game of each road,
Where many will stay as spectators!
Hearing voices of the they haul…
Where the paint and the paper will be chewed of hunger…
And the own replete hunger of indifferent dreams…
Voices Of one Era
(1989 China)
I am the well-being and the interrogation in the
Beards of the intelligence, I Come from the distant lands the
He/she seeks of the bale, water for the skin and sense
for the masks, in the arena of the programmed epidemics;
It is enough… to touch the square conscience of one era,
Raped, to understand the hasty rhythm for the
He/she envies of an audience anónima
I was born in this concept, sowing the hope
in the baseboards of each text that gave me
to eat;
It wastes her/it unnoticed step and lament the zungueira
thrown by the force of the canine teeth to the jaws of the rage (…)
Here my voice is fónica in the metric obtuse,
Messing up the beards of mistaken memoirs!!!
Of the divulged concepts, my glance is rebellious,
Where I am seating, reflectindo the past of a future
in the absence of the signs of the life of each one (…)
Among the universe fónico, I am the subject in the headers
Of the grammar anónima (!!!)
The zebra forgotten in the composition of the colors;
To This Of the Hands Of this Universe
(1970 Polónia)
I heard screams of the razão…na language of warriors
Children and starving and pale breasts lost, old
of fever, some died other trafficked and used in the
inhospitable lashes, on the discursive cavities of these and
of those inhuman ones!
Like this, I spoke about the world in the sheets of the pardon,
Of that suburb… in the third step of the capitalism,
The noxious and immoral rehearsal of the ideas pandemónikas, of the
systems selváticos and of the misfortunes you inform,
Africa in the geometry of the slavishness, where nobody
he/she sees the diplomacy of the conformism and the submission of the
my siblings
Continuing to hammer her/it those minds…
That you/they rehearse the only form of exalting the greatness!
Destroying the sense in the universe, and the universe in a sense
They bend you on the silence of a revolt; the reasons of the
human depreciation, reflectindo the road of the skin
in the triangle
It won't be with these hands and minds that it will be believed
In the capital, that he/she handles and it excites the fingers in this hemisphere
Egocentric, and the spirituality to east of this
Universe?...
The Lance Of the Grave In the Epic
(1073 Vietname)
You were found decreased in the tracks of one
desert 100 earth, where false feelings crawled,
when the men that presumed arrived
to poison his/her fetus of cereals, behind
Of the epic.
Of the pursuits that you didn't provoke and you laugh yourself
in the promised breasts of a Childhood lacónica;
On this side,
The mystic has this note, without pause nor you/he/she causes
seeking in the track the mask that is not of house
or else of vagabonds, prostitutes and
Infertile pictures!
On the other side,
The need in surviving of this parallel hunchback
Where many don't find the natural tracção of the
Things,
Like this, they won't sing nor they will dance!
Living pendants of the soul and of the noxious spirit of the
Meat,
I don't want that renasças to die (…)
Of knowing that tomorrow will become sad (…)
And I won't have colors in the lips to do to resuscitate you;
2 seconds Before the Dawn
(1979 Afghanistan)
I
My sudden steps
My soul epítóme in the privilege of the tears,
I am the voice áfona in the crowd of the skin, the
Possessed heart in the obsession of the arrogance…
Two seconds before the dawn,
Hairy thoughts in the file of that
To get late, childhood lacónica of a
Film In the anguish of filing the
Shadow of this dream
II
They were plane you get up early descending of the hole
Without antecedents on this abrupt dawn,
I sing in this melody in notes that nobody
He/she knows the central harmony, breaking the rectângulo
In the insolence of this obstinacy nocturna;
The steps flew moaned in the agglutination of the farce
Denied, rejected and politicized by worms of the chair
That you/they postponed the despair of a sudden dream;
III
Dreams of the voices that nailed the farce in wood,
The voices that assemblies hibernate and they atrophy the abuses,
I saw them protagonists of the city,
Actores of the polluted streets and people of the reasonable powder!
Here, My Lágrimas Anoitecem
(1980 Egipto)
No longer they import the fires of the freedom
As well as no longer I am in a hurry of being wrong
And to live, because, all applauses in the nectar
Of the emotion they have strange senses,
Is there still cloudy water in these hangers?
The charlatães are washed, in this game, been hit and
Chained seating;
I already went white in the debates and, in the applauses of the audience,
Zungaram poisons to dry my lips
They silenced the nakedness in the rocks! Where the steps
They announced the eras, of the foolishness of my generation!
Care with what does me!!!
