acrílico s/ tela
25x20 cm
Raquel Ançã
Maio 2008
25x20 cm
Raquel Ançã
Maio 2008
sábado, 24 de maio de 2008
Dúvidas
Fotografia: Diana Estevens
Choro, rio. Apática.
Farta de falsas simpatias.
De viver todos os dias
Da apatia mais simpática.
Esta vida enfadonha
Entre paredes amarelas,
Pessoas que só fazem por elas
E desprezam quem sonha.
Da curiosidade falsa
Da falsidade curiosa.
Gente pecaminosa
Cujo objectivo não ultrapassa.
Não vivo para além do esperado,
Tentando conciliar
A loucura e o mais vago
Pensamento alienado
Chego-me a ti. Sussurro:
“Adeus. Vou para o outro lado…”
Novembro 2007
Pecado!
Fotografia: Miana Ançã
Descendo as escadas a pares.
Corro.
Fujo para onde a cabeça me levar.
Sem rumo. Apenas sentir.
O vento espalha-se
Enregela o interior do corpo.
Não paro. A ansiedade está por dentro,
Invade-me com o sentimento
De culpa. Depois da noite bem passada,
A teu lado. Repressão.
Enfrentar a humanidade julgadora.
O povo. A população.
Está a chegar a hora
De tudo terminar.
Os raios de sol apagam
O peso da consciência.
O dia passa entre os dedos;
Olhando para o chão,
Onde o sentido, a depressão.
Se esvai com a lua.
Não há muito mais a dizer.
Tu és minha. Eu sou tua.
12.12.2007
Sociavelmente Detestável
Depois da noite agitada
O descambar da madrugada
O amanhecer em cama incerta
E a manhã procurando a porta aberta,
Ao encontro da razão
Que possa ter escapado em vão
Com o pó, alcoól e comprimido
Enquanto está tudo iludido
Que existe um mundo perfeito
E, contudo, acaba…
Continua semelhante,
Ao que era, inconstante.
As rotinas sem nexo
Num dia a dia complexo.
Para saborear de manhã
O café na esplanada,
De onde o bónus vem na chávena
A vida dos outros detalhada.
Não existe pudor,
Humildade, calor.
Posto em cima da mesa
O bolo e a certeza
De quem foi puta ou santa.
Uma trinca, um olhar espanta;
Um trago, um sussurro,
Sobre o infeliz da aliança
De quem não tem confiança
Para falar, confessar,
O que na alma se possa passar.
No açúcar, a melancolia,
No papel, a nostalgia
De quem não sabe o que escrever
Mas, para além disso, dizer
Que a sociedade, além de perdida,
Foi, é e será o fingir da vida.
Depois do orgasmo matinal,
A vida habitual.
Do esforço irónico, passivo e atroz.
De onde a voz
Ecoa sem som
E continua sem sentido
Deturpada,
A enfrentar o mundo perdido.
Novembro 2007
Sometimes life jokes at us...
Sometimes life jokes at us. Play with our feelings, our senses, our imagination. Each one of us has a little world. We live in a world full of small worlds, like a puzzle. Some people let the door open, some people close it and others just peek on the locker to choose who they let to come in. I think that the main problem in the real world is that most people close or just choose who to relate to. That’s why we can’t move forward, that’s why we (and when I say we is the human race!) don’t accept the difference. Each one of us just think that is superior than the other one. And I’m not an exception. My world has always the door open. But the way to get there is very hard. Sometimes I keep thinking about that way and about people who crossed it. They had to climb big mountains full of snow, rocks and wild animals. They had to scream so loud for me to listen and run to get them. Some people stayed in half of the way. We can talk in the top of the mountain and then I go back to my world and they return to their. You, Rob, you flew. You didn’t cross the hard way, you didn’t pass the snow, the rocks or the wild animals. You didn’t eat the clouds, just flew above them; didn’t grab the stars, just looked at them and realized that they are perfect exactly where they are; you didn’t scream, because I was already waiting for you. Why? Why didn’t you have that difficulty that everyone has? Maybe your world is simmilar to mine and you knew all the steps to get there. I don’t know the answer, but in fact I wanted to say that you entered in my world that is kept in my heart. Sometimes life jokes at us.
In the real world people think that I’m crazy. Doing what I want, that I really want! Even if it’s absurd. If I want to scream, I’ll scream. If I want to talk, I’ll just talk. If I want to listen, I’ll listen. If I want to be a ghost for one day, I’m a ghost. That’s simple, that’s freedom. Being free is the most important thing. Just don’t care about what people think or do. Just be.
The most funniest thing is that I have my beautiful daughter that thinks in the same way. I didn’t teach her to be like that. She choosed me has her mother. She was already like that and she’s my best friend. We live together in the same world, we share the same world. And nobody gets in without mine or her permission
The Universe gave us a gift. A real one. The one that you wait your all life to get it. And that gift was you, Robinson. Meeting a person like you make us want to live intensily life. Make us want to give everything away, to give up of everything that surround us to pay attention to your person. To your smile. I’m really grateful to the energies that brought you to our life. I never was so understood by a person. I think that I was never so happy with a person by my side. Relaxes me to see your beautiful eyes and your beautiful soul. Your kisses, hugs and love. But Universe can make things hard. Sometimes life jokes at us. What she brings, she takes away. And in this moment I have an ocean separating me from you. But I’m going to fight, first for your friendship and than for your love. I cry tears of missing. Is that unfair? Is that being sellfish? Maybe. But I can tell you some true words. Thinking of you makes me feel the heart exploding, butterflies in my stomach and a shiver going up my body. If that is being in love, it means that I never were, because I never felt like this. Thank you! Because of that I will laugh about the jokes that life does to me...
May 2008
Subscrever:
Mensagens (Atom)
