Lisboa é o berço da minha consciência universal.

Progressively lighten.
Stars walking on her side and she smiles.
There's a hole in the past and the present yells inconceivable truths,
quiet and almost steady truths.
There's a brave new world coming and only the fearless will embrace it. 
There's a new air, a new light, brighten by the falling paranoid system.
Babies cry out, dogs smile, birds sing and the horse whips his tail to ward flies.
Simple, it's simple and intelligent the new world that Nature is forcing us to feel and see.
Crumbling in our hearts and minds 
clouds of the past forgotten lives.
Get naked by doing and moving has you feel. 
Streets with people on cell phones, smart cell phones with dumber people. 
For it is too much to see Only with your eyes and mind.
It is too much to feel Only with your heart. 
Internet is our world don't you know?
It is good it is bad, I don't know nor do I have to know.
I know though that there is another, not man made, internet.
A natural one. 
It will bring you closer to you and others but uncloser to the system.
But since everything is the same and life grows beneath your rational thought,
times pass and you're On. 

"O fardo da felicidade só pode ser aliviado pelo bálsamo do sofrimento."

Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts

Getting sound there.
Feeling it.
Reaching for faces unknown and caressing their thoughts as mine.

On the grand mountain lives the spirit of the eagle.
This spirit sees everything,
being weakness the most precious of all feelings.

Eyes on eyes fill up tears by smiles.


(And I'm the lonely one.
And I'm the one who must die.)


Forget living the past or some strange
and impossible dream you might had have.
Loose it and fall on the precipice of All Life.
The present it's a present of god for you,
don't let it get past you.
Times pass and future is not.
For walking on your feet is magical as the medieval age.
Part me, part you, sun stretching into the city like a missile of believing.

No, for not as I but as what I want to die for.

Places of truth, beings of light darken
by unprecedented beyond life of the singular individual.

I touch and you feel.
I look and you smile.
Take it for granted that the world will always be and you,
being yourself - as you cannot be anyone else -
will live it as you can and must.

For dying is the body's weight.
Cure it by walking with your feet,
by seeing with your eyes,
by feeling with your hearth.

It's your own singularity that brings you towards life.

You can fall, but don't feel that you fall on the ground.
Instead feel that you fall inside your self and that way
the vital flow of life will put you again on your feet.

Life is just tragic for those who
are not willing to look and see beyond themselves.

Though the world is cursed we all still believe in something.
For as little as it might be it's already a seed.
   

O Teu medo é a bússula do Teu destino.

I have to pay for my existence by creating.

I'm an art breaker.
Being life itself my ultimate goal.

Silence is talking with the hearth.
Maybe as the stars fall I'll rise to day
but until that day I'll keep looking up at quiet stars.
For finding life is a tricky business and letting go a must.
One day, night comes and it's another.
To want to feel free for too much slavery in my head.
Arms of another around and my feet not on the ground.
Too used to feel grounded and too much of a fun to loose,
loose it all.
But there's no good in it, is it?
Lonely path because I want to know and feel what I alone can manage to fulfill.
But alone I already am, for the stone in my heart tells me so.
Have to learn how to live again.
But no more of a failure or incoherent gesture.
My soul has a plan and my mind found space to understand.
That plan is precious for it is who I am.
Though life is more important than me...
Is it?  

Sprinkling shadows camouflaging dreams of future.
Silent night recalls falls of another.
The wind doesn't breath and the stone of him passes.
The world fading and people getting mad.
Born for this and knowing it so deeply.
As the storm comes to an end people begin to understand.
All news report endings and all I see is grand new beginnings.
Just yesterday he went to the camp side close to his bedroom
and caressed some horses; one young male and a beautiful old female.
They seemed fine, eating grass like all their dead yesterdays.
Animals have the solidarity of evidencing Nature's voice to the human eye and heart.
Chaos is on our head with our pretensions existence,
"survival" like the native american indian sad...
Power is now just on believing.
End the war on greed to succeed.
You are and you have dreams.
To be who you are at where you are succeeding on little steps reaching life.
Let life find some dreams for you that you didn't even knew you had.
If you are humble and alert you'll see the signs.
The world might die for it needs his rest also
but the one who finds himself lives beyond this world.
If you close your eyes you'll know what I mean...
Feel.