The steps marked in the ground don't retreat in vain,
There is still a to sing in the glance of this to spell;
They get lost in the time and they scorch sayings
They stand back of me and they renounce my true ones
Pictures, "here my tears anoitecem"
(…) Who will describe my sense itinerary
To this present, behind the credits that don't arrive?
Of this inebriant mourning of promises to divided steps?...
Who?
In the Twilight, Of the Dreams
(1984 Sudan)
The perplexed and rigid feet were retaken, when
They threw the burned hands in the prayer…
The shadow of the lives fled, the bodies of the souls fled,
Degenerate properties in the coordinates
Of this twilight…
He/she began like this, the hymn in a glance maze,
The naked clarity of the clouds, under the harmony us
Cathetus of that immobility, now in the handcuffed palms;
(…) Conscientiously they joined the hands in fever,
Everything because there was not space to see the dreams (…)
The choir is the same, and…
It was left like this... in the dependence of the innocent ones and
Independent of the pursued shadow,
I take oath to the that see and they heard in the twilight of the dreams!
Invitation the Grave (I) (1968 France)
Unfortunate seating in these stones
With the feet in auction, jump as
1 thumb-tack screaming as the cicada,
and I already died vary Times (…)
I am with the watery skeleton
Borrowed, to support
The methods of a consumerism
Flotation that it is wasted
As the alienated waves of the
Film of this empire,
I don't need edges nor of fairs
I stay of the coats of mine
Emanation, in the Utopian formation of this weakness
I am not and I was never the result
Of the experiences Erróneas, profited from him/it
done in punishment
No longer I predict your calendar
I am distant of the earth and closer
Of the stars
In the profundity of the empty darkness
In the profundity of the coldest sands
Observation of the meat, I have if bomb
my heart
It is not clock, I didn't go arquitectado
To be painted,
No longer I need sermons to be
Photographed,
I am, the request in person,
Like this, exclude me of this map
Volatile
The filed epistle!
(1955 Bandung)
Oh!
People pravo… these bodies are the theories of the
Certainty of your probatory laboratory in plaintive,
I will speak to the serpent;
In nights of embittered plenilúnio…
(…) Although the scaffolds drink of this rehearsal
My existence in this grace will be the will of spitting
The points and the commas of the epistle;
The morning even I will leave and I don't know where go,
Out of this parallel one,
They will comment on the hard chests that you/they don't dance, the weak ones
Disturbed, alienated; it is just a part on the sides
In the saying of the mug, that the pen is going to the lips!
Of red eyes sat down here will continue,
The madam's wait polished by the escribas,
In front I don't go! Behind never I will return,
Here scribble collecting the past of disgusting rags
I raise the picture faithful of my monstrous scream
The hunger in his/her military state, writing as
He/she could not shout (…) In the intuition of that controversy
Asking for a candy to chew,
For the serpent today is everything,
Nothing else except the result of the dispute that you/they don't crawl
To my favor, the secret of the rope nocturna to the smiles of the
His/her favor, this way padecerei…assim will be!
The Poison Of the Generations (1942 Washington)
They call me drink
I intoxicate chairs and I depreciate ladies,
I am competed when I command my followers,
Some they know me, others ignore me for never
Having kissed;
I atrophy hearts and damage the premature homes
I shine in each corner, where I make couple with the
Will of the meat!
I am the mask of the tribunals, mourning against the
The men's honesty to god!
I show the continuation of the true world
Activando the for the that prohibited in the garden
I obscure the personality of anybody,
I irritate his/her throat, when I slip as
Tar in their lungs, I reduce his/her vision,
The capacity to think and I give you the tuberculosis
Before the mass!!!
I am fabled!
Cosmopolitan, for that the titles are going of marijuana
Crack á cocaine; my register is original for
Each people!
I am the happiness of the demonstrators, the strikers' face
I am in the celebrities' curriculum,
I am the tetanus of the suburb, the despair of a nation.
I am where there are women and devil (…)
Nobody Clamor the Door
(1945 April)
In the shadow of this station
He/she finishes the ambiguous session, to the voice of the crowd
Handcuffed in the rhythm of the tragedy!!!
The sentence of the martyrs falls, it is read the paragraph 75 in the faith of the
To can, of a reality ingénua,
Therefore, they open up the fires!!!
