tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86474801872340155112012-02-11T13:59:57.046-08:00Local de degustação de poesias, textos sem outras presunções, mini-contos e lances desconexos do cotidiano que nos habita a alma. Pode chegar que será bem-vindo.Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.comBlogger341100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-81546186760022315442008-02-13T15:13:00.000-08:002008-02-13T15:16:22.608-08:00<strong><span style="color:#993300;">por todas as coisas aprendidas</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">inutilmente</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">por todas as coisas</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">guardadas no improviso da dor</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">agora recolho meu próprio vulto</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">no que permite a solidão</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">neste duro chão humano</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">mas me falta o suor</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">do teu corpo</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#993300;">e a direção dos ventos</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-8154618676002231544?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-43957847200832160562008-01-10T18:03:00.000-08:002008-01-10T18:08:33.080-08:00<strong><span style="color:#990000;">sou um</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">entre os três elementos</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">que o discurso encerra</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">: sou o assunto - a coisa</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">que registra e doma</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">noutra forma</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">a pessoa que fala</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">mas quando digo</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">- o fim do discurso! -</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">falo do terceiro elemento</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">: o ouvinte que nada ouve?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">ou me refiro àquilo</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">que sou no discurso</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">- o meio - pensamento - falatório ?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">não sabendo o ser do discurso</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">quando este se esvazia e morre</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">nos frisos lisos dos teus dentes</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">e não querendo ver o curso</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">das secretas frutas das cidades</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">posso - falso inventor de madrugadas -</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#990000;">desvendar a solidão áspera dos fonemas ?</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-4395784720083216056?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-29375805478911885012008-01-10T15:29:00.000-08:002008-01-10T17:37:06.499-08:00<span style="color:#990000;"><strong>a) se digo adeus</strong><br /><strong>é pelo cansaço</strong><br /><strong>por correr demais</strong><br /><strong>a procura deste chão</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>se des-digo</strong><br /><strong>é pela covardia</strong><br /><strong>a falta do meu rio</strong><br /><strong>e tudo que me roubou</strong><br /><strong>as águas do não</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>se digo adeus</strong><br /><strong>é pelo constume</strong><br /><strong>de sempre andar</strong><br /><strong>como se à frente</strong><br /><strong>houvesse outro chão</strong><br /><strong>a desvendar</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>b) des-vendar</strong><br /><strong>o que se oculta</strong><br /><strong>nos confins da carne</strong><br /><strong>( ou no último</strong><br /><strong>quadrante da alma)</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>esse halo que me guarda</strong><br /><strong>como um beijo premonitório</strong><br /><strong>escreve o meu destino</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>des-atar</strong><br /><strong>o que primeiro se inscreveu</strong><br /><strong>na junção de todos os planetas</strong><br /><strong>e agora se revela</strong><br /><strong>na leitura inóspida</strong><br /><strong>do meu mapa astral</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>c) noite e dia</strong><br /><strong>a renitente busca</strong><br /><strong>o mudo esforço</strong><br /><strong>pois astro algum</strong><br /><strong>me pesa ao dorso</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>dia e noite</strong><br /><strong>mais persigo</strong><br /><strong>o revide do tempo</strong><br /><strong>que a posição dos signos</strong><br /><strong>na constelação do nada</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>se fico</strong><br /><strong>é pelo terrível</strong><br /><strong>: o calafrio que dá:</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>se digo adeus</strong></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-2937580547891188501?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-47061495632193487882007-12-23T15:37:00.000-08:002008-01-10T15:29:23.763-08:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R27x97POb9I/AAAAAAAAAD8/s3iKikWD9so/s1600-h/unnamed.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147317470306922450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R27x97POb9I/AAAAAAAAAD8/s3iKikWD9so/s320/unnamed.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#009900;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">2008 tinindo de espera</span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">nça e paz</span></strong></span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-4706149563219348788?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-19104964981841206032007-12-23T14:20:00.001-08:002007-12-23T14:22:27.604-08:00<strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">não penso a palavra</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">mudando as pessoas</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">ela é tão banal</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">: um bom dia que escapa</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">no meio da calçada</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">: um fragmento de amor</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">solto na tua boca</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">frágil muito frágil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">não penso a palavra</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">desfazendo a mala</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">impedindo a partida</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">é verdade</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">que ela inventa coisas</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">faz você pensar</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">mas é só</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-1910496498184120603?