I don't believe in beautiful things
I believe in my beautiful things.
If that is beautiful for another
then I believe in him/her.

Eu não fico feliz com a felicidade
fico feliz com o desafio.

To be free you must never fear death
(nor the life that comes with it)



for this you don't need to be an heroic figure
you can be a taxpaying exemplar citizen

May the eye light for whatever comes and goes in our life.
Gentle spring wakes at the falling passenger seat and the door of his future
unlocked by some friendly stranger.
Steps, little steps, are touching the ground with a feminine sound.
Spiders walk on me while asleep
but there's no worry because I'm not there...
Could I be somewhere?
Oh, what a gentle soul!
Places have become an hold on which to be integrated and talk physically tall.
For clouds are gathering and he doesn't want to see them come.
The earth moving, the sun shining, birds tweet and people get mad.
Funny how I see the poorest happier than the "have moneys".
When you pass struggle after struggle and survive you know the essence of life.
Feel it in your anguish, in your anxiety, in your depression.
Life talking through you and society has nothing to do with it.
Though she's the main reason you suffer...
So suffering is life's guidance.
Feeling it makes you a wise man of yourself''s task in this life.   
Avoiding it makes you a fugitive of life and you'll seek haven on others:
society, civilization, system.
That's not you...

Don't know where to go though I follow the stream.

Oh god!
Sometimes life is just too much for me.
Planes crashing into my intuition while somebody from work talks to me,
and another, and another. They smile, they like me.
I don't know. Places I've been losing stream inside but it's ok,
memories will reply some other time.
People are deep and so powerful though they don't seem to know it.
I fucking feel it! Don't bother about knowing...
Have to think dark after some moments like that, just to find the center
where everything comes and unfolds itself.
I exist in a place of eternity so it never goes away.
In silence I comply with others, I smile and I think what I and them feel.
This makes sense to me, since I cannot live without no sense in a tremendous
insensible society, culture, civilization.
Be I on the mountain or desert, where gods collide with the individual soul,
and there, yes, I can live with no sense, for life has no sense but emotions and directions.
Be quiet boy and let chaos drop strait into the ground.
He cannot live without your concern for it.

Tudo o que tu possuis
possui-te
portanto está atento.

Trying to find the strings that putted me so in the moment.
Now, lost on some already done life...
How can you live a life already lived?
Memories are to be just in your head to guide you for a future of them, without them.
To live in the past is an art of a mind that chooses to unknow the present
but absorb it and live it as its own.
The past doesn't come again, it just, like a spiral, comes and goes in a form of a spiritual wind
that you should and must feel on your own, beautifully, quietly.
Then you will be ready for doing what you are here to do:
Do life, do your life, live your life.
Live and let live.
And learn with every single deed and person
for, if you are watchful, destiny will bring you what you need, to know where to go next.
Never compromise too much, compromise yourself to your curse and gift
and this will lead you wherever you must go.
Put your self on the service of life.
Live to tell, to understand, to believe and comprehend.
Be humble with what so ever you think is yours because it's not that yours.
You are and then you have, not the other way around.

Learning how to live
(your life)
is an heroic task.

Hard to get inside if there's a cloud near by cloud of a past person. Don't like physical yesterdays though I love and live on mine. Figures of less than perfect truth surround my vision eyes. I just like reality nowadays, what comes and goes, what is here, now. For my rush is imaginary and my soul goes with it being my body right here. Falling dreams on the stairs. Where is he, where am I? Probably near by but not in me and this is an error of tremendous consequences due to my circumstances. Need my mind free, total chaos insubordinated by outside things. All that I give I must almost hear. My mind a platform of liberty and the outside perfectly happening without me. That's peace. That is love and harmony. Get it together now boy for life needs this to exist you.

