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mercoledì 24 settembre 2008

cálice por acaso

o demônio nos detalhes
nas entrelinhas tinhosas
o escorregão, o timbre torto, o vão em vão
e as minúcias se escondem
o que era um projeto de vida
fica sendo no farol da barra
picuinha

domenica 21 settembre 2008

Birthday miscelanea

by Service, Bukowski

Let us have birthdays every day,
(I had the thought while I was shaving)
Because a birthday should be gay,
And full of grace and good behaving.
We can't have cakes and candles bright,
And presents are beyond our giving,
But let lt us cherish with delight
The birthday way of lovely living.

For I have passed three-score and ten
And I can count upon my fingers
The years I hope to bide with men,
(Though by God's grace one often lingers.)
So in the summers left to me,
Because I'm blest beyond my merit,
I hope with gratitude and glee
To sparkle with the birthday spirit.

Let me inform myself each day
Who's proudmost on the natal roster;
If Washington or Henry Clay,
Or Eugene Field or Stephen Foster.
oh lots of famous folks I'll find
Who more than measure to my rating,
And so thanksgivingly inclined
Their birthdays I'll be celebrating.

For Oh I know the cheery glow|
Of Anniversary rejoicing;
Let me reflect its radiance so
My daily gladness I'll be voicing.
And though I'm stooped and silver-haired,
Let me with laughter make the hearth gay,
So by the gods I may be spared
Each year to hear: "Pop, Happy Birthday."

To end up alone
in a tomb of a room
without cigarettes
or wine--
just a lightbulb
and a potbelly,
grayhaired,
and glad to have
the room.
...in the morning
they're out there
making money:
judges, carpenters,
plumbers, doctors,
newsboys, policemen,
barbers, carwashers,
dentists, florists,
waitresses, cooks,
cabdrivers...
and you turn over
to your left side
to get the sun
on your back
and out
of your eyes.

more songs of love and drugs

guess-translations from pepe sales by godariush

3.

if god didn't care


if god didn't care

why would he play these tricks on us


i know god loves me

that's why he played this trick on me


in the end we're all

slaves of sex




7.

sperm


talking about love well i don't know what to say

i'm all alone here hugging my pillow

the angel passed by last night

i lie here looking at the stains on the sheets




19.

our lord of the pharmacies


forgive me lord

i was feeling very alone

looking for consolation

just me, lord


and there i saw

there in the street

light of the neon cross

it was you, lord


forgive me lord

i'm in a lot of pain

and i'm afraid they're even going to deny

they ever saw you


our lord of the pharmacies

please tell the chemist

to give me the stuff

or at least

get that fucking cross down off the wall




49.

quando corpus morietur


5501 that was the room

where they admitted

cecilio and me

we were all very quiet we were all very scared

this time he looked very bad


and his mother she rocked him like a woman rocks a child

and his mother she rocked him like a woman rocks her child to sleep

and his mother she rocked him just like the mother of god

and his mother she rocked him like the madonna by the cross


the doctor said cecilio was dead

but his face was smiling still

the doctor said he'd been dead for a while

but his mother said

i gave birth to him

and he died in my arms

like the madonna by the cross


and his mother she rocked him like a woman rocks a child

and his mother she rocked him like a woman rocks her child to sleep

and his mother she rocked him just like the mother of god

and his mother she rocked him like the madonna by the cross


that might seem old-fashioned or sentimental

like a worn out tattoo that says mum

but all that was needed just then

was consolation


and his mother she rocked him like a woman rocks a child

and his mother she rocked him like a woman rocks her child to sleep

and his mother she rocked him just like the mother of god

and his mother she rocked him like the madonna by the cross




martedì 16 settembre 2008

existir é diferir (com nota de rodapé exploratória)

mesmo assim constituído[1]

meu corpo degrada o poder

meu corpo desagrada o poder

meu corpo desgruda do poder

meu corpo desgraça o poder

meu corpo desgrenha o poder

meu corpo deglute o poder

eu continuo comendo meus tomates com azeite



[1] constrituído, constitruído, constatuído, constimoído, crostituído, cuspituído, constiroído, constitutrido.

domenica 14 settembre 2008

Para Excessos e Exceções (que sai em Canela, 6 de outubro)

“But I’m not.” “What?” “A tin-opener.” “I am delighted to hear it but tell me, have people in the past attempted to open things with you?” “Why would they when I’m not a tin-opener?” […] Then she picked him up and lit her cigarette with him.

Pat Ingoldsby

ode aos crus

rasgo repolho com as mandíbulas
escrevo repetidamente sobre os nabos
que mordia quando estava longe
meus desejos em revoada de pombos grátis
meus desejos arrebitam
eu falo que se ela demora arrepio
eu ando pela casa de um orixá fugido de santeria
eu falo
o gosto das superfícies cruas virgens
eu arranho os lados do meu pescoço regrado
o mesmo pescoço que eu gostava de lavar
agora está sujo

Tarde no Caribe (há anos em Choroní)

Areia do mar na beirada do rio
Folhas verdes voam para dentro dos olhos
Minha sombra me espera na estrada

fragmento 17 do ohana

ah, não...
não vou abrir mão de devorar o mundo
- antes que ele me devore -

mercoledì 10 settembre 2008

Acordando longe de Cessy, de Osogbo

Susanne Wenger com um olho que vê tem seus hadrons
ou nem tem porque tudo escapa quando não é vigiado
começa o teu dia, Winnie - também a mim criou o eterno dromedário
esticado pelas vértebras das horas, um ermitão encontra uma gia
adiciono velocidade, Cessy, Osogbo, minhas pernas parecem vidro
pelas remelas umas potências secas produzidas só pela má higiene

ardo