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-18656007771232936062007-12-23T14:14:00.000-08:002007-12-23T14:19:00.116-08:00<strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">nunca pensei</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">meus poemas atravessando</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">o tempo</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">fazendo cócegas</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">nos teus pés macios</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">sendo um muro invisível</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">entre tu e o novo passageiro</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">nunca pensei</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">meus poemas povoando</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">a estante do teu quarto</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">se aninhando</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">nas velhas teias de aranha</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">querendo ser presente</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">quanto tudo já passou</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-1865600777123293606?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-87528851974984815002007-12-23T14:11:00.000-08:002007-12-23T14:18:21.096-08:00<strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">um exercício inútil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">: decifrar no esqueleto</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">a textura da pele</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">o estúpido segredo</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">mas são limpos os mortos</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">nas pegadas das cidades</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">são limpos os ossos</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">brancos troços</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">de alguma história</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">(o retrato sobre a mesa</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">é um espaço em trânsito)</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-8752885197498481500?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-58736566763607875322007-12-12T15:06:00.000-08:002007-12-12T15:11:00.277-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><br />: inclinada na cadeira<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);">completamente imóvel<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);">a morte descansava<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);">no teu corpo</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-5873656676360787532?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-47087447510264742062007-12-12T15:00:00.000-08:002007-12-12T15:05:34.360-08:00<span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">há mulheres<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">que sentam nas calçadas<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">à espera de quem partiu<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">como estátuas absortas<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">em duros pensamentos<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">outras se cercam de fumaças<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">e tossem noite adentro<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">como tísicas condenadas<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">mas entre todas admiro aquelas<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">que esquecem os lábios partidos no tempo<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">os olhos molhados de rímel<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">e rodopiam pela noite afora<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">brincando de viver<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">com os filhos pálidos das cidades<br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-4708744751026474206?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-33410889305950682142007-12-12T14:52:00.000-08:002007-12-12T15:06:21.031-08:00<span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">não me entristece mais</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">a violência dos humanos<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">porque livre dos mistérios<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">o dia escorrega<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">como um ponteiro sobre meu pulso<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">(há espanto nas ruas<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">agudas feridas à deriva)<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">que estalam estradas e nervos<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">no itinerário pálido do homem<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">onde o cordão se estica e prende<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">a umbilical ânsia dos vivos<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">: quem espia o mundo<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">entre cárceres e orações<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); font-weight: bold;">tem a sempre a face crua<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">essa máscara - dura e lívida</span><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-3341088930595068214?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-23569577377288087612007-12-09T10:52:00.000-08:002007-12-12T14:52:34.286-08:00<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">repare um instante<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">o galo não canta mais<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">não há quintais nem frutas<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">pelos cantos das cidades<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">repare só um instante<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">na pausa que a noite imprime<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">o silêncio mortal das crianças<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">e este zumbido eletrônico<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">que sobe pelas gargantas das paredes<br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-2356957737728808761?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-71649606770106310352007-12-09T10:31:00.000-08:002007-12-09T10:46:01.655-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R1w1iZIDxSI/AAAAAAAAAD0/zBjke2MNX6I/s1600-h/%3D61528093_6956.jpg%26v%3DP.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 172px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R1w1iZIDxSI/AAAAAAAAAD0/zBjke2MNX6I/s200/%3D61528093_6956.jpg%26v%3DP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142043739526776098" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br /><br />por que sei dos quatros cantos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">dos prantos aos tontos ventos</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">creio louca a fome dos brancos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">esse sede de quem logo advinha</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">além da sina o passo que caminha</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br /><br />por que sei do sinos silentes</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">das dores em danças de duendes<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">pouso minha mão sobre o Livro</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">para que a insígnia do peixe</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">não morra na ponta deste anzol</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">por que sei mortos os encantos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">dos enganos aos vivos espantos</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">escrevo a ferro o torto nome</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br />mas o santo a quem faço a jura</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br />não doma a alma dessa criatura</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-7164960677010631035?