Beforeall, only to remind: This text is destined to people +18 years old, I know that internet "had no limitd" but...
Eu verdadeiramente te desencorajo a ler esse texto se você for menor de idade, recado dado, bora se divertir ;)
I truthfully discourage you yo read below this text if you're under 18, warnings given, let's have fun together! ;)
---------------------------
Puta que pariu.
Que olho azul que ela tinha.
Com certeza o seu batom vermelho já matou que uma pistola,
Bala de canhão e até
RPG
Coletando corações por onde
Passa
Mais que Hiroshima
Se essa ruiva quisesse ir pra China
A passagem, algum otario pagaria
Um otário como eu,
Em troca de uma noite
A transa dela deve chicotear como açoite
Chega de rima, por hoje
Você também já se apaixonou no
Metrô de sp?
-Ué, então existe amor aqui, sim.
Mesmo que seja só de Eros,
Posso contar de um a dez e adicionar
Mais uns zeros
Que rima podre, olha eu aqui poetizando de novo
Perdi o foco, a chance e quem sabe aquela ruiva de vermelho
Li uma vez em algum lugar:
"Você nunca vai comer uma ruiva."
-Mas e se ela quiser me dar?
Aí é diferente, lembro da Magda, na minha frente, limpando a porra com papel toalha
Charles Bukowski, já tive que escolher entre você e Jesus.
Deus, me dê licença poética, pra falar de astrologia e transar quem sabe algum dia, ao meio-dia. Aceito até a condição do casamento.
Quem sabe essa morena,
Da minha frente,
Se impressiona com essa suja mente
Desse poeta comedor
Se ela não tivesse ido pro lado
E trocado o lugar que tivesse
Sentado
E viesse pro meu colo...
Prometo que, de novo, não fico de pau duro se o momento não for oportuno e quando,
A gente estiver sozinhos naquele
Quarto
Será que dá pra ficar sozinho, quando junto?
Pensei nisso nesse minuto, quando me levantei pra oferecer meu lugar.
Podem parar as guerras, os filmes, músicas mas não a poesia.
Que flui na minha mente praticamente todo dia
Me arranquem um braço e terei o outro
Arranquem minhas pernas e escreverei com a boca, recitarei os poemas que me exultam e anestesiam essa dor
Como diria: cortem-lhe a cabeça. Nesse momento, durmo em direção á eternidade.
Deus, por favor não se esqueça
Da casa que comprei no céu,
Naquela igreja que rima com sal
Obrigado pela atenção...
Se você leu atentamente até aqui,
Entende que fica fácil ser são,
Quando se é louco.
Saiba que no último minuto, aquele que invocar o nome do Senhor, será salvo... Li em algum lugar!
Se aqui a traça corrói e os metais enferrujam
Prefiro pisar na cidade feita de muros com pedras preciosas
Onde não há mais choro e hemos de pisar no mais puro ouro
Construída pelas mãos do próprio Eterno Criador
Deus, pelo Senhor tenho infinito respeito, mas peço-lhe que não me tire o direito de escrever estas rimas,
Quase-morto
Quase-mortas
Obrigado.
-English Verdion-
Holy mother of God (Son of a bitch)
What a beautiful pair of blue eyes she had
I am absolutely sure her red lipstick has already killed
more than a pistol,
Cannon balls and even an
RPG
Collecting hearts wherever she
passed by
more than Hiroshima
If that foxxie redhair wanted to go to China
some idiot would pay for her
Some idiot guy like me
in exchange of one night with her
Her sex must be stronger than a whip
Enough of rhyme, for today
Have you ever fell in love in the Subway?
-So, there is love around here, yea.
Even if the love is only from Eros,
I can count from one to ten and add some
more zeros
What a bad rhyme, look me here
being a poet again
I lost my focus, the change and perhaps that
redhair girl
I read somewhere:
"You are never going to fuck a redhair."
-What if she wants me?
