Cromos continuados

Tipper Gore

Back in 1985 the P.M.R.C. (Parental Music Resource Center) was formed by a group of Washington wives led by Senator Al Gore's wife Tipper Gore, because she had overheard her daughter listening to the track Darling Nikki, from Prince's album Purple Rain. Outraged over the content of the lyrics, Tipper Gore formed the P.M.R.C. with a group of other Washington wives. This group came before a national Senate hearing demanding that the record industry monitor and using an outside source rating system, label each album for content such as Sex, the Occult, and Drug references. Three artists, Frank Zappa, Dee Snider of Twisted Sister, and John Denver testified on behalf of the artists stating that 1st amendment rights would be violated with this form of censorship. John Denver's song, Rocky Mountain High, was actually banned because it was determined by a third party that it made reference to drugs by using the word high in the lyrics. In honor of VH-1's new movie, Warning:Parental Advisory, below is the famous, Filthy Fifteen! These songs were on top of the P.M.R.C's hit list. Beside the track listing is the reason the song made the list. Though you may not always agree with the lyrics some artists write, you should always help protect everybody's 1st amendment rights, or somebody like the P.M.R.C. may end up telling you what you can & can't listen to.

PMRC, muhahhaha!!!

Caraças que era mesmo de legumes. E houve qq coisa que me caíu mal. De que filme era isto, "temos que deixar de nos encontrar assim".

Sim.

Jack (Knave) of Spades

Called “Hogier” on the French deck: origin is uncertain, but perhaps after Ogier the Dane from the Song of Rolland. He has a feather in his hat. He faces forward, a little to the right. On the English deck, he holds an unidentifiable object (initially a spear). He has a mustache. He faces right, and is seen in profile.

Ah que sono.

Voto útil, ou o meu desejo nesta Quadra (dia 20 nem sequer estou em Portugal)

Anda tudo parvo!

(a vermelho as manifestações de loucura implícitas no texto)


Liberais e conservadores asseguram reeleição

O governo liberal-conservador da Dinamarca assegurou a sua reeleição, ao vencer as eleições no país. Anders Fogh Rasmussen conseguiu mesmo ser o primeiro líder de governo liberal a ser reeleito.
( 09:35 / 09 de Fevereiro 05 )

Anders Fogh Rasmussen tornou-se, na terça-feira, o primeiro primeiro-ministro liberal a conseguir uma reeleição na Dinamarca, conseguindo mesmo que o seu governo de centro-direita alcançasse mais um lugar no parlamento local do que em 2001.De acordo com os resultados definitivos anunciados pelo Ministério do Interior, o governo liberal-conservador, que governará em aliança com o Partido do Povo Dinamarquês, de extrema-direita, conquistou 95 dos 179 lugares do parlamento.Por seu lado, a oposição liderada pelos sociais-democratas voltou a perder as eleições, registando mesmo o pior resultado em 32 anos, o que levou Mogens Lykketoft a pedir a demissão da liderança do partido.Apesar da derrota do principal partido da esquerda, a oposição de esquerda e centro-esquerda obteve 80 lugares no parlamento, mais três que em 2001.A campanha foi marcada pelo tema da imigração, na sequência da aprovação de algumas leis em 2002 que dificultaram a possibilidade de esposas estrangeiras virem para a Dinamarca e de poderem requerer asilo.



Portanto na Dinamarca o Governo é de esquerda, centro e direita, sendo a oposição por seu turno de esquerda, centro e direita. Os principais partidos de esquerda e de direita sofreram pesadas derrotas, o que configura uma situação de aproximação do povo ao centro, pela esquerda e pela direita.

:thumbsup: !!!

Pomar. Cavar o dia todo!

Não resisto a publicar uns ranks muit'a giros que eu e o Miguel inventámos para o Forum.

É que nunca se sabe, de hoje para amanhã a net desaparece por coincidência ou pela mão da Instrumentalidade Corporativa da Ordem Negra.

E depois era mau.


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Estou com "writer's block".

Não me apetece malhar em gato morto, logo não vou escrever sobre os arrebanhados, a impunidade, o deserto moral, as ruas, os céus, a chuva, as milhentas realidades mesquinhas onde cada um se perde acreditando que a vida é aquilo.

Não me apetece explorar a minha recém-descoberta tranquilidade pintando cenários de ilhas, de portos, de neve, de praias, de guitarras sensuais em cestos de fruta.

Não me apetece ir correr, levantar pesos, executar dez séries de abdominais por minuto, assar um empadão de cogumelos ao som de Filter.

Só pode ser do frio, e acreditem que esta conclusão tem muito que se lhe diga. É que é bem possível que, por causa do frio e do tempo fora de tempo, não esteja apenas eu com a cabeça trocada.

Por outro lado acredito que estas primeiras árvores tenham vindo na altura certa, arautos de dias reconquistados.

Ainda não sei o endereço do blog do Zé.

Ainda tenho que vir para aqui todos os dias asfixiar.

Estou com as idéias congeladas como um pacote de chocos de Madagáscar, ainda.

Terá de ser. O vaipe com hora marcada. O diálogo com a neura e com o cansaço espiritual na base do "mas qu'é'sta porra".