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-40869552042227380532007-12-09T10:19:00.000-08:002007-12-09T10:27:41.003-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">reter é se exaurir</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">correntes de duras pedras</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">nunca mais lições insuladas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">na excisão de exausta memória</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">tenho no estreito vão do corpo</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">( a segregar tonta e pálida)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">a estima débil pelos postes</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">onde a luz embuça o artifício</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">de aqui sofrer declinante dor</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">o que transita em tuas veias</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">é o sangue escuro do temor</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">a desfolhar em graves teias</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">as coisas simples dos homens</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">retenho</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">- por teimoso que sou -</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">as velhas cantigas de rodas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">e confesso a moribunda sorte</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">de passar condescendente</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">sobre as sementes do asfalto</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-4086955204222738053?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-82135591114972570272007-12-09T10:10:00.000-08:002007-12-10T03:53:59.607-08:00<span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >este quarto este espelho<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >que me fita e a nada me reduz<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >essa luz que me fere de esguelha<br /></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">traz em si minhas duras parelhas<br /></span><br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >espaço onde armo minhas redes<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >ouço o ranger de elos e dentes<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >aqui onde a direção se perde<br /></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">nenhum lugar há que desconheça<br /></span><br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >este quarto este momento<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >em que a mão se põe suspensa<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >e a voz se faz lamento<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >além do desespero e da face tensa<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >tenho o fogo do tormento<br /><br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >neste quarto entre tais paredes<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);" >onde o corpo se despe por inteiro<br /></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">sinto a distância fria dos intrusos<br /></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">como se fosse eu um estrangeiro</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-8213559111497257027?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-51943763860767327992007-11-28T15:25:00.000-08:002007-11-28T15:29:51.595-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R035c8Y6AFI/AAAAAAAAADs/imVdvjI7a90/s1600-h/yun_1151.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R035c8Y6AFI/AAAAAAAAADs/imVdvjI7a90/s200/yun_1151.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138037025541849170" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">me persegue a vaga omissão<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">deste chão que não é nosso<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">esteira secreta da infância<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">onde levemente nos tocamos<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">agora é fogo que não queima</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">face estreita da interminável<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">esperança<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">vem<br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">livra-me deste castigo<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">unge meu corpo de incenso<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e me abandona neste vão<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">súbito do sono</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-5194376386076732799?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-83887169791271154252007-11-28T15:17:00.000-08:002007-11-28T15:31:27.812-08:00<div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">teu adeus molhado<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">escreveu<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">mágoas e suspiros<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><br />o vazio vesgo dos olhos<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">rasgou o silêncio<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e o vão úmido da noite<br /><br /><br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">teu adeus molhado<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">pingando nesta boca<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que sequer abriu<br /><br /><br /><br />Ah!Deus<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-8388716979127115425?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-75381942853646149852007-11-28T15:07:00.000-08:002007-11-28T15:22:10.509-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R031ycY6AEI/AAAAAAAAADk/p6_ZsA9vj-Y/s1600-h/yun_527.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R031ycY6AEI/AAAAAAAAADk/p6_ZsA9vj-Y/s200/yun_527.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138032996862525506" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">não pergunto mais<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">com tanta insistência</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">onde vai a história<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">nem me esforço tanto<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">na procura da ordem inversa</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">do sim</span><br /> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">do não sem encanto<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">não quero explicar os fenômenos<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">as causas das leis</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">as metas e as físicas</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">porque me cansa<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">ter que caravelar pelos Mediterrâneos<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">de luneta em punho interrogando o mar<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">sobre aqueles que passaram<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">como eu</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">portando mastros e bandeiras</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">liquidando moscas e insetos</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-7538194285364614985?