Moonshine, I'm waiting for a love that never comes
Moonshine, wishing for a time that never was
I'm waiting for a time , for truth to call
I'm waiting for a sign, to show me all
I'm waiting for my love
Moonshine, drinking to a love that's gone on by
Moonshine, look into the starsas cars go by
I'm waiting for a time , for truth to call
I'm waiting for a sign, to show me all
I'm waiting for my love
I'm waiting for a time , for truth to call
I'm waiting for a sign, to show me all
I'm waiting for my love, waiting for my love
Waiting for my love, waiting for my love
Moonshine, I'm waiting for a love that never comes
"Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know—because once I wanted
something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly…And when
I got it it turned to dust in my hands." F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned
Sei que estás em festa, pá
Fico contente
E enquanto estou ausente
Guarda um cravo para mim
Eu queria estar na festa, pá
Com a tua gente
E colher pessoalmente
Uma flor do teu jardim
Sei que há léguas a nos separar
Tanto mar, tanto mar
Sei também quanto é preciso, pá
Navegar, navegar
Lá faz primavera, pá
Cá estou doente
Manda urgentemente
Algum cheirinho de alecrim
...
After 3 years chico didn´t believe it anymore
Foi bonita a festa, pá
Fiquei contente
E inda guardo, renitente
Um velho cravo para mim
Já murcharam tua festa, pá
Mas certamente
Esqueceram uma semente
Nalgum canto do jardim
Sei que há léguas a nos separar
Tanto mar, tanto mar
Sei também quanto é preciso, pá
Navegar, navegar
Canta a primavera, pá
Cá estou carente
Manda novamente
Algum cheirinho de alecrim
28 years later the perspective of a humanized country as a consequence of the revolution is lost and the political establishment is doing everything to turn innocuous the date
Morning comes
All your friends are dead or gone
You sit there staring at the wall
You tripped you took a long hard fall
You can't sleep, you're cold
You're numb you're wasted, you feel beat
You get burned
You hurt like hell you'll never learn
You'll just do what you always do
When people wash their hands of you
Lose yourself in alcohol and any drugs you find
Nobody can help you when you're this far down
Nobody can help you
Nasty Dan was the meanest man I ever knew
He's stomp and scream and be real mean the whole day through
He'd frown a bunch he ate nails for lunch and he'd never laugh
He'd growl and yell and I hard tell that he never took a bath
Nasty Dan was a nasty man
Hard to understand that Nasty Dan
Now Nasty Dan was a nasty man the whole day long
He'd go where he could he'd try real good to make things go wrong
He'd jump for joy when a little boy would trip and fall
And the only words that he ever said were I don't like you at all
Nasty Dan was a nasty man
Hard to understand that Nasty Dan
Now a real interesting thing that I want you to know about is this here
Because it's the most important thing it concerns a girl and things like that
Now Nasty Pearl was a nasty girl that met Dan somehow
She said you like me rotten as can be let's get married now
So they went and they did and had a nasty kid
And I must confess that Dan pretty much leaves everyone alone now
And he doesn't bother anybody anymore cause he just lives in his nasty ol' house
With his nasty ol' wife and his nasty ol' kid in nasty happiness
Nasty Dan was a nasty man
Hard to understand that Nasty Dan
I got me a friend at last
He don't steal or cheat or drink or lie
His name's codeine, he's the nicest thing I've seen
Together we're gonna wait around and die
Our only hope is that animals and plants could joint together in a new live aid or something and gather enough money to build reserves and zoos that could aloud human race to live under their protection, in small habitats/groups. Then we´ll have some possibility to survive.
- Thenwe place theaverage size books, in groups, never less thanfour(side to side)and with thedeploymentspacecenter /leaning against the wallbut reducingitto the booksonthe lower layers.
-Finally,pile upthe latest average books,interspersed withmagazines,placedover each otherin asingle column that allowsthe userto observeothersights andexperiencesthat he could notdo otherwise.
