16 septembrie, 2009
categorii: Uncategorized . . Autor: lucian . Comentarii: Scrieti un comentariu

-guten morgen sonnenschein !
- ‘neata , .. ce faci, cat e ceasul …. e soare afara!? . si nu mai injura nemteste… :D
-esti cu bot
-nu
-pacat ( si aici imi lasam imaginatia sa cotrobaie ascuns , inspre maluri numai de mine stiute )
- la ce te gandesti ?
-a , eu …. la pielea ta ….cred
-ai innebunit , clar
- stiu.
-pfffuiiiiiii , ce bine miroase cafeaua. am visat dimineata asta in infinite deja vu-uri. esti atat de crud uneori …
-pielea ta e crud-parguita si nu-mi vorbi mie de vise. doar stii. exista.
-spune-mi , de ce te uiti atat de mult in ochii mei , uneori am strafulgerari sticloase ca-mi furi gandul.
- as vrea piersici mustoase acum.
-n-am
-de unde iti vin rautatile astea , rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
( dau sa musc )
- iielp , ielp , ma mufcaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
-hmmmmmmmmmmmmm
… afara soarele spusese lunii, de ceva ceasuri bune , a tout a l’heure … noi nu stiam decat de talazuri si stele, nori si ploi de vara , diamonds and rust
We Had Him:
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing
Now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace
Sing our songs among the stars and and walk our dances across the face of the moon
In the instant we learn that Michael is gone we know nothing
No clocks can tell our time and no oceans can rush our tides
With the abrupt absence of our treasure
Though we our many, each of us is achingly alone
Piercingly alone
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him
He came to us from the Creator, trailing creativity in abundance
Despite the anguish of life he was sheathed in mother love and family love and survived and did not more than that
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style
We had him
Whether we knew who he was or did not know, he was our’s and we were his
We had him
Beautiful, delighting our eyes
He raked his hat slant over his brow and took a pose on his toes for all of us and we laughed and stomped our feet for him
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing
He gave us all he had been given
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana’s Blackstar Square, in Johannesburg, in Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama and Birmingham England, we are missing Michael Jackson
But we do know that we had him
And we are the world.
Moare cate putin cine se transforma in sclavul obisnuintei, urmand in fiecare zi aceleasi traiectorii;
cine nu-si schimba existenta;
cine nu risca sa construiasca ceva nou;
cine nu vorbeste cu oamenii pe care nu-i cunoaste.
Moare cate putin cine-si face din televiziune un guru.
Moare cate putin cine evita pasiunea,
cine prefera negrul pe alb si punctele pe “i” in locul unui vartej de emotii, acele emotii care invata ochii sa staluceasca, oftatul sa surada si care elibereaza sentimentele inimii.
Moare cate putin cine nu pleaca atunci cand este nefericit in lucrul sau cine nu risca certul pentru incert pentru a-si indeplini un vis;
cine nu-si permite macar o data in viata sa nu asculte sfaturile “responsabile”.
Moare cate putin cine nu calatoreste;
cine nu citeste;
cine nu asculta muzica;
cine nu cauta harul din el insusi.
Moare cate putin cine-si distruge dragostea;
cine nu se lasa ajutat.
Moare cate putin cine-si petrece zilele plangandu-si de mila si detestand ploaia care nu mai inceteaza.
Moare cate putin cine abandoneaza un proiect inainte de a-l fi inceput;
cine nu intreaba de frica sa nu se faca de ras si cine nu raspunde chiar daca cunoaste intrebarea.
Evitam moartea cate putin, amintindu-ne intotdeauna ca “a fi viu” cere un
efort mult mai mare decat simplul fapt de a respira.
Doar rabdarea cuminte ne va face sa cucerim o fericire splendida. Totul depinde de cum o traim…
Daca va fi sa te infierbanti, infierbanta-te la soare
Daca va fi sa inseli, inseala-ti stomacul
Daca va fi sa plangi, plangi de bucurie
Daca va fi sa minti, minte in privinta varstei tale
Daca va fi sa furi, fura o sarutare
Daca va fi sa pierzi, pierde-ti frica
Daca va fi sa simti foame, simte foame de iubire
Daca va fi sa doresti sa fii fericit, doreste-ti in
fiecare zi…
P. Neruda