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-60087696807252071742007-11-20T17:37:00.000-08:002007-11-20T17:41:05.961-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">não me entristece mais</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">a violência dos humanos</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">porque livre dos mistérios</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">o dia escorrega</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">como um ponteiro sobre meu pulso</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">(há espantos nas ruas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">agudas feridas à deriva)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que estalam estradas e nervos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">no intinerário pálido do homem</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">onde o cordão se estica e prende</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">a umbilical ânsia dos vivos</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">: quem espia o mundo</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">entre cárceres e orações</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">tem sempre a face crua</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">essa máscara - dura e lívida</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-6008769680725207174?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-59994159849113663732007-11-20T17:18:00.000-08:002007-11-20T17:27:49.168-08:00<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">procuro além do zodíaco</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">a poeira do teu rosto envelhecido</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">procuro aves e obeliscos</span><a style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R0OJGcY6ADI/AAAAAAAAADc/QOyH5AvbTHc/s1600-h/pr80827.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 157px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/R0OJGcY6ADI/AAAAAAAAADc/QOyH5AvbTHc/s200/pr80827.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135098743925375026" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e sei do grave risco</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que traz o anverso da pluma</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">no míssil que jaz</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">entre um silo e o silêncio</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">procuro no céu de maio</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">o manto branco de Deus</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">asa suspensa se batendo ao sol</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e o distante azul das penas</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">mas súbito avançam</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">ogivas com asas de tântalo</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">semeando a simetria das órbitas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e o rebater dos laser-tipos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">na entranha de gasta memória</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-5999415984911366373?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-12943337142697866332007-11-20T17:04:00.000-08:002007-11-20T17:18:06.053-08:00<span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">quanto mais tempo vivo</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">mais rostos desabam sobre</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">o meu </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"> ( chão de todos )</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">alguns se partem em pedaços</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">como a vida sendo lavada</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">pelos ventos de Chernobyl</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">e quanto mais procuro</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">o fio</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"> o condutor dos metais</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">mais me faço pedra e osso</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">sobre este chão</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-1294333714269786633?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-8135466391283097472007-11-15T12:26:00.000-08:002007-11-15T12:29:46.224-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RzysD8Y6ABI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wUQRHbjdYYQ/s1600-h/yun_936.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RzysD8Y6ABI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wUQRHbjdYYQ/s200/yun_936.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133166859045699602" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">(para sempre)</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br />a mais duras das pedras</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br />(para sempre)<br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">a mais fria das vidas</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-813546639128309747?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-67126195111112190472007-11-15T12:09:00.000-08:002007-11-15T12:14:13.086-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">(declaração)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">faço saber que andei</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">espantei todos os fantasmas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e hoje enfrento a cidade</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">com as mãos no bolso</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e um assobio na boca</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">(intervalo)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">com essa calma soturna</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">é certo que não me engano</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">com essa gramática suja</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">com esses carinhos tão súbitos</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">(declaração)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">faço saber que mudei</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">depus a arma na gaveta</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">guardei as sombras no porão</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">agora planejo fazer canção</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">ser sentinela dos jardins</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">inventar outros amigos</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">(intervalo)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e nunca mais adeus</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">dos que passaram por acaso</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">na linha oblíqua do tiro</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-6712619511111219047?