Then it's different, I remember Magda, in front of me,
cleaning the sperm with toilet paper
Charles Bukowski, I've already had to
decide between you and Jesus Christ
God, give me poetic license, to talk about astrology and have
sex perhaps someday, on midday. I accept the conditions of holy matrimony.
Perhaps this brunnete,
in front of me,
Gets impressed by this dirty minded
fucker poet
If she had not went to that side,
And switched the place she has
Sit
And came to sit on me...
I promise, again, this time I don't get hard-cocked
if the moment is not the best and when,
we get alone in a
room
Is it possible to be alone, when together?
I though about it at this moment, when I raised up
to offer my seat
You can stop the wars, the movies, the songs but not the poetry
That always flows in my mind, everyday
Please remove my arm and I'll be glad to write with the other one
Remove my legs and I'll write with my mouth, speaking out loud
the poems which make me happy and cut out my pain
As they would say: Take out his head
At this moment, I'd sleep to eternity
God, please don't forget that house which
I bought in Heaven,
In that church with rhymes with "sal"
Thanks for the attention...
If you have read until here,
You can easily understand that it is easy to remain sane
when you are insane all the time
Know that in the last moment, those whom evoke the Holy Name
shall be saved, I read it somewhere
If things here witter and metals get old,
I'd rather place my feet on a city where the walls are made
of precious stones
Where there is no more tears and you step on
the purest gold
Built by the hands of the Allmighty Eternal Creator
God, I really respect you, but please do not remove
my right to write these rhymes,
almost-dead,
almost-dead rhymes.
Thanks.
---------------
Holy mother of God (Son of a bitch)
What a beautiful pair of blue eyes she had
I am absolutely sure her red lipstick has already killed
more than a pistol,
Cannon balls and even an
RPG
Collecting hearts wherever she
passed by
more than Hiroshima
If that foxxie redhair wanted to go to China
some idiot would pay for her
Some idiot guy like me
in exchange of one night with her
Her sex must be stronger than a whip
Enough of rhyme, for today
Have you ever fell in love in the Subway?
-So, there is love around here, yea.
Even if the love is only from Eros,
I can count from one to ten and add some
more zeros
What a bad rhyme, look me here
being a poet again
I lost my focus, the change and perhaps that
redhair girl
I read somewhere:
"You are never going to fuck a redhair."
-What if she wants me?
Then it's different, I remember Magda, in front of me,
cleaning the sperm with toilet paper
Charles Bukowski, I've already had to
decide between you and Jesus Christ
God, give me poetic license, to talk about astrology and have
sex perhaps someday, on midday. I accept the conditions of holy matrimony.
Perhaps this brunnete,
in front of me,
Gets impressed by this dirty minded
fucker poet
If she had not went to that side,
And switched the place she has
Sit
And came to sit on me...
I promise, again, this time I don't get hard-cocked
if the moment is not the best and when,
we get alone in a
room
Is it possible to be alone, when together?
I though about it at this moment, when I raised up
to offer my seat
You can stop the wars, the movies, the songs but not the poetry
That always flows in my mind, everyday
Please remove my arm and I'll be glad to write with the other one
Remove my legs and I'll write with my mouth, speaking out loud
the poems which make me happy and cut out my pain
As they would say: Take out his head
At this moment, I'd sleep to eternity
God, please don't forget that house which
I bought in Heaven,
In that church with rhymes with "sal"
Thanks for the attention...
If you have read until here,
You can easily understand that it is easy to remain sane
when you are insane all the time
Know that in the last moment, those whom evoke the Holy Name
shall be saved, I read it somewhere
If things here witter and metals get old,
I'd rather place my feet on a city where the walls are made
of precious stones
Where there is no more tears and you step on
the purest gold
Built by the hands of the Allmighty Eternal Creator
God, I really respect you, but please do not remove
my right to write these rhymes,
almost-dead,
almost-dead rhymes.
Thanks.
---------------
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