fio

Sou uma faca q ri qdo é afiada.

ginas feros grimas tonas

cansei de rasgar tantas pá-
com rimas de sons infrutí-
depois de secar muitas lá-
cortei minhas proparoxí-

clima pessoal

à força, se preciso, levarei meu guarda-chuva
às mais distantes plagas de meu clima pessoal
se não preciso mais de quem meu sol não coadjuva
também não peço nada a quem não seca meu varal

por isso destas linhas verte um nonsense de borrasca
em vossos inocentes olhos plenos de pudor
a fruta que germino nem um bom facão descasca
e o tempo putrefato não consegue decompor

se nuvens carregadas de gotinhas de aguarrás
no chão chovessem céus de fúria besta e corrosiva
talvez restasse ao homem dissolver-se como um lodo

mas nada que o algoz em nossos ossos liqüefaz
iguala em acidez o rol de enzimas de saliva
que jorram destas sílabas rimadas num engodo

o espelho não responde

Diálogo é sempre entre duas pessoas diferentes.

advice to man

who is unsure about what to expect of lady acquaintance he sees almost every day, after she starts talking about another man and cancelling engagements.

The man who thinks a lady must belong
by right to him who sees her face most oft
will soon believe that Batman's tagalong
should stick to him until their minds go soft.
Now I think Robin has no business staying
well after Batman to Catgirl does marry
because 'tis obvious Robin should be playing
in quite a diff'rent band, not there to tarry.
Now if thy aim when cultivating her
was more for future gain than present cheer,
thou shouldst have known that girls do never err
by choosing men who can't live now and here.
    'Tis best thou barkst up someone else's tree
    for ten to one the lady wants not thee.

palavras palavras palavras

Alguém por favor enforque a Cássia Eller, onde estiver.

advice to Josephine,

from HMS Pinafore, who's planning to elope with a common sailor in her father's ship because she knows her father will be against her love for the lad.

Your father knows what's best for you
You'd better not break this taboo.
He takes his ship across the sea,
See how he's stronger than is she.

The waves will try to hold her butt
But he will prove that she's no slut,
And sail her safely till she moors:
Morale does more than all amours.

maracujá

Deve ser triste viver em país q não tem.

contemporizemos

A vida é curta e não há neste vasto mundo palavras suficientes pra q sequer duas pessoas se entendam mutuamente.

further advice to George III,

who complains that previous advice overlooks that if his son claims the king is mad, Britain's fate will be seriously compromised.

Your love takes root,   you wed your wife,
your seed is sown   to breed new life.
But now your fruit   is ripe to rot,
and you bemoan   what you begot.
Bemoan my foot!   You should delight
his true worth's known   while you can fight!

Though he's a brute,   your son won't win:
he's just a baddy,   steeped in gin.
He's not astute   to cast some doubt
on what his daddy's   sure about
(though that's a moot   point, I decree:
that you are mad is   clear to me.)

To grab his loot   he must make plain,
when lawyers quiz   him, that your brain
is fast en route   to lunch in Surrey.
But that's mere fizz,   you need not worry.
And I dispute   your cause to fear
that claim of his.   'Tis hardly clear
what harm his suit   could do to Brits,
whose pastime is   to lose their wits.

advice to George III,

who complains that his son has turned out badly, has become a rake and threatens to claim his father is mad.

You rue as fact   that he's a rake,
a foe to tact   you would forsake.
But would you bet   against your son,
whose fault as yet   is having fun?
Let children go   the way they choose:
they will do so   by right or ruse;
just trust your genes,   you need not gripe:
the kid who weans   will soon be ripe.
And if you doubt   your son's true worth
then there's no clout   in your own birth.

advice to Fanny Price,

from Mansfield Park, who burns for her cousin, wants him to burn for her in return and wonders how to make him turn his passions loose.

When cousins set their hearts ablaze
and speed their blood in fiery ways,
they may forget that genes were meant
to mix with those of foreign bent,
for nature thwarted causes pains
to children born with crookéd veins.