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-9587825198146564852007-11-15T11:49:00.000-08:002007-11-15T12:05:45.709-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RzymGMY6AAI/AAAAAAAAADI/9TMTAV4cDbk/s1600-h/bomba007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 112px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RzymGMY6AAI/AAAAAAAAADI/9TMTAV4cDbk/s200/bomba007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133160300630638594" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">será o tempo uma cilada</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">armada nos cantos das cidades</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">onde os homens articulam versos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e revoluções?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">ou só um ato desatado</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">num palco de cem cenários</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">como a cortina deste século</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">envolta no peso atômico</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">dos elementos?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">será um artifício</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que arrebenta a cada instante</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">as portas escoradas na distância</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">feito o outro lado do meu corpo andante</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">a caminhar impune</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">pelas veias secas dos teus braços?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">ou nada há que investigar</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">nos rostos atônitos das crianças</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">no cansaço incerto dos passantes?</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-958782519814656485?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-41796396757521683732007-11-15T11:42:00.000-08:002007-11-15T11:48:54.337-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/Rzyh7sY5__I/AAAAAAAAADA/e6oHvaFqmeE/s1600-h/yun_3838.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/Rzyh7sY5__I/AAAAAAAAADA/e6oHvaFqmeE/s200/yun_3838.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133155722195501042" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">se me fosse dado</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">o registro do tempo</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">diria que lá ficaram</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">os rebocos dos homens</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">mas sei agora</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que aquelas trincheiras</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">eram valas visionárias</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">bem longe de mim</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">elas vomitavam fogo e sangue</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">arrebentavam</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">com seus cheiros insuportáveis</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">os encantos rebeldes dos homens</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">novamente desperto</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">para as coisas perdidas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e não me pesa</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">as chagas das culpas</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">eu -</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">logo eu -</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que jamais fui passageiro do Pacífico</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">que jamais ouvi os sinos de Ilha Negra</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-4179639675752168373?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-62211554695089232552007-10-23T11:58:00.001-07:002007-10-23T13:34:31.774-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/Rx5as4C4F-I/AAAAAAAAACg/fWwKwrFTXUM/s1600-h/photo.cruzes.foto.id2824i.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/Rx5as4C4F-I/AAAAAAAAACg/fWwKwrFTXUM/s200/photo.cruzes.foto.id2824i.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124633152999397346" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">esta noite é turvo o sereno<br /> mas o corpo inteiro acalenta<br /> o desfiar do terço em rezas<br /><br /> a alma - cera derretida - dança<br /> em plena liturgia do medo<br /> o feitiço de todas as sombras<br /><br /> esta noite é longa a espera<br /><br /> o tempo achovalhado fere<br /> o duro e seco chão humano<br /> sangra esse silêncio úmido<br /> e o meu noturno desencanto<br /><br /> esta noite é inútil a angústia<br /></span><br /></span></span></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-6221155469508923255?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-5823207558698846242007-10-20T07:05:00.000-07:002007-10-20T07:10:16.109-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxoML4C4F6I/AAAAAAAAACA/0nKp9yhIbfU/s1600-h/cassiano1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxoML4C4F6I/AAAAAAAAACA/0nKp9yhIbfU/s200/cassiano1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123420924249905058" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Meu irmão,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">por onde ande</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">não cale sua voz</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">"como os gritos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">roucos dos navios"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">a nos banhar</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">de acalantos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">a</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">própria vida.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-582320755869884624?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-50384598781489922052007-10-20T04:19:00.000-07:002007-10-20T04:35:17.226-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;"> apito de trem</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxnnKoC4F4I/AAAAAAAAABo/IDY-jwaIKt8/s1600-h/Foto+trem.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 159px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxnnKoC4F4I/AAAAAAAAABo/IDY-jwaIKt8/s200/Foto+trem.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123380220844840834" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">roendo a alma<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">( ou o que dela</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">sobrou)</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">verme vermelho</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">ferrugem<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">no aro do tempo<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">tem ainda<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;"> a espreita da ronda<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> e o umbral da morte</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:14;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style=""></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:14;"><span style=""></span><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:14;"><span style=""></span><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:14;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-5038459878148992205?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-21506949482642435282007-10-19T19:06:00.001-07:002007-10-19T19:06:35.223-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-size: 100%;">sinto os leves vestígios<br /> da tua alma: nenhuma confissão<br /> é necessária<br /><br /> ( os corpos em desencontros<br /> guardam a dor para depois )<br /><br /><br /> no teu colo apenas o suor<br /> de quem parte ao encontro<br /> das bocas: não mais o sal<br /> não mais a angústia<br /> não mais ...