tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post2185112856584541402..comments2023-11-02T08:12:11.373+00:00Comments on Bandida: Bandidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16547655021651677175noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-43268469179493987552009-02-26T12:29:00.000+00:002009-02-26T12:29:00.000+00:00eu também estou arrepiado, minha querida amiga.est...eu também estou arrepiado, minha querida amiga.<BR/><BR/>este olhar....<BR/><BR/>um grande abraço<BR/>jorge<BR/><BR/>porque se beija apenas com a boca e se abraça com o corpo todo.jorge vicentehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01787847176259279784noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-16847680449392158202009-02-17T20:25:00.000+00:002009-02-17T20:25:00.000+00:00...dolorosamente Maria.*...<BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/>dolorosamente Maria.<BR/><BR/>*A.https://www.blogger.com/profile/06771998441401679910noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-6898582136415231772009-02-17T19:13:00.000+00:002009-02-17T19:13:00.000+00:00o olhar, simultanemanete habitadopelo desalento e ...o olhar, simultanemanete habitado<BR/>pelo desalento e pela espera...<BR/><BR/> espaços sociais que excluem, que<BR/>colocam à margem...Estranhos são os paladinos do humano<BR/>com "madofianos" pés!...<BR/> Um beijo.Victor Oliveira Mateushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14466748847520595198noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-67707382366139159862009-02-17T13:39:00.000+00:002009-02-17T13:39:00.000+00:00Rosto onde a dor é um grito exilado nos próprios l...Rosto onde a dor é um grito exilado nos próprios lábios.<BR/>Um beijo.Graça Pireshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14798220892473509748noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-60905357717714173582009-02-16T23:11:00.000+00:002009-02-16T23:11:00.000+00:00estou toda arrepiada, maria...beijinhos e um abraç...estou toda arrepiada, maria...<BR/><BR/>beijinhos e um abraço.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-32478762555962331442009-02-16T21:26:00.000+00:002009-02-16T21:26:00.000+00:00Parabéns ...:))um Bj.milivParabéns ...<BR/><BR/><BR/>:))<BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/>um Bj.mil<BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/>ivIsabel Victorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14925437002467861825noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-70701142989861335292009-02-16T21:15:00.000+00:002009-02-16T21:15:00.000+00:00já vim aqui várias vezes...saio e volto...beijojá vim aqui várias vezes...<BR/><BR/>saio e volto...<BR/><BR/>beijoAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02424954286210936120noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-8450974569453559942009-02-16T21:06:00.000+00:002009-02-16T21:06:00.000+00:00(isso, arrepio)...um beijo *(isso, arrepio)<BR/><BR/><BR/>...<BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/>um beijo *intrusohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13621539699418880462noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-38681182468278956132009-02-16T20:32:00.000+00:002009-02-16T20:32:00.000+00:00e há um olhar que resiste ao sofrerBeijinhos.e há um olhar que resiste ao sofrer<BR/><BR/>Beijinhos.tchihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14742828668893546105noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-66175560283601391292009-02-16T18:59:00.000+00:002009-02-16T18:59:00.000+00:00arrepio-me.e saio.arrepio-me.<BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/>e saio.maria josé quintelahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02124797471304190391noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-22123052458954329612009-02-16T17:44:00.000+00:002009-02-16T17:44:00.000+00:00America I've given you all and now I'm not...America I've given you all and now I'm nothing. <BR/>America two dollars and twentyseven cents January <BR/>17, 1956. <BR/>I can't stand my own mind. <BR/>America when will we end the human war? <BR/>Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb. <BR/>I don't feel good don't bother me. <BR/>I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind. <BR/>America when will you be angelic? <BR/>When will you take off your clothes? <BR/>When will you look at yourself through the grave? <BR/>When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites? <BR/>America why are your libraries full of tears? <BR/>America when will you send your eggs to India? <BR/>I'm sick of your insane demands. <BR/>When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I <BR/>need with my good looks? <BR/>America after all it is you and I who are perfect not <BR/>the next world. <BR/>Your machinery is too much for me. <BR/>You made me want to be a saint. <BR/>There must be some other way to settle this argument. <BR/>Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back <BR/>it's sinister. <BR/>Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical <BR/>joke? <BR/>I'm trying to come to the point. <BR/>I refuse to give up my