Princípio da sabedoria

Considerar a nossa maior angústia como um incidente sem importância, não só na vida do universo, mas da nossa mesma alma, é o princípio da sabedoria.Considerar isto em pleno meio dessa angústia é a sabedoria inteira. No momento em que sofremos, parece que a dor humana é infinita. Mas nem a dor humana é infinita, pois nada há humano de infinito, nem a nossa dor vale mais que ser uma dor que nós temos.

Quantas vezes, sob o peso de um tédio que parece ser loucura, ou de uma angústia que parece passar além dela, paro, hesitante, antes que me revolte, hesito, parando, antes que me divinize. Dor de não saber o que é o mistério do mundo, dor de nos não amarem, dor de serem injustos connosco, dor de pesar a vida sobre nós sufocando e prendendo, dor de dentes, dor de sapatos apertados - quem pode dizer qual é a maior em si mesmo, quanto mais nos outros, ou na generalidade dos que existem?

Para alguns que me falam e me ouvem, sou um insensível. Sou, porém, mais sensível - creio- que a vasta maioria dos homens. O que sou contudo, é um sensível que se conhece, e que, portanto, conhece a sensibilidade.

Ah, não é verdade que a vida seja dolorosa, ou que seja doloroso pensar na vida. O que é verdade é que a nossa dor só é séria e grave quando a fingimos tal. Se formos naturais, ela passará assim como veio, esbater-se-á assim como cresceu.tudo é nada, e a nossa dor nele.

Escrevo isto sob a opressão de um tédio que parece não caber em mim, ou precisar de mais que da minha alma para ter onde estar; de uma opressão de todos e de tudo que me estrangula e desvaira; de um sentimento físico de incompreensão alheia que me perturba e esmaga. Mas ergo a cabeça para o céu azul alheio, exponho a face ao vento inconscientemente fresco,baixo as pálpebras depois de ter visto, esqueço a face depois de ter sentido. Não fico melhor, mas fico diferente.Ver-me liberta-me de mim. Quase sorrio, não porque me compreenda, mas porque, tendo-me tornado outro, me deixei de poder compreender. No alto do céu, como um nada visível, uma nuvem pequeníssima é um esquecimento branco de um universo inteiro.

Fernando Pessoa, 5-4-1933

Pleasure V's Reason

Eugéne Jansson, Flottans badhus, (The Naval Bath House) 1907

"Poor is the man who's pleasure depend on the permission of another man..."

Morrissey - Angel, angel, down we go together

Angel, Angel

Don't take your life tonight

I know they take

And that they take in turn

And they give you nothing real

For yourself in return

But when they've used you

And they've broken you

And wasted all your money

And cast your shell aside

And when they've bought you

And they've sold you

And they've billed you for the pleasure

And they've made your parents cry

I will be here

BELIEVE ME

I will be here

Believe me

Angel, Angel

Don't take your life

Some people have got no pride

They do not understand

The Urgency of life

But I love you more than life

I love you more than life

I love you more than life

I love you more than life

A dor

A dor de não conseguir amar....a dor de amar sempre a pessoa errada....a dor de não sentir dor....a dor de dar sempre....a dor de existir...a dor de não existir.....a dor ....a dor....a dor...a constante presença da dor....tudo o que sinto e senti são meras pausas na dor....dói-me a impossibilidade dessa grande possibilidade a que chamam felicidade....dói-me a presença...dói-me o afastamento....dói-me saber que não vou saber encontrar nunca a sabedoria de existir calmamente....apenas me deixo enganar por momentos...ainda que consciente desse mesmo engano...a dor fortalece dizem-me...pois eu sinto-me um caco....mas e amanhã?....amanhã levanto-me e sorrio como todos os dias.... sabendo que ela está lá e sempre estará....não acredito em destinos nem fados...mas nunca consigo fugir ao meu....a dor

Thieves like us - Your heart feels

see you in the club
see you in the crowd
see you in the west
and see you on east side

doubt is in your heart
shattering your mind
making you feel low
it gives you a hard time

see me under dark
show me all your scars
show me all your thoughts
i'll show you a good time

see you in the club
see you in the crowd
i pass you by
and i call your name

your heart feels over and over

see you in the club
see you in the crowd
see you going out
and see you on the south side

doubt is in your heart
shattering your mind
making you feel bad
it gives you a hard time

see me after dark
reveal all your scars
revel in your thoughts
i'll show you a good time

see you in the club
see you in the crowd
i pass you by
and i call your name

your heart feels over and over
feels so low

Bocage

[SONETO DO ADEUS ÀS PUTAS]

Que eu não possa ajunctar como o Quintella
É coisa que me afflige o pensamento;
Desinquieta a porra quer sustento,
E a pivia tracta ja de bagatella.

Si n'outro tempo houve alguma bella
Que o amor só desse o conno pennugento,
Isso foi, ja não é; que o mais sebento
Cagaçal quer durazia caravella.

Perdem saude, bolsa, e economia;
Nunca mais me verão meu membro ropto;
Está ahi mi'a porral philosophia.

Putas, adeus! Não sou vosso devoto;
Co'um sesso engannarei a phantasia,
Numa escada enrabando um bom garoto

The Kills - The Future starts slow

No longing for the moonlight  

No longing for the sun
No longer will I curse the bad I've done
If there's a time when your feelings gone, I wanna feel it

You can holler, you can wail
You can blow what's left of my right mind
You can swing, you can flail
You can blow what's left of my right mind
(I don't mind)

BOCAGE

 [SONETO DO EPITAPHIO]

La quando em mim perder a humanidade
Mais um daquelles, que não fazem falta,
Verbi-gratia — o theologo, o peralta,
Algum duque, ou marquez, ou conde, ou frade:

Não quero funeral communidade,
Que engrole "sub-venites" em voz alta;
Pingados gattarrões, gente de malta,
Eu tambem vos dispenso a caridade:

Mas quando ferrugenta enxada edosa
Sepulchro me cavar em ermo outeiro,
Lavre-me este epitaphio mão piedosa:

"Aqui dorme Bocage, o putanheiro;
Passou vida folgada, e milagrosa;
Comeu, bebeu, fodeu sem ter dinheiro".

The Allstar Project - Alignment

Lord Byron

                           Darkness

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went -and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light;
And they did live by watchfires -and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings -the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those which dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch;
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire -but hour by hour
They fell and faded -and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash -and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them: some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless -they were slain for food;
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; -a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought -and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails -men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famished men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress -he died.
The crowd was famished by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heaped a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage: they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects -saw, and shrieked, and died -
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless -
A lump of death -a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped
They slept on the abyss without a surge -
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perished! Darkness had no need
Of aid from them -She was the Universe!