Soul slide...

Love will survive the hate! I believe.

What you feel now... is what I feel for you.

"Take My Hand..." (lyrics by Dido)

Touch my skin... and tell me what you're thinking?
Take my hand... and show me where we're going...
Lie down next to me... look into my eyes and tell me...
Oh tell me what you're seeing?

So... sit on top of the world... and tell me how you're feeling?
What you feel now is... what I feel for you!
Take my hand... and if I'm lying to you... I'll always be alone... if I'm lying to you...

See my eyes... they carry your reflection...
Watch my lips... and hear the words I'm telling you...
Give your trust to me... and look into my heart... and show me...
Oh show me what you're doing!
So ... sit on top of the world... and tell me how you're feeling...
What you feel now... is what I feel for you...

Take my hand... and if I'm lying to you... I'll always be alone!? If I'm lying to you...
Take your time... and if I'm lying to you...
I know you'll find that... you believe me... You believe me!

Feel the sun on your face... and tell me what you're thinking?
Catch the snow on your tongue... and show me how it tastes...
Take my hand... and if I'm lying to you... I'll always be alone!? If I'm lying to you...
Take your time... and if I'm lying to you...

I know you'll find that... you believe me... You believe me!
What you feel now... is what I feel for you.

O Dom de ser *FELIZ*!

Tocando em Frente:
(música popular brasileira)

"Ando devagar porque ja tive pressa...
E levo esse sorriso porque já chorei demais.
Hoje me sinto mais forte, mais feliz quem sabe,
Eu só levo a certeza, de que muito pouco eu sei.
Eu nada sei.
Conhecer as manhas e as manhãs,
O sabor das massas e das maçãs.
É preciso amor para poder pulsar,
É preciso paz para poder sorrir,
É preciso chuva para florir...
Penso que cumprir a vida seja simplesmente,
Compreender a marcha... ir tocando em frente...
Como velho boiadeiro levando a boiada,
Eu vou tocando os dias pela longa estrada...
Eu vou, estrada eu sou...
Todo o mundo ama um dia, todo o mundo chora.
Um dia a gente chega, no outro vai embora.
Cada um de nós compôe a sua história...
E cada ser em si, caarrega o dom de ser capaz... de ser feliz!"

MBP (brazilian popular music) sang by lesbian singer: Maria Bethania

Machine moon!!!!

(Portishead - *Machine Gun* Lyrics)

I saw a saviour, a saviour come my way
I thought I'd seen it, at the cold light of day
but now I realise that I’m... only for me?

If only I could see, you turn myself to me
and recognise the poison in my heart
there is no other place, no one else I face
Remedy... we’ll agree, is how I feel!

Here in my reflecting: What more can I say?
For I am guilty, for the voice that I obey!
Too scared to sacrifice a choice... chosen for me

If only I could see, you turn myself to me
and recognise the poison in my heart
there is no other place, no one else I face
Remedy... we’ll agree, is how I feel!

"O Amor em VISTA" (by Herberto Helder)

O Amor em Vista
(poema de Herberto Helder)

(...)
Dentro da tua face, estará a pedra da noite.
- Então cantarei a exaltante alegria da morte

Nem sempre me incendeia o acordar das ervas, e a estrela despenhada da sua orbita viva.
- Porém, tu sempre me incendeias.
Esqueço o arbusto impregnado de silencio diurno, a noite imagem pungente, com seu deus esmagado e ascendido.
- Porém, não te esquecem meus coraçoes de sal e brandura.
Entontece meu hálito com a sombra, tua boca penetra a minha voz, como a espada se perde no arco.
E quando gela a mãe em sua distância amarga, a lua estiola, a paisagem regressa ao ventre, o tempo se desfibra – invento para ti musica, a loucura e o mar.

Toco o peso da tua vida. A carne que fulge o sorriso, a inspiração.
E eu sei que cercaste os pensamentos com a mesa e a harpa.
Vou para ti com a beleza partida, os ombros violados, o sangue penetrado de paredes nuas.
Digo: eu sou a beleza, seu rosto e seu durar. Teus olhos transfiguram-se, tuas mãos descobrem a sombra da minha face.
Agarro tua cabeça àspera e luminosa, e digo: Ouves meu amor?, eu sou aquilo que se espera para as coisas, para o tempo – eu sou a beleza.
Inteira, tua vida o deseja. Para mim se erguem teus olhos de longe.
Tu propria me duras em minha velada beleza.

Então sento-me à tua mesa. Porque é de ti que me vem o fogo.
Não há gesto ou verdade, onde não dormissem tua sombra e loucura, não há vindima ou àgua, em que não estivesses pousando o silencio criador.
Digo: Olha, é o mar e a ilha dos mitos originais!
Tu das-me a tua mesa, descargas na vastidão da terra a carne transcendente. E em ti principiam o mar e o mundo.
(...)

*corpos*

there's nothing I'd like better than... to fall...

Daddy
by: Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do any more,
black shoe, in which I have lived like a foot...
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo...

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time... marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe,
Big as a Frisco seal...

And a head in the freakish Atlantic,
Where it pours bean green over blue... in the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you... Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town,
scraped flat by the roller of wars, wars, wars...
But the name of the town is common,
My Polack friend says... there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell... where you put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you... the tongue stuck in my jaw...

It stuck in a barb wire snare... ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak!?
I thought every German was you...
And the language obscene, an engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew...

A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen...
I began to talk like a Jew, I think I may well be a Jew...
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna,
are not very pure or true...
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck... and my Taroc pack... and my Taroc pack... I may be a bit of a Jew...

I have always been scared of you!
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo... and your neat mustache, and your Aryan eye... bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, Oh You!

Not God but a swastika, so black... no sky could squeak through!
Every woman adores a Fascist, the boot in the face, the brute...
Brute heart of a brute like you...

You stand at the blackboard, daddy, in the picture I have of you...
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot, but no less a devil for that,
no not... any less the black man who... bit my pretty red heart in two...

I was ten when they buried you... at twenty I tried to die... and get back, back, back to you... I thought even the bones would do?

But they pulled me out of the sack, and they stuck me together with glue...
And then I knew what to do:
I made a model of you, a man in black with a Meinkampf look...
And a love of the rack and the screw... and I said I do, I do.

So daddy, I'm finally through!
The black telephone's off at the root, the voices just can't worm through...
If I've killed one man, I've killed two:
The vampire who said he was you... and drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know... daddy, you can lie back now...

There's a stake in your fat black heart, and the villagers never liked you?
They are dancing and stamping on you... they always knew it was you... daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.


From "Ariel", 1966