<br /><br /><br /> e você<br /> guerreira urbana<br /> qual uma serpente<br /> me seduz</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-2150694948264243528?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-35244492433486725812007-10-19T18:59:00.001-07:002007-10-20T17:15:28.931-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxqXooC4F7I/AAAAAAAAACI/F5krUQ9UEQE/s1600-h/Capa+Uneversos+Poesia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 260px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxqXooC4F7I/AAAAAAAAACI/F5krUQ9UEQE/s200/Capa+Uneversos+Poesia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123574250287404978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"> Foi a</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">s</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">sim, primeira vez, todos ansiosos.<br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >O rece</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >io era evidente, mostrar aos outros, mostrar-se, desvendar-se.<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >Foi o começo, os versos primeiros. Não aqueles do coração, dos </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >ardentes e sôfreg</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >os ais de amor. Mas, os primeiros dos outros, daqueles </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >que leram e disseram sim!<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >Compa</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >rações, as inevitáveis comparações. Três coisas distintas,<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >três par</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >tes diferentes do ser. Mas, ali todos perseguiam a tal chamada un</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >idade. Os une-versos. Exigência óbvia dos tempos!<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Une-versos reuniu outras coisas mais importantes que versos.</span></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-3524449243348672581?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-21927818341215674682007-10-16T10:41:00.000-07:002007-10-19T19:24:29.366-07:00<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >essa ampulheta<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >sobre a mesa da vida<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >mede o sussurro dos lábios<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >e a foice do tempo<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >essa mesma areia<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >que prende afunda<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >e queima</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >mais soterra o que<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >dela retiro<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >a toda ferrugem da morte<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >essa areia<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >nos vértices da alma<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >entre vultos de arcanjos<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" >corrói o corpo<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">e promete a ardência do fogo</span><br /><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-2192781834121567468?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-59709442484453553912007-10-16T10:08:00.000-07:002007-10-19T19:23:08.783-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" >"A poesia não se propõe consolar o homem da morte, mas fazer com que ele vislumbre que a vida e a morte são inseparáveis: são a totalidade. Recuperar a vida concreta significa reunir a parelha vida-morte, reconquistar um no outro, o tu no eu, e assim descobrir a figura do mundo na dispersão de seus fragmentos."</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Octávio Paz<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:100%;" >(do diário de Lívia )</span><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxlhooC4F2I/AAAAAAAAABM/yPPTMCziApQ/s1600-h/Fotos+Brasilia+030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 210px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_szafRZut1lc/RxlhooC4F2I/AAAAAAAAABM/yPPTMCziApQ/s200/Fotos+Brasilia+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123233401682794338" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">serei teu marinheiro<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">porto ou vagante</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">quando em noites marítimas</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">vagares pelos cais dos mundos<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e qualquer dia<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">sairei pela escuridão das docas</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">me encostarei nos bares<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">e beberei teus olhos úmidos de sal<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">(enquanto teu corpo<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">aberto a todos os homens<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">naufraga nas costas do Atlântico)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-5970944248445355391?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-48480664241801246922007-10-15T17:51:00.000-07:002007-10-19T18:52:18.219-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">dentro de mim<br />um chão de esguelha<br />me vigia<br /><br />dentro de mim<br />um cão<br /> se dabate<br />e late e fere<br /><br />feito mim<br />um vigia do não<br /><br />(e a culpa que meu coração<br />não mais abriga)<br /><br /></span><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-4848066424180124692?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-14298156750820512422007-10-15T11:54:00.001-07:002007-10-15T12:08:50.248-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: arial;">já somos passado<br /><br />não há o que limpar<br />no assoalho das antigas barricadas<br />- quem sujou as mãos<br />que procure um chão mais sólido<br />nada de falsas moções<br />meias orações<br /><br />sendo tarde<br />há ferrugens nas armas<br />desalento nas trincheiras<br />(agora nada de sofrer à-toa)<br /><br />há só que guardar<br />em definitivo<br />esse velho vestido desbotado<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-1429815675082051242?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647480187234015511.post-58673272788836134432007-10-15T10:22:00.000-07:002007-10-15T11:03:44.694-07:00<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:arial;">no centro dos meus olhos<br /> o mundo girava<br /><br /> nesta época<br /> as mangueiras davam flores<br /> Tânia Mara passava<br /> carregando seus cadernos<br /> como se carregasse<br /> os segredos dos homens<br /><br /> bem na frente de casa<br /><br /> o mundo girava<br /> girava a escola<br /> o pão mofado na merendeira<br /> o rio preso no mapa<br /><br /> bem no meio da tarde<br /><br /> nesta época<br /> morrer era um mistério<br /> meu avô erguia a bengala<br /> apontava para o horizonte<br /> e dizia que lá<br /> - depois do fim -<br /> nascia livre e límpida<br /> uma cordilheira<br /></span></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8647480187234015511-5867327278883613443?l=ocmas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Otávio Afonsohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01530042462658800136noreply@blogger.com1