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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIBQXo_eSp7ImA9WhdWE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779</id><updated>2011-09-06T07:49:10.441-07:00</updated><category term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 1" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no." /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 37" /><category term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 3" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 32" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 47" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 41" /><category term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 5" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 35" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 45" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 33" /><category term="poema-reportagem no. 31" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 38" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 19" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 43" /><category term="Tradução Enrique Lihn" /><category term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 2" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 36" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 48" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 40" /><category term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 6" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 34" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 46" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 44" /><category term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 4" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 39" /><category term="Poema-Reportagem no. 42" /><title>ESCREVO AO VIVO (poemas-reportagem podcasting videocasting egocasting)</title><subtitle type="html">Escrevo Ao Vivo é um blog literário onde o autor Anízio Vianna publica seus poemas-reportagem. O poema-reportagem, como o nome indica, é um poema baseado numa notícia retirada dos meios de comunicação ou de experiências pessoais do autor.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/EscrevoAoVivo" /><feedburner:info uri="escrevoaovivo" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8FRXc5eyp7ImA9Wx9SGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-2015470654357495920</id><published>2010-12-09T09:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T09:46:54.923-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-09T09:46:54.923-08:00</app:edited><title>REDIRECIONANDO PARA NOVO ENDEREÇO WWW.ESCREVOAOVIVO.COM</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-2015470654357495920?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2015470654357495920?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2015470654357495920?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/qoi6kL_bEmA/redirecionando-para-novo-endereco.html" title="REDIRECIONANDO PARA NOVO ENDEREÇO WWW.ESCREVOAOVIVO.COM" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2010/12/redirecionando-para-novo-endereco.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMESXw6eyp7ImA9WxRTE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-2759429940273095657</id><published>2008-09-02T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T09:20:08.213-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-09-02T09:20:08.213-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no." /><title /><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ssd.noaa.gov/goes/flt/t1/loop-vis.html"&gt;VEJA O FURACÃO AQUI&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;archam&lt;/span&gt; sob o medo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;é bíblico&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a esmo marcham&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;quase engolidos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a seco&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;pelo redemoinho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;em grande escala&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2 milhões fogem do furacão Gustav.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;O furacão Gustav chegou ao litoral do Estado americano da Louisiana e atingiu a região de New Orleans com ventos de 175 km/h. &lt;a href="http://www.apolo11.com/notasenoticias.php?posic=dat_20080901-171136.inc"&gt;Leia mais&lt;/a&gt;... Fonte: Apolo 11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-2759429940273095657?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2759429940273095657?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2759429940273095657?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/HCgLGjdKD70/m-archam-sob-o-medo-bblico-esmo-marcham.html" title="" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/09/m-archam-sob-o-medo-bblico-esmo-marcham.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcBQX07fSp7ImA9WxdaFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-4667800697876750181</id><published>2008-08-22T08:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T08:47:30.305-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-22T08:47:30.305-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 6" /><title>para Maurren e Sophia (ouro no salto)</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SK7eeAMLYFI/AAAAAAAAANk/-2GumchcvzA/s1600-h/maurrenpb.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237368023706984530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SK7eeAMLYFI/AAAAAAAAANk/-2GumchcvzA/s200/maurrenpb.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; criança desmonta &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a lógica do adulto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a criança tem uma força... não!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;uma mágica... não!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;astúcia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;S&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ete metros e quatro centímetros&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a melhor marca&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;mas a menininha queria&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(e como queria)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a medalha de prata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Por um centímetro Maurren é ouro no salto em distância. &lt;a href="http://esportes.terra.com.br/pequim2008/interna/0,,OI3124824-EI10378,00-Por+um+centimetro+Maurren+leva+o+ouro+no+salto+em+distancia.html"&gt;Ler mais&lt;/a&gt;.... Fonte: Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-4667800697876750181?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4667800697876750181?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4667800697876750181?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/5ciBbU5AV88/para-maurren-e-sophia-ouro-no-salto.html" title="para Maurren e Sophia (ouro no salto)" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SK7eeAMLYFI/AAAAAAAAANk/-2GumchcvzA/s72-c/maurrenpb.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/para-maurren-e-sophia-ouro-no-salto.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QNSXo4fSp7ImA9WxdaEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-340086635869545275</id><published>2008-08-18T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T16:43:18.435-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-19T16:43:18.435-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 5" /><title>Para Fabiana Murier (problemas no salto com vara)</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKm8OuzIOWI/AAAAAAAAANU/5c27I3DsQhw/s1600-h/murer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235923003061582178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKm8OuzIOWI/AAAAAAAAANU/5c27I3DsQhw/s200/murer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-size:180%;" &gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;roponho vermos o humano no atleta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;não suas marcas, metas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-size:180%;" &gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;roponho um olhar sem pressa&lt;br /&gt;incerto&lt;br /&gt;como todo resultado do esforço&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-size:180%;" &gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;roponho lentidão nas pernas,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;rezas, honrarias&lt;br /&gt;o embate humano é com a vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-size:180%;" &gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;roponho, mais que tudo,&lt;br /&gt;nem a chegada nem a saída {...