<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2enclosuresfull.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" version="2.0"><channel><title>Croatt</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/</link><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Croatt" /><description>Sobre a vida, o Universo e tudo o mais. - ANO III</description><language>en</language><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</managingEditor><lastBuildDate>Sat, 26 May 2012 18:58:16 PDT</lastBuildDate><generator>Blogger http://www.blogger.com</generator><openSearch:totalResults xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/">429</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/">1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/">25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="croatt" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><itunes:owner><itunes:email>noreply@blogger.com</itunes:email></itunes:owner><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><itunes:subtitle>Sobre a vida, o Universo e tudo o mais. - ANO III</itunes:subtitle><feedburner:emailServiceId xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">Croatt</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><item><title>Sentimento Carmesim</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/sentimento-carmesim.html</link><category>poema</category><category>sentimento</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Sat, 26 May 2012 17:56:15 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-6508666901208436693</guid><description>Eu sei que você é assim,
Não basta apenas calcular,
Existem momentos que você aqui está,
E outros que não consigo nem imaginar.

No mesmo instante que parece o fim,
Tudo parece ter tanto sentido assim,
As coisas passam, os momentos se encontram,
A realidade, crua e nua, derrete os olhos da verdade brua,

Não sei mais o que pensar,
Às vezes, o que sinto falta é apenas de respirar,
Os poucos
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CH1KCpEGmDQ91mw5PSsvh9d1B88/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CH1KCpEGmDQ91mw5PSsvh9d1B88/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-26T21:56:15.009-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Desmatamento ZERO - Assine o Projeto de Lei Popular!</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/desmatamento-zero-assine-o-projeto-de.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Tue, 15 May 2012 09:20:07 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-6092463171688017428</guid><description>
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/756Nb7JOiEOtgQcl2znToDSRgwk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/756Nb7JOiEOtgQcl2znToDSRgwk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-15T13:20:07.311-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Sombra de Poema</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/sombra-de-poema.html</link><category>poema</category><category>eric felipe</category><category>sentimento</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Wed, 09 May 2012 18:24:54 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-1502684323764870591</guid><description>O que me vem ao lembrar seu rosto,
Não é uma imagem ou uma foto,
Quando me lembro de quem é,
O que vem à mim são sentimentos,
E bilhares de tormentos.

Queria não lembrar do seu rosto,
Mas lembro das ruas vazias,
Lembro das pedras no chão,
As poucas luzes da noite,
Algumas apenas no meu coração.

Vejo-me em teus olhos, perco-te em meus beijos,
Sinto o tempo passar em meus malucos desejos.

As
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HTs7ZEw4WX2KmraSO6wLbmbIs2M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HTs7ZEw4WX2KmraSO6wLbmbIs2M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-09T22:24:54.805-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Anoitecer</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/anoitecer.html</link><category>escuridão</category><category>mal</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Wed, 09 May 2012 18:17:52 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-8436031046058904017</guid><description>A verdade se esconde do frio, o gelo se apodera de minha alma,
O insosso e completo mal que aflora em meu peito, em noites escuras como essa,
Começa a me dominar.