You burn for him but still forget
you'll carbonize those you beget.

advice do Abe Lincoln's mom,

who worries that he studies too much and does not learn about the pleasures of life.

A fact well-known   to moms with boys
is that the brats   have subtle ploys
to get their own   ideas round
their folks' diktats   to keep them sound.

I bet your kid   pretends to study,
and borrow books,   and gets all muddy,
but goes amid   the slave-girls lewdly
to learn their nooks   and grow up shrewdly.

Don't raise your knobbly   hand at him
because the chances   are not slim
a young man's hobby   may become
a nation's stance   against the scum.

advice to Henry Crawford,

from Mansfield Park, who cannot bear the thought that Fanny Price is going to marry someone else and may have discarded him because of his dalliance with another woman.

It's often said of women's choice
of men to share their life,
“The dowry must include a Royce
or wedlock ends in strife.”

But that belief's not wholly true:
some ladies love indeed.
Among these there are quite a few
whose noses never bleed.

And though I know not where Miss Price
belongs among that list,
I know you leave her cold as ice
–and that, sir, is the gist.

advice to Marie Antoinette,

who wonders what to do about the dreadful peasants who are revolting and insisting that they have no bread.

A dame like you has nought to worry
from scabby peasants at your gate:
their hands are numb, their eyes are blurry,
their hearts and minds are seventh-rate.

That they are hungry serves them well
for scrapping kale and craving bread.
So let them pound at your doorbell
there's nought to make you lose your head.

advice to Valmont,

from Les Liaisons Dangereuses, on momentarily having second thoughts about death after being mortally wounded in a duel.

Perhaps it's worse to go on living
with conscience stabbing at your heart
with knives long, sharp and unforgiving
than with a single blow depart.

But since your death is now so near
– and one which you procured so keenly –
it's not, sir, in good taste to fear
an end that meets your type routinely.

One further evil stains your case:
you were a more adroit seducer
than most of us men on the chase.
So cheers to him who finished you, sir.

further advice to Huckleberry Finn,

who wasn't satisfied by previous advice and asks to be taught one or two important manners, just to keep the widow happy. 

There's no set of manners to master
that might cure a social disaster.
There's only one rule,
you won't learn at school:
"Do everything slower, not faster."

If by this good rule you are bound,
I wager you'll soon be renowned
the sweetest of boys
who never annoys
the ladies, the snobs, or the crowned.

advice to Scarlett O'Hara,

from Gone With the Wind, who asks if Rhett Butler will come back to her.

You are the sort of girl, I guess,
who teases men with 'no' and 'yes',
then 'no', then 'maybe yes and no',
till cows dry up and home they go.

Amid two loves you sit, I bet,
expecting pleasing vows from Rhett.
I toast to him who had the sense
to send you crashing off your fence.

A civil war may rage, I swear,
and billions die and fields go bare
before your ex will hear your claim,
the same old dame who shamed his name.

advice to Huckleberry Finn,

who's tired of having Widow Douglas tell him to mind his manners, and wonders if they are really necessary.

The widow is under th'impression
that manners should be a reflection
of feelings we carry inside.

More often than not they are merely
a front to avoid showing clearly
the thoughts we had much better hide.

She must be in permanent terror
that making a slight little error
might nakedly show her dark side.

But why should you care if at table
the priggish old diner might label
your messiness undignified?

Your wild ways I urge you continue.
They prove there is much goodness in you,
and more: you're no Jekyll and Hyde.

advice to Baroness Elsa Schraeder,

from The Sound of Music, on expressing a desire to marry the Captain, in spite of his seven children

My dear baroness!
You out of your senses?
Don't ever say yes:
just think of th'expenses!
Get out of that mess
before it commences.

I grant you the truth
that love should be blind;
but think of the youth
you must leave behind
with seven uncouth
li'l devils combined!

And cause for divorce
will start in a whiz:
I've heard from a source
– a housemaid of his –
the Captain's workforce
is where his heart is.

Indeed, he's most canny:
that nice Captain chap
would marry my granny
in less than a snap
to get him a nanny.
   So, out! It's a Trapp.