}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ei que &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;quele espaço equivocado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;n&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;o qual se alastra inevitável uma paixão&lt;br /&gt;nos dará guarida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,0,0); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-size:180%;" &gt;Q&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;uem ama não se arrepende&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Uma fatalidade&lt;/span&gt; - O técnico Élson Souza considerou uma "fatalidade" o que aconteceu com Fabiana Murer nesta segunda-feira, em Pequim. A brasileira ficou sem uma de suas varas durante a competição, tentou improvisar e acabou não avançando na prova olímpica do salto com vara.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,102)"&gt; &lt;a href="http://esportes.terra.com.br/pequim2008/interna/0,,OI3108980-EI10378,00-Foi+uma+fatalidade+um+erro+brutal+diz+tecnico+de+Fabiana.html"&gt;Ler mais&lt;/a&gt;... Fonte: Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-340086635869545275?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/340086635869545275?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/340086635869545275?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/-fuHVEPLZkk/para-fernanda-murier-problemas-no-salto.html" title="Para Fabiana Murier (problemas no salto com vara)" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKm8OuzIOWI/AAAAAAAAANU/5c27I3DsQhw/s72-c/murer.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/para-fernanda-murier-problemas-no-salto.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4AQ3c_eCp7ImA9WxdbFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-4553527646595766139</id><published>2008-08-13T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T17:15:42.940-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-13T17:15:42.940-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 4" /><title>sobre perdas e danos (o judô do Brasil)</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKN4LX99ZOI/AAAAAAAAANE/W_mkGMwsMvc/s1600-h/jud%C3%B5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKN4LX99ZOI/AAAAAAAAANE/W_mkGMwsMvc/s200/jud%C3%B5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234159328742434018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;AFP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;"j&lt;/span&gt;á é uma vitória chegar até aqui"&lt;br /&gt;dizem todos entre lágrimas&lt;br /&gt;e entre lágrimas ficam&lt;br /&gt;estirados no tatami&lt;br /&gt;anos e anos desfeitos&lt;br /&gt;em implacáveis segundos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eduardo Santos perde na repescagem, e judô termina o dia sem medalhas&lt;/span&gt; -13 de agosto de 2008 - 08:26 - PEQUIM (Redação) - Após a conquista de três medalhas de bronze nos dois últimos dias de competição, o Brasil não conseguiu manter sua média e termina a quarta-feira sem pódios em Pequim. O médio Eduardo Santos perdeu do suíço Sergei Aschwaden por decisão dos árbitros, na final da tábua B repescagem, e não vai disputar a medalha de bronze.Faixa marrom até o ano passado, Eduardo Santos disputou sua primeira Olimpíada, e surpreendeu quem ainda não o conhecia ao conseguir duas boas vitórias por ippon nos dois primeiros combates. Porém, perdeu também por ippon nas quartas-de-final para o francês Yves-Matthieu Dafreville.A luta contra o suíço foi truncada, sem qualquer pontuação no tempo normal. Na prorrogação, o brasileiro chegou a levar uma punição por shido, anulada pelos árbitros de mesa. Com poucos segundos para o final da luta, Eduardo partiu para o ataque, mas não obteve sucesso. Na decisão por bandeiras, a branca, cor do quimono do suíço, foi levantada pelos três árbitros.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Fonte&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt;Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-4553527646595766139?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4553527646595766139?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4553527646595766139?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/FK7Ss6U-dwg/sobre-perdas-e-danos-o-jud-do-brasil.html" title="sobre perdas e danos (o judô do Brasil)" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKN4LX99ZOI/AAAAAAAAANE/W_mkGMwsMvc/s72-c/jud%C3%B5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/sobre-perdas-e-danos-o-jud-do-brasil.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQAQXY8fip7ImA9WxdbFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-4301934494950856293</id><published>2008-08-11T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T07:52:20.876-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-11T07:52:20.876-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 3" /><title>Um país chamado Georgia</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKBOWjKol7I/AAAAAAAAAM0/UQMouag7tyk/s1600-h/mapageorgia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233268916308449202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKBOWjKol7I/AAAAAAAAAM0/UQMouag7tyk/s200/mapageorgia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;U&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;m país chamado Georgia&lt;br /&gt;e o mundo pouco se lixando&lt;br /&gt;com as bombas que caem no colo&lt;br /&gt;de crianças&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tropas russas invadem Geórgia&lt;/strong&gt; - Governo georgiano bombardeia Ossétia do Sul e mata mais de 1.400 pessoas, segundo o líder da região Tskhinvali. As forças de paz russas e as ´unidades militares georgianas´ realizam ´combates intensos´ na noite de ontem - hora local - ao sul da capital da Ossétia do Sul, Tskhinvali, anunciou o comando das forças russas.´Nossas forças de paz estão participando de combates ferozes com unidades do exército georgiano nos subúrbios do sul de Tskhivali´, afirmou um oficial das forças russas mobilizadas na região separatista georgiana da Ossétia do Sul - um enclave apoiado por Moscou.No total, 12 soldados das forças de paz russas morreram e 150 foram feridos por tiros georgianos ontem em Tskhinvali, de acordo com um porta-voz do comando das forças. Segundo o presidente do território separatista da Geórgia, Eduard Kokoiti, a ofensiva georgiana deixou 1.400 mortos na Ossétia do Sul. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://diariodonordeste.globo.com/materia.asp?Codigo=562150"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Ler mais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;. Fonte: Diário do Nordeste&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Presidente da Geórgia mantem atletas nas Olimpíadas&lt;/strong&gt; - Os 35 atletas olímpicos da Geórgia estão acompanhando ansiosamente as notícias da ofensiva militar russa em seu país. "Estão todos nervosos", disse o porta-voz da equipe, Giorgi Tchanishvili. O governo da Geórgia decidiu manter os atletas nas Olimpíadas por enquanto, disse ele à Associated Press.Segundo o porta-voz, o presidente da Geórgia, Mikhail Saakshavili, enviou uma mensagem à equipe, afirmando que seria melhor para a Geórgia se os atletas continuassem nos jogos. Tchanishvili afirmou que eles estavam prontos para partir se isso fosse ajudar. A equipe da Geórgia está instalada a apenas alguns metros do delegação