vicki's posts with tag: desconstruíndo
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no photoshop here !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! |
| | The strangest thought came to me on this morning
As I awake to greet the coming dawn
The sun was hardly peaking through the garden
It felt that with everything I was one
Then I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
The dew had finished making love to many
A rainbow smelling sweet was in the air
I envied all the silence I saw growing
So unmoved by things outside themselves
Then how I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
Oh as a flower
As a flower
How I wished that I could come back as a flower
As a flower
As a flower
To spread the sweetness of love
To spread the sweetness of love
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
Wished that I could come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Flower
How I come back as a flower
Flower
Sweetness of love
Sweetness of love
Stevie Wonder |
| | Um homem cresce espalhando
o reino em que foi feliz.
Onde Athos ? Onde Porthos ?
Onde o tímido Aramis ?
Um homem cresce querendo
e cresce quando não quis.
Crescer é rima de vida
mas também é de morrer.
Crescer é terna ferida,
que só dói no entardecer.
Em cada raiz da morte
há sempre um verbo crescer.
E cresço: macho e poeta.
(Subo em linha, volto em cor)
cresço violentamente,
cresço em rajadas de amor,
cresço nos filhos crescendo,
cresço depois que me for.
Cresço em tempo e eternidade,
cresço em luta, cresço em dor,
não fiz meu verso castrado
nem me rendo ao opressor,
cresço no povo crescendo,
cresço depois que me for.
E cresço na aurora livre
galopando esse corcel.
cresço no verso espumando
entre as linhas do papel.
cresço rubro de esperança
na barba de Don Fidel.
(versão breve de canção dos quarenta anos - de Ruy Paranatinga Barata)
(só uma coisa me apavora - acordar morena e de cabelos lisos rsrsr
NEVER SURRENDER...
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questionning Keith Arnatt: objects from a rubbish tip or is the rubbish tip the object???
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