Do conto “carta caótica” de Elias José
“Não resista, por favor. Estou pedindo. Não espere mais, parta antes que me torne completamente cego e não consiga distinguir o perigo e me perca nos seus olhos castanhos e grandes, pedindo sempre mais. Acho que eles não pouparão os meus olhos, você estará impressa neles e isso os importuna demais. Entre o cheiro da minha carne apodrecida, só sentirei o perfume da sua colônia, e só eles chegará as minhas narinas. O amor é muito frágil diante do ódio, ele se despe e fica desprotegido enquanto o inimigo atentamente se prepara para atacar. (…) A lembrança, nosso primeiro encontro, a certeza de que era encontro e não haveria mais adeus por que antes do outros e antes de tudo, nós dois estávamos esperando um pelo outro desde o primeiro da de vida. O que a gente plantou vai florescer ao lado das pedras atiradas ou gestos de espera. As nossas fórmulas não servem para olhos virados para o inútil. É pena que tenha que ser agora a partida.”
“I’ve been with so many beautiful people (in bed) but they made some effort! Not you. I didn’t even know you, and you were a charming little bastard since the very first time I saw you, two years ago. How can you? How can you do this to yourself, if yourself is a person? Wear your oldest and ugliest tee, continue beautiful. If you let me let you go (now), i’ll still think about these pretty stuff you do (not on purpose) and its not because I’m ridiculously sticking my tongue in your mouth on weekends, but it’s because you’re that once-in-a-while guy that I enjoy knowing, cause eventually we’ll become really important people for each other. (Yes? Yes) I want to talk to you. I wanna drink your yogurt. I want to wash your hair and make you sneeze from laughing.
- Do you want to do anything to me?”
In this available set
Some day in remembruary
When we accidently met
And when everything gets dark
Read me johnny cooper clarke
Say the prayers If I sin to
When I seem to be undone
Kiss me kiss me kiss me
Rounded by friends, being condecorated
his alternative ego
misread and frustrated
Should I thank for god? Shall we tell the story?
No ones even listening
He stood for no glory
That guy was aware he was no seaman
But I smell from his spit
he’ll be bigger then
More than a simple sailor with all those tricks and skills
he has a tempestuous soul
that both gives birth and kills
One day in his cruise ship, along with his anger
his passion and his beauty
somewhere he will anchor.
I call him by his name, Andy Chownyk Shell
in 10 minutes he’ll be sitting here
and even the time it’s not that near
I’m alreay feeling well.
to a lovely friend
who made me happy
who made me suffer
who made me drunk
and made me sober
you know who you are
I love you like a dark hole loves to expand itself and swallows everything in the universe.
I love your stupid hair
I love the way you walk around
I love your chin and you beard
I love your tiny eyes
I love your nose
I love your quirky laugh
And the way you blink your eyes everytime you do it
I love all of your tats
I love the way you smell
I love the scar on your left cheek
I love your playing, I love your singin.
I love your non beliefs, I love your lips.
I love when you sing along with me
And I love the weird way you look at me.
I even love you when you’re stupid, so I can be stupid too.
And you might love something about me, but nothing compared
For all those beloved angels For all these godamned stars I will get you to the churches You will take me out to bars
In that poem I just made out A grammatical mistake And for you to realize it, how many hours will it take?
Take me out and be my best match I can be your Mrs. Jones We are tired, it’s not working All this rage and love undone
I am crying, for the record And I’llbe for all these years Optimistically talking, in the book Guinness of tears
But I sleep and you just hangs there With your other on the phone Let me go and dream about this Let me stay here all alone
And I bet she doesnt whistle You try and see if she can You may have your needs but, honey She’s not crazy like I am
Now in terms of science and shit She may dig, but yet, not still And by the apocalypse day She won’t be there like I will
All these stupid comparisons Made me think about these days When no one can grab a tissue When no one can help, or save.
But back then in year thirteen There wasn’t an ambulance I wasn’t really expecting But you saved me with a glance.
I can’t stand my wrong intentions I don’t know how this will end But I write, I say I’m sorry, Your worst lover, and best friend.