The word arrived in the earth…
The honey of many scapegosts, the sweet interlaced fright
The this terror square, inhuman, immediate and shameful;
In this sway where few they are sought in the pain of these fires
Ó incandescent shadow, frees me of this pestilence
Free the devils of my libertinism, and it burns the illusion
of the chair,
Of the strange thoughts to the smiles of each protocol
I also know that it is the bridge of my emptiness
I hope not to be the end of this drama, I want to continue as
Actor in this persecution… where nobody is condemned the
To leave
Close the door (…) please
The Inversion Of the Rope
(August 6)
The pregoada was that recalcitrant voice
In the dispute for the difference, on a side the listeners,
doutro the dictators of hoods, With the iniquitous ones
ordinances, shameless flattering fanatic
He/she doesn't have science to fall asleep in this race,
cómicas and you nourish them poor story writer's faces!
Mother, we are going to the kimbo where the dispute is the cacimbo
There there are no taxes! The channels make the hoe
They irrigate the stomach and they give breath to that state!
The conscience for new recounts!!!
Let us abandon this complicity soon…
Of wanting to save in newspapers and other processes,
(…) They already abandon this diabolical paradise the
Film cómica of the crucifix…
Our reason is not the market economy, it is
The profit of the force in loving the earth and, to be recognized by the
Nature the harmony of a great share,
That origins are these disorders, I disenchant him/it in the glance
Of each generation; that you/they grew of the search, and they live
without knowing the road for the search…
The rehearsal of my stupidity!
(1931 S. Dalí)
They still hide the glance to the barefoot feet
Wounded and exhausted, that you/they only walk
That to walk in the uncertainty of the conquest and of the abandonment
Cleópatra of this swampland, virus that shakes the malaria memory (…)
Sanctity peta proceridade!
The glance separates me sore spots
Because they repress my preamble? Or else do you know me?
Of the women played to the street; of the children thrown to the strange,
They call me and they serve me the remains of the amateurism,
Collapse me and they embarrass me in pictures (…)
Be rested, no longer I will inconvenience you (…)
They detect in my sanguine composition
The tracks of a late past and badly arquitectado!
That in the daytime and night filled out the reason of the emptiness,
In the sleepiness of well to chatter and encornar the ceremonies!
I give up rehearsing my stupidity for the gods…
I think I am not rights of hearing the heroes,
I am the objecto of my delivery, the rehearsal of mine
Stupidity! I am the bottom of this present, the sign without angle,
I am the word where doesn't have book
The book where doesn't have people, the desert of salt water (…)
Comments
(1929)
Because of wanting to break the word
I lost kicking about me in the legends patience
Of old Europe, to say that I was not born in Belém
There are no magnifying glasses as well as hammer to judge
That presumption, there are no men nor you encourage for
To testify that preaching;
There are no turtles in this machine, no there is
Serpent as in the epistle,
There is yes anxious hypocritical pântanos…e in to cough and to spit
At the same time (…) they begin where they finish and not
They say anything!!!
Of the poles to the flying escribas;
those are not carnivorous
Where one find chew the beards and they salivate the asphalt (…)
I was not born in Belém
So-little in this report,
They call me palanca (…)
In a beggar's voice!
(2600 B.C.)
I don't choose nor I hide the bursts of a
Old lever that falls in the diaphragms of the
Idolatry, and it resounds disparate voices worshipping the beggars
That to chatter humble in the obliteration of the masses,
He/she fills out the emptiness of an asleep rage,
When they wake up, they die how they write and
As if it was not enough don't do how they owe!
They bark out the nights and they torment us to the turn of the banks
I am tamed politically,
You are colonized economically;
He is enslaved culturally!
Us…
They are socially late!!!
Who? - The sentries of the shame!
Let us have hopes siblings in believing
In the certainty that the legends are part of the life,
That the právidos, are also part of the diaphragms
Of the harmony (…)
Miracles That Torment the
He/she gives hope (February 2009)
If it was the hope of such expected wine!
He/she remained silent the voice disturbs of the lucidity and,
He/she became empty the picture of a soap opera;
The friendship that pulled miracles and that it enlarged the
Passos of the revenge!
As well as it was in the beginning the fight
Between the devil and the angels they announce the pain!!!
The shoulders without mark;
They choose hunters for the sea and fishermen for
The schools… all poisoned by the bad luck of the nations,
They wither in the heuristics spitting poisonous goods
For the vulnerable ones
As well as it was in the past the peace
Between Blind men and mute persons it continues!!!
They looked at her/it with the belly… it was bought the míseros
Flying of Gomorra… lethargic of the new it was
They aim at to the stars… they buzz the nights
Tolerant emotional… that die in the stories of the
Occident (...)
If it was the hope of such expected wine!
He/she remained silent the voice disturbs of the lucidity,
The ignored moments and so suspicious
That you/they hugged the blindness of your deceased future
He/she left the acropolis (…)
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