My mum and I we live alone
A great apartment is our home
In Fairhome Towers
I have to keep me company
Two dogs, a cat, a parakeet
Some plants and flowers
I help my mother with the chores
I wash, she dries, I do the floors
We work together
I shop and cook and sow a bit
Though mum does too I must admit
I do it better
At night I work in a strange bar
Impersonating every star
I'm quite deceiving
The customers come in with doubt
And wonder what I'm all about
But leave believing
I do a very special show
Where I am nude from head to toe
After stripteasing
Each night the men look so surprised
I change my sex before their eyes
Tell me if you can
What makes a man a man
At 3 o'clock or so I meet
With friends to have a bite to eat
And conversation
We love to empty out our hearts
With every subject from the arts
To liberation
We love to pull apart someone
And spread some gossip just for fun
Or start a rumour
We let our hair down, so to speak
And mock ourselves with tongue-in-cheek
And inside humour
So many times we have to pay
For having fun and being gay
It's not amusing
There's always those that spoil our games
By finding fault and calling names
Always accusing
They draw attention to themselves
At the expense of someone else
It's so confusing
Yet they make fun of how I talk
And imitate the way I walk
Tell me if you can
What makes a man a man
My masquerade comes to an end
And I go home to bed again
Alone and friendless
I close my eyes, I think of him
I fantasise what might have been
My dreams are endless
We love each other but it seems
The love is only in my dreams
It's so one sided
But in this life I must confess
The search for love and hapiness
Is unrequited
I ask myself what I have got
Of what I am and what I'm not
What have I given
The answers come from those who make
The rules that some of us must break
Just to keep living
I know my life is not a crime
I'm just a victim of my time
I stand defenceless
Nobody has the right to be
The judge of what is right for me
Tell me if you can
What make a man a man
Tell me if you can
Tell me if you can
Tell me if you can
What makes a man a man
America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for
murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over
from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie
producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals
an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles and hour and
twentyfivethousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underpriviliged who live in
my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his
automobiles more so they're all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they
sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the
workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party
was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother
Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have
been a spy.
America you don're really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take
our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader's Digest. her wants our
auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
Saraiva man, I´m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel
segunda-feira, 9 de abril de 2012
" I was
soaked to the skin and up to the eyes in mud and I was hungry and cold and
I was fifty thousand light-years far from home.
A foreign sun emitted an icy bluish light and the gravity, double what
I was used to, made the slightest movement weary and painful. After some forty thousand years, this corner of the universe had notchanged at all.
It was very easy for the air force, with brilliant spacecrafts and
superweapons, but when one arrived there, it fell to the infantryman to
take and hold the position, with blood, inch by inch. Like this bloody
planet of a star we had not heard of it until we landed on it. And now it
was holy ground because the enemy had come.
The enemy, the other intelligent race everywhere in the galaxy...
cruel, repulsive, hideous creatures, horrible monsters.
The first contact had taken place in the centre of the galaxy, after
the slow and difficult colonization of thousands of planets; and war broke
out, immediately. They had begun to fire without trying to reach an
agreement, a peaceful solution. And now, planet by planet, we had to fight
tooth and nail.
I was soaked to the skin and up to the eyes in mud and I was hungry and
cold; the day was livid, the wind was blowing so hard that it harmed my
eyes. But the enemies were trying to infiltrate and all the positions were
vital.
I was alert, the gun ready. Fifty thousand light-years far from my
mother country, fighting on a foreign world and I wondered if I could save
my skin until I could go back to my homeland, my wife, my little
daughter... Then I saw one of them creeping towards me. I aimed my weapon and
opened fire on it. The enemy gave that strange horrible cry that all of
them used to utter. Then a deathly silence. It was dead. The cry and the
sight of the dead body made me shudder. In the course of time, many of us
had become accustomed, took no notice of that; but not me. They were
horrible disgusting creatures, with only two legs, two arms, two eyes,
that sickening white skin and without scales!" The Sentinel - Fredric Brown
Mama, you are so beautiful!!!!
I feel so proud when you come into my school and I know all my mates feel jealous of me
How could they not be?
There are times I can´t stand being with you
There are times I can no longer bear your thoughts or your words... You, whoareamongthe others, the only person I cant be away from