Tou com writer's block.

Há milénios que não dormia depois de almoço...

Eu também acho o Zé um grau de tudo. Um grão de Mundo. Grande Zé. Agora levaste-me ao nexus da amizade.

The fires burning, through my eyes,
Lightning strikes, burning highs,
A surge, a rush, a smokey tier,
The flickering flame what I hold dear.
Find me no, not yet 'neath this moon,
A scorning breath you hear yet soon,
The pyre of night finds me high,
For fire, my truth,
Through my eyes.

Agora podia escrever sobre a magnífica, no entanto singela refeição que acabei de tomar. Sobre frutos e céus azuis, o mar e as pessoas que se gastam em pretensas realidades. Os bardos também descansam... a coisa continua cá.

Seen the carnival at rome
Had the women I had the booze
All I can remember now
Is little kids without no shoes
So I saw that train
And I got on it
With a heartful of hate
And a lust for vomit
Now I’m walking on the sunnyside of the street

Stepped over bodies in bombay
Tried to make it to the u.s.a.
Ended up in nepal
Up on the roof with nothing at all
And I knew that day
I was going to stay
Right where I am, on the sunnyside of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail
I just don’t want to be reborn a snail
Just want to spend eternity
Right where I am, on the sunnyside of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore
To take my life as I would a whore
I know I’m better than before
I will not be reconstructed
Just wanna stay right here
On the sunnyside of the street

A melhor frase de engate de todos os tempos:

"Eia, vê lá se isto não cheira a clorofórmio!!!"

Walking Away

It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day -
A sunny day with the leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new ruled - since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away

Behind a scatter of boys, I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.
That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parents stem,
Has something I never quite gasp to convey
About nature’s give- and- take - the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one’s irresolute clay.

I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly, show
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go.

- Cecil Day-Lewis

(:* c)

(descobri o poeta perfeito)

The trouble with snowmen

'The trouble with snowmen,'
Said my father one year
'They are no sooner made
than they just disappear.

I'll build you a snowman
And I'll build it to last
Add sand and cement
And then have it cast.

And so every winter,'
He went on to explain
'You shall have a snowman
Be it sunshine or rain.'

And that snowman still stands
Though my father is gone
Out there in the garden
Like an unmarked gravestone.

Staring up at the house
Gross and misshapen
As if waiting for something
Bad to happen.

For as the years pass
And I grow older
When summers seem short
And winters colder.

The snowmen I envy
As I watch children play
Are the ones that are made
And then fade away.

- Roger McGough

Saudades de dar aulas

The Lesson


Chaos ruled OK in the classroom
as bravely the teacher walked in
the hooligans ignored him
hid voice was lost in the din

"The theme for today is violence
and homework will be set
I'm going to teach you a lesson
one that you'll never forget"

He picked on a boy who was shouting
and throttled him then and there
then garrotted the girl behind him
(the one with grotty hair)

Then sword in hand he hacked his way
between the chattering rows
"First come, first severed" he declared
"fingers, feet or toes"

He threw the sword at a latecomer
it struck with deadly aim
then pulling out a shotgun
he continued with his game

The first blast cleared the backrow
(where those who skive hang out)
they collapsed like rubber dinghies
when the plug's pulled out

"Please may I leave the room sir?"
a trembling vandal enquired
"Of course you may" said teacher
put the gun to his temple and fired

The Head popped a head round the doorway
to see why a din was being made
nodded understandingly
then tossed in a grenade

And when the ammo was well spent
with blood on every chair
Silence shuffled forward
with its hands up in the air

The teacher surveyed the carnage
the dying and the dead
He waggled a finger severely
"Now let that be a lesson" he said

- Roger McGough

Let Me Die a Youngman's Death

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

- Roger McGough

Haiku

Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
No difference.

The sparrow shits
upside down
--ah! my brain & eggs

Mayan head in a
Pacific driftwood bole
--Someday I'll live in N.Y.

Looking over my shoulder
my behind was covered
with cherry blossoms.

Winter Haiku
I didn't know the names
of the flowers--now
my garden is gone.

I slapped the mosquito
and missed.
What made me do that?

Reading haiku
I am unhappy,
longing for the Nameless.

A frog floating
in the drugstore jar:
summer rain on grey pavements.
(after Shiki)

On the porch
in my shorts;
auto lights in the rain.

Another year
has past-the world
is no different.

The first thing I looked for
in my old garden was
The Cherry Tree.

My old desk:
the first thing I looked for
in my house.

My early journal:
the first thing I found
in my old desk.

My mother's ghost:
the first thing I found
in the living room.

I quit shaving
but the eyes that glanced at me
remained in the mirror.

The madman
emerges from the movies:
the street at lunchtime.

Cities of boys
are in their graves,
and in this town...

Lying on my side
in the void:
the breath in my nose.

On the fifteenth floor
the dog chews a bone-
Screech of taxicabs.

A hardon in New York,
a boy
in San Fransisco.

The moon over the roof,
worms in the garden.
I rent this house.

- Allen Ginsberg

Ivan Noble, 1967-2005, RIP