obsession. <BR/>America stop pushing I know what I'm doing. <BR/>America the plum blossoms are falling. <BR/>I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday <BR/>somebody goes on trial for murder. <BR/>America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies. <BR/>America I used to be a communist when I was a kid <BR/>I'm not sorry. <BR/>I smoke marijuana every chance I get. <BR/>I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses <BR/>in the closet. <BR/>When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid. <BR/>My mind is made up there's going to be trouble. <BR/>You should have seen me reading Marx. <BR/>My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right. <BR/>I won't say the Lord's Prayer. <BR/>I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations. <BR/>America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle <BR/>Max after he came over from Russia.<BR/><BR/>I'm addressing you. <BR/>Are you going to let your emotional life be run by <BR/>Time Magazine? <BR/>I'm obsessed by Time Magazine. <BR/>I read it every week. <BR/>Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner <BR/>candystore. <BR/>I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library. <BR/>It's always telling me about responsibility. Business-<BR/>men are serious. Movie producers are serious. <BR/>Everybody's serious but me. <BR/>It occurs to me that I am America. <BR/>I am talking to myself again. <BR/><BR/>Asia is rising against me. <BR/>I haven't got a chinaman's chance. <BR/>I'd better consider my national resources. <BR/>My national resources consist of two joints of <BR/>marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable <BR/>private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour <BR/>and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions. <BR/>I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of <BR/>underprivileged who live in my flowerpots <BR/>under the light of five hundred suns. <BR/>I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers <BR/>is the next to go. <BR/>My ambition is to be President despite the fact that <BR/>I'm a Catholic. <BR/>America how can I write a holy litany in your silly <BR/>mood? <BR/>I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as <BR/>individual as his automobiles more so they're <BR/>all different sexes. <BR/>America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 <BR/>down on your old strophe <BR/>America free Tom Mooney <BR/>America save the Spanish Loyalists <BR/>America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die <BR/>America I am the Scottsboro boys. <BR/>America when I was seven momma took me to Com-<BR/>munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a <BR/>handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the <BR/>speeches were free everybody was angelic and <BR/>sentimental about the workers it was all so sin-<BR/>cere you have no idea what a good thing the <BR/>party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand <BR/>old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me <BR/>cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody <BR/>must have been a spy. <BR/>America you don't really want to go to war. <BR/>America it's them bad Russians. <BR/>Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. <BR/>And them Russians. <BR/>The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power <BR/>mad. She wants to take our cars from out our <BR/>garages. <BR/>Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Readers' <BR/>Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. <BR/>Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta-<BR/>tions. <BR/>That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. <BR/>Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us <BR/>all work sixteen hours a day. Help. <BR/>America this is quite serious. <BR/>America this is the impression I get from looking in <BR/>the television set. <BR/>America is this correct? <BR/>I'd better get right down to the job. <BR/>It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes <BR/>in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and <BR/>psychopathic anyway. <BR/>America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel. <BR/><BR/>Berkeley, January 17, 1956 <BR/><BR/>Allen GinsbergBandidahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16547655021651677175noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-5599319822074214002009-02-16T12:47:00.000+00:002009-02-16T12:47:00.000+00:00Que rosto!Onde perpassa sofrimento e uma espécie d...Que rosto!<BR/>Onde perpassa sofrimento e uma espécie de serenidade... uma espera.<BR/><BR/>BeijosO'Sanjihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09413538294717536191noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34588111.post-27489554837983077602009-02-16T12:24:00.000+00:002009-02-16T12:24:00.000+00:00dear Dick, thank you very much for being a poet!a ...dear Dick, thank you very much for being a poet!<BR/><BR/><BR/>a big hug!<BR/><BR/><BR/>mariaBandidahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16547655021651677175noreply@blogger.com