Os caminhos

Todos os caminhos que vamos juntos são sempre mais faceis de percorrer. Andar lado a lado na partilha, na ajuda e no amor só poderia ser feito com alguém perfeito.

Por isso deixei todas as imperfeições para trás e procuro fazer o caminho que nos deixaste. O caminho do amar como nos amaste e o caminho de dar a outra face.

Assumo as nossas zangas, assumo que te reneguei. Assumo que nunca me deixaste.

Ajuda-me a fazer esse caminho de amor.

Uns policias maus e um menino bonzinho

Era uma vez uns policias maus que bateram num menino bonzinho alemão. Felizmente foi num país onde a justiça funciona e os policias maus foram presos por 4 anos.

Agora se a versão for

Era uma vez uns meninos maus que bateram num policia bonzinho nesse mesmo país sabem quando os meninos maus são presos? Quando passarem a ser 3ª idade bonzinhos...

e andamos nós a pagar impostos especiais para isto!

O problema da agricultura e das pescas em Portugal

Assunção Cristas a primeira ministra nascida depois do 25 de Abril de 1974, descobriu o problema da agricultura e das pescas em Portugal.

O problema, já resolvido pela solicita ministra é o uso de gravatas em reuniões.

e andamos nós a pagar impostos especiais!

Voltei

I'm back. Espero que depois deste tempo ninguém leia estas coisas que escrevo.

Desfazer o que fizemos

Pensava.
pensei que foi feito o que ambos pretendíamos.
pretendia fazer o que ambos pensávamos.
entre ambos pretendíamos pensar o que deveria ser feito.

Vejo-te ao longe
imagino-te perto
sinto o teu cheiro
aquecem-me as tuas mãos

Sofri por te perder
chorei por não te ter
faltava-me o ar
em cada respiração que tinha.

Cortei-me para te sentir
sentia a vida a fugir
fugia-me a vontade
a vontade de existir

Enlouqueci
e da loucura
surgiu a lucidez
de continuar

continuei vivo
hoje sobrevivo
e penso na sorte
que tive em te perder.

Pensamento do dia

O homem foi condenado e é entrevistado no canal publico?

Este País é uma vergonha.

Pensamento do dia

Ajudar para exigir.

Para que o ciclo da miséria, da falta de educação, do desemprego e da fome termine.

Há 47 anos um Homem imortal sonhou

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

The way you make me feel

Amo-te!

Pensava que algum dia ia voltar a ouvir essa frase. Ou seria antes uma expressão? Decididamente era uma expressão que causava muita, demasiada impressão. Aquela impressão que apenas a mais elaborada das frases conseguia trazer.

Esse dia lá longe ou cá perto, quente ou frio, brilhante ou cinzento era sempre especial. O sussurro de um prazer, a partilha de um olhar, o suspiro, aquele suspiro que pede para parar continuando, que implora a eternidade num momento, são estes, eram aqueles que procuro.

Hoje sei que sim. Ontem pensava que não. Amanhã logo se vê. Estou cansado. Estou demasiado cansado para prosseguir. Só que pensava que algum dia...

Hoje tenho de escrever

Hoje tenho de escrever.

Nenhuma das letras que possa aqui deixar é suficiente para revelar a importância de alguém como Tu. Consegui ter por breves momentos o prazer da tua companhia, do teu cumprimento e de partilhar contigo duas conversas, banais, mundanas. Mas também tive o prazer de te ouvir, de te escutar e na procura do entendimento do que ouvia, na meditação do que escutava conseguir evoluir. Entendo que este mundo não tem lógica, nem justiça. Entendo que Deus é cada um de nós e que a eternidade é feita em cada momento da nossa existência. Procurarei entender mais, sempre mais.

Se algum dia tive a ousadia de escrever algo e de partilhar com alguém mais do que eu próprio, foram esses momentos que me inspiraram. Apetecia-me tanto escrever algo que, pelo menos para mim, fosse profundo, marcante, decisivo, no fundo digno de Ti e da Tua obra mas sinto-me incapaz. Penso no agora, penso neste momento, penso na eternidade deste segundo e compreendo a importância da Tua vida. A real importância dos teus pensamentos e na forma genial com que os conseguiste transmitir.

Os momentos, imagens, sentimentos, amores, ódios, crenças e feitiços que me criaste levaram-me mais longe, nunca a direito e quase nunca pelo caminho mais fácil, mas sempre marcantes, irrepetíveis e esplendorosos.

Hoje tenho de escrever porque hoje inicia-se a tarefa de manter esses momentos, imagens, sentimentos, amores, ódios, crenças e feitiços para o futuro. O meu futuro mas mais importante para o futuro de todos.

Não sei se Deus existe. Não sei sequer se é importante saber se existe. Sei que tu exististe e também sei que a tua obra sempre existirá.

Obrigado José Saramago.