I've been in so many places that I've never seen that reality is to me something of a dream.
Passing nights that I've brightened with my youth; my old lament of passing youth to wise thoughts.
Unconditional thoughts that I used to have inside came to the streets with this mysterious writing ability. Now that times crumble I digest them and then comes new, something to hold on and walk through. No idea of where to go surely, for the minutes, seconds, that pass make me realize fortunately that I'm alive and alone. Beautifully and tiny I walk the mysteries of this universe with an introvert smile. And it is so beautiful to feel this alone and with no exterior realization. Because what there is only you, yourself, has to know. And death a pleasure of young souls, certainly! The times have changed. Individuals are no longer for action comes with togetherness. Tomorrow will be when it be and I no longer thee for the past is my only lonely future and stars bless those who rise from the earth's warm heart. Take it together and bless every day you breath. One day at a time it is. Nightmares to flame your dreams.       

For the dreamers dream is impossible and all that he desires is to forget what he encounters to be open to the nothingness of the universe and the well being of life has it is. Power of the improbable mind that it designs ways to never find for what it finds is all beginnings, and ends scream from him to the sky and drop at sea, deep blue sea it collides with earth rock. Never for the magician it's untrue what he feels but impossible it always be since he knows and has memory. Life's a mystery.

Tudo, menos poetinha Finalmente, um retrato à altura de Vinicius de Moraes, grande poeta e figuraça

Vinicius de Moraes detestava ser chamado de "poetinha", apelido que tinha muito mais relação com o personagem folclórico que ele cultivou a vida inteira do que com sua riquíssima produção – 400 poemas, 400 letras de música. No auge da irritação, dizia que o rótulo só podia ser "invenção do marido de alguma mulher que eu comi". De fato, apesar de ser um dos grandes nomes da poesia brasileira do século XX, Vinicius só teve sua obra devidamente valorizada pela crítica já quase na alvorada do século XXI. Depois de reparada essa injustiça, no entanto, passou a ser quase uma gafe falar de algo mais do que sua excelência poética. O que é uma outra injustiça, porque Vinicius de Moraes foi, sim, uma figuraça que merecia havia muito tempo um retrato à sua altura. A essa tarefa, o cineasta Miguel Faria Jr. dedicou os últimos três anos, tendo como produtora Susana de Moraes, primeira filha do poeta. O resultado é o longa Vinicius, que estréia nesta sexta-feira em circuito nacional.

Antes de chegar ao que define como "cinebiografia", Miguel tentou um roteiro de ficção. Acabou desistindo diante de dificuldades previsíveis – a começar pela escolha de quem viveria o papel-título, numa trajetória que vai de 1913 a 1980 – e partiu para o documentário. O formato é arriscado. Se preso à obrigação da imparcialidade, freqüentemente se torna excessivamente didático, chato. Se opta por ser declaradamente parcial, facilmente descamba para a exaltação simplificadora. Vinicius consegue evitar os dois extremos. O filme não tem a pretensa isenção que o gênero sugere, mas soma a um olhar amoroso sobre o poeta um grande despudor ao retratá-lo. "Queria mais emoção do que informação", diz Miguel Faria. Deu certo. Há espaço para o crítico Antonio Candido sintetizar a importância de Vinicius como o poeta que, sem abrir mão de recursos formais tradicionais, se aproximou, mais do que nenhum outro, da destruição do tema poético "nobre" pretendida pelos modernistas. Mas também para uma inspirada Tônia Carrero detalhar, em tom de confidência, as aventuras amorosas do amigo. "Ele era capaz de qualquer baixeza para conquistar uma mulher", diz.

Vinicius aparece inteiramente bêbado com um Tom Jobim em igual estado etílico cantando Pela Luz dos Olhos Teus; entoando Canto de Ossanha acompanhado por um Baden Powell quase imberbe e por um bando de jovens em animado sarau; ovacionado em shows pelo Brasil e pelo mundo; e casando-se com cada uma de suas oito mulheres. Parceiros como Chico Buarque e Edu Lobo destacam o papel primordial desempenhado por Vinicius na bossa nova e, em seguida, nos afro-sambas compostos com Baden Powell, ao mesmo tempo em que traçam um belo retrato humano. Chico lembra Vinicius desde o tempo em que a família de Sérgio Buarque de Holanda vivia em Roma, numa casa que se tornava mais alegre toda vez que o poeta avisava que apareceria para uma visita. Edu se emociona ao recordar o último encontro entre os dois, na Bahia – além de dar um pequeno show de virtuosismo ao violão ao exemplificar a "batida dobrada do Baden" em Berimbau. Ferreira Gullar cita o poeta americano T.S. Eliot ("Escrever é fugir da emoção") para mostrar como a poesia foi o caminho encontrado por Vinicius para dar conta da enorme emoção que carregava. E as filhas mostram como, do lado familiar, era por vezes bem difícil conviver com tamanha inquietude artística e amorosa.