Existem dias durante a noite, que parece haver tanto mal...
Tanto mal incontrolável e ilimitado,
Meu peito pede, pede por algo rápido e sutil, que o preencha por alguns segundos,
E quando se vá, leve a maior quantidade de vida que
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qrHRsqB6Xb-XERkc7TYLu4Z3iKA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qrHRsqB6Xb-XERkc7TYLu4Z3iKA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-09T22:17:52.794-03:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://i659.photobucket.com/albums/uu319/ericx120/Minha%20Doce%20SuperLua/th_IMGA0004.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Minha Doce Superlua</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/minha-doce-superlua.html</link><category>superlua</category><category>imagem</category><category>croatt</category><category>abstrato</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Sun, 06 May 2012 17:50:36 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-300257408271218284</guid><description>Link para todas as fotos: photobucket.com/superluabh
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mFZ5hIa8whz872B6bezZfQ-N2W0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mFZ5hIa8whz872B6bezZfQ-N2W0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mFZ5hIa8whz872B6bezZfQ-N2W0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mFZ5hIa8whz872B6bezZfQ-N2W0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-06T21:50:36.107-03:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://i659.photobucket.com/albums/uu319/ericx120/Minha%20Doce%20SuperLua/th_IMGA0004.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Calvin e Haroldo - Vida Inteligente</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/calvin-e-haroldo-vida-inteligente.html</link><category>haroldo</category><category>Tirinha</category><category>calvin</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Wed, 02 May 2012 19:12:10 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-1530068549786204862</guid><description>
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Rq_jFRMnYdvuQ11yT4owtdiQ4gE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Rq_jFRMnYdvuQ11yT4owtdiQ4gE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-01T16:20:10.082-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Abstrato #22 - Ella</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/05/abstrato-22-ella.html</link><category>imagem</category><category>irreal</category><category>abstrato</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Tue, 01 May 2012 12:18:08 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-7709814779557373523</guid><description>Imagem Grande (Muitos Detalhes) : Clique aqui
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HAc-KfPNNkfWk5mmoTuVXrrSNaY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HAc-KfPNNkfWk5mmoTuVXrrSNaY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-01T16:18:08.542-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Fim do Mundo</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/04/fim-do-mundo.html</link><category>poema</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Tue, 01 May 2012 12:35:51 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-6975076553604642220</guid><description>Tirinha do site: http://www.overdosehomeopatica.com

Acordei, era o fim do mundo. Voltei a dormir.
Senti uma pontada de desespero quando a realidade bateu à porta.
Porém, quando abri, descobri que ela havia vindo pedir esmola.

Senti saudades, de coisas que não vivi,
Chorei por coisas que jamais viveria,
O céu se encharcava de sangue enquanto meus olhos derretiam.

Pensei no que último havia
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-myqu0URLNHwD93X2qT6GSXX9Vc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-myqu0URLNHwD93X2qT6GSXX9Vc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-01T16:35:51.629-03:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lXFIWI_iaTI/TzrbA_mkPBI/AAAAAAAABTg/q4MXVG4cXgA/s72-c/tirinha%2Boverdose%2Bhomeopatica.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Vídeo: Adicione Drama</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/04/adicione-drama.html</link><category>video</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Thu, 26 Apr 2012 15:47:00 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-8461981947983405383</guid><description>
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p46NkclFum1z_ss5iYu8usw0lhY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p46NkclFum1z_ss5iYu8usw0lhY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p46NkclFum1z_ss5iYu8usw0lhY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p46NkclFum1z_ss5iYu8usw0lhY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-26T19:47:00.100-03:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/316AzLYfAzw/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Cenário de Dementes</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/04/cenario-de-dementes.html</link><category>poema</category><category>ideias</category><category>sentimentos</category><category>sentimento</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Wed, 25 Apr 2012 16:31:34 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-7266255003945914765</guid><description>A tentativa de traduzir palavras em sentimentos por vezes é frustrada. Todo mundo é capaz de dominar uma dor, exceto quem a sente.

Aqueles que mais se aproximam disso, se tornam poetas,
Ou pelo menos, ficam mais felizes por conseguir tornar palavras,
Aquilo que as névoas da dor ocultam.

É estranho sentir o vidro quebrado dentro do peito,
Mesmo que a doce ilusão de cada dia,
E as milhares de
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RjkBnKIUbSk0Z0WSvOdmH2qtaNQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RjkBnKIUbSk0Z0WSvOdmH2qtaNQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-25T21:20:59.298-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Lar, Doce Lar</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/04/lar-doce-lar.html</link><category>video</category><category>terra</category><category>croatt</category><category>nasa</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Mon, 23 Apr 2012 16:27:05 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-2827991416639511347</guid><description>
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_kBKeBARu134Psv5U3nQ-hY3o7Q/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_kBKeBARu134Psv5U3nQ-hY3o7Q/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-23T20:27:05.569-03:00</app:edited><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Destino</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/04/destino.html</link><category>quadrinhos</category><category>reflexao</category><category>imagem</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Sat, 21 Apr 2012 20:35:00 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-8373756970118445793</guid><description>Via: RyoTiras.com
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RKW5yuMY7H7oDF-mBo9osi1ykc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RKW5yuMY7H7oDF-mBo9osi1ykc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-22T00:35:00.550-03:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-6v2r6MZf8os/T5G9bG3f6rI/AAAAAAAAA5M/Ef_gjT7Iqqw/s72-c/2caras.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Rotina</title><link>http://croatt.blogue.me/2012/04/rotina.html</link><category>cronica</category><category>eric felipe</category><category>sentimentos</category><category>rotina</category><category>croatt</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Croatt)</author><pubDate>Thu, 19 Apr 2012 17:42:18 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8258639411016905043.post-7039326395031101748</guid><description>Acordei em um misto de frio com aquela sensação gostosa de quando você acorda entre os corbertores aquecidos com seu próprio calor. Me levantei e desliguei o alarme do celular. Ele tocava uma música do Oasis, chamada Champagne Supernova. Me dirigi à janela, e lá fora, enquanto a minha cidade acordava, vi a realidade tremulando com o despertar de várias vidas para mais uma vez mergulhar na rotina
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Segundo o Dr. Ron Wright, um patologista forense e ex-diretor médico de exames em Broward County Florida:


“Após sua cabeça ser cortada por uma guilhotina, você tem 13 segundos de consciência ( talvez mais ou menos 2 segundos de diferença). 13 segundos é o tempo em que a quantidade de fosfatos de alta
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Atravesso o espaço infinito entre o mundo em seus mais profundos e distantes horizontes: Minha alma.
Entro e saio por portas, portas infinitas, cuja torre que se ergue sem sequer previsão aos céus,
O chão é água pura e desconhecidamente profunda, tão profunda que o mínimo mergulho pode ser o último,
Portas sem escadas, escadas sem portas aos seus finais.

O único modo
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Os sorrisos que vi se tornarem lágrimas fizeram com que minhas doces verdades fossem alteradas,
E vi que acima de tudo, o pouco que resta para se juntar depois que um castelo de rocha dura,
Torna-se um pequeno punhado de areia, não é suficiente para construir um mundo.

Se meus olhos tocassem
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Em uma família de hoje em dia, a ordem de preferência é sempre uma coisa preocupante. As pessoas acabam se deixando levar tranquilamente, sem sequer notar, para essa ordem natural das coisas. Quando o filho mais velho nasce, ele naturalmente perde espaço para o mais novo, e consecutivamente, o filho que nasceu antes perde espaço para o que nasce depois, criando uma grande
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Dizem que a segunda vida é melhor do que a primeira se você for bom. Pena que para homens mortos, bondade não exista.

A ponte das espadas, a estrada que levava até a porta da morte, parecia cheia aquele dia. Tão cheia que senti o golpe forte no meu rosto com toda a vida que restava em mim.

- Erik! Acorde homem maldito! - Ouço Fábio gritando através do sol - Acorde
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Penetram na minha alma, ou pelo menos, o que resta dela.

Me levanto de meu canto entre duas paredes perpendiculares e olho através da janela.
Ela espera por mim lá fora. Consigo vê-la cada vez mais próxima: A escuridão cobrindo os horizontes.

Então a chuva começa a cair e me chama para sentir o que há de
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Aqueles que muito olham para os céus, ficam cegos ao olhar para a terra.

- Minha doce princesa, está em casa? - Eu disse ao chegar em casa, vinha do campo. Não ouvi resposta, mas continuei a entrar.
- Rainha da minha existência, está na cozinha? - Andei até a cozinha para ver se lá estava ela, porém não estava.

Andei pelos cômodos da casa, e não a encontrei em
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- Possui 23 cromossomos, sendo 22 pares de autossomos e um par de cromossomos sexuais XY.
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