Midnight in Harlem

Well, I came to the city

I was running from the past

My heart was bleeding

And it hurt my bones to laugh

Stayed in the city

No exception to the rules, to the rule

He was born to love me

I was raised to be his fool, his fool

Walk that line, torn apart

Spend your whole life trying

Ride that train, free your heart

It's midnight up in Harlem

I went down to the river

And I took a look around

There were old man's shoes

There were needles on the ground

No more mysteries, baby

No more secrets, no more clues

The stars are out there

You can almost see the moon

The streets are windy

And the subway's closing down

Gonna carry this dream

To the other side of town.

Walk that line, torn apart

Spend your whole life trying

Ride that train, free your heart

It's midnight up in Harlem

Mensagem pictória I...

Festa na prisão

Essa saudade é assim, essa perda de contato com a sublimação do querer, que fez morada dentro da alma. Sem querer nem ela nem eu, se perdeu.
É uma perda eterna, singela na sua compreensão.
Corre na cinza das horas, latente em suas lágrimas e chega sem dar compensação, nem no tempo, nem na eternidade.
Fizeram festa na prisão, mas sozinha, ela adoeceu.

Potência... How many times can we say goodbye ?

...

"Here we are so close to the end now

Still holding on and trying to pretend now

Clinging to love we both know is dying

We've tried and tried to find the solution

But darling

All our dreams have been played out

Still we go on hopelessly trying

How many times can we say good-bye ?

How many times can we see love die ?

How many times can we give it one more try ?

Before we really say good-bye

Good-bye

We're so in love but wrong for each other

Each hurt that heals brings on another

Both of us abusing

Both of us using

Darling

It's time to stop pretending

There's just no way to rewrite our ending

We're caught in this game

And we both know we're losing, but

How many times can we breakup and makeup ?

Both of our hearts refusing to wake up

Just can't go on and on

Living a lie

Though i'll always love you..."

How many times can we say good-bye ?

(dionne warwick)

recrearse...

“Saberse negra es vivir la experiencia de haber sido masacrada en su identidad, confundida en sus expectativas, sometida a exigencias, compelida a expectativas alienadas. Pero es también, y sobre todo, la experiencia a comprometerse a rescatar su historia y recrearse en sus potencialidades” 

(Santos Souza: 83: 18)

Feelings,

Nothing more than feelings,

Trying to forget my

Feelings of love.

Teardrops

Rolling down on my face,

Trying to forget my

Feelings of love.

Feelings,

For all my life I'll feel it.

I wish I've never met you,

You'll never come again.

Feelings,

Wo-o-o feelings,

Wo-o-o, feel you again in my arms.

Feelings,

Feelings like I've never lost you

And feelings like I'll never have you

Again in my heart.

Feelings,

For all my life I'll feel it.

I wish I've never met you, girl;

You'll never come again.

Feelings,

Feelings like I've never lost you

And feelings like I'll never have you

Again in my life.

Feelings,

Wo-o-o feelings,

Wo-o-o, feelings again in my arms.

Feelings...

"pra correr entre os canteiros..."

até quando mais

jamais eu puder criar

empresto alguns versos seus

para a triste voz circunda de dor e mágoa

por vez não se calar

diante de tanta tristeza e silêncio

na imensidão desse tão meu [a]mar

essa voz silenciará um dia

eu sei

choro a dor desse tempo chegar

e eu, que tanto fiz para sentir

sentirei a leveza daquele que amei

e

fui amada por seu breve encanto

dentre tantas... um leve brincar

"Sem querer te perdi tentando te encontrar
por te amar demais sofri, amor
me senti traído e traidor
fui cruel sem saber que entre o bem e o mal
Deus criou um laço forte, um nó
e quem viverá um lado só?
a paixão veio assim afluente sem fim
rio que não deságua
aprendi com a dor nada mais é o amor
que o encontro das águas
esse amor
hoje vai pra nunca mais voltar
como faz o velho pescador quando sabe que é a vez do mar
qual de nós
foi buscar o que já viu partir, quis gritar, mas segurou a voz,
quis chorar, mas conseguiu sorrir?
quem eu sou?
pra querer
entender
Amor"
(jorge vercillo)f

...

...

Ruas, becos, sons e alguma luz.

Ilustres, quietos em desespero, retalhos da

Lua.

Ypslons reticentes, intermináveis...

Fincados, entorpecidos. Dormentes na alma. 

Um viver arqueo[lógico] das palavras, das imagens e dos sentidos.