Esses depoimentos, no total de dezesseis, são a grande força do filme, junto com belas imagens fotográficas e cinematográficas – não só do próprio Vinicius como do Rio de Janeiro nas décadas de 30, 40, 50 e 60. A narrativa é costurada por um show fictício sobre a vida de Vinicius, estrelado por Camila Morgado e Ricardo Blat e com participações de vários cantores. Esse foi o recurso encontrado para garantir a presença no filme de alguns dos poemas mais conhecidos de Vinicius, como Soneto de Fidelidade ("que não seja imortal, posto que é chama, mas que seja infinito enquanto dure"). O resultado, nesse ponto, é um tanto irregular. Blat sai-se melhor que Camila na difícil arte da declamação, principalmente na bem sacada versão para rap do poema Blues para Emmett (sobre o assassinato do jovem negro Emmett Louis Till, que ousou assoviar para uma mulher branca no Mississippi de 1955), no qual é acompanhado pelos rappers Nego Jeff e Bom. Mas, no conjunto, esse único elemento de ficção que restou do projeto original cumpre a contento sua função. Ao final, o público sai do cinema convencido de que Vinicius tinha mesmo razão em odiar o tal rótulo de poetinha. E é Caetano Veloso quem sintetiza a escolha que o poeta fez, na vida e na arte, ao relatar uma confidência que envolvia também o poeta pernambucano João Cabral de Melo Neto – conhecido por seus versos secos e por uma enxaqueca que durou cinqüenta anos. "O Vinicius me contou: 'O Cabral me disse uma vez que, se houvesse um poeta com o meu talento e a disciplina dele, o Brasil teria finalmente um grande poeta'. Mas ele fica lá com aquela dor de cabeça. Eu não queria viver com essa dor de cabeça por nada."

Lucila Soares

I am when I create
all life between is existence.

Impossible is nothing so it can be created

Good moral basis for a easy and fulfilling life

We live to (do) shit.





(literally)

Em Portugal se se quer algo feito o ideal é o não fazer nem ficar à espera.
Durou e foi bom pelo que já se imaginou.

Não é país de acção Portugal.
Apenas é país de imaginação colectiva e individual.

Desde que se não faça nada pode-se fazer tudo,
Literalmente.

A liberdade de Portugal está na mente e não na boca.

Para fazer, faça-se lá fora...

Walking the earth with no strings attached and my body wanting outside. From inside memories are displaced in an unified feeling of gratitude towards life. My feet and legs don't get tired and my smile if not on my face is in my mind, alone, the horizon, I feel life and I'm grateful for it. Don't know who I'm thanking with my smile and my tears but he knows, she knows. Well, the wind knows since when I go too deep he caresses me with some major swift. Then I walk together. Sea is down there and makes me think that I'm no longer since I feel it more than me. That's what it happens when you survive beyond your safety... And I think I'm grateful for this, for knowing this, for understanding and experiencing this. Time be and I with, marvelous unclouded life is to became me.
I cherish my pass, my walking through it all and so. Everything with me but now I go. Empty as the prophecy inside me said since little, little head. My dreams no longer since life itself, at any given moment, seems to be, for me, a phenomenal dream. This seems quite sweet but a body can't live from spirit just. Have to dirt me, have to earth me, have to be here and not there. Spirit has it's place and time. I know him and so does he. Life, physical life finally, that's a path. Find true meaning on that.    

I would like to spread your legs
and enter your key of me again soon.

Um caderno e uma caneta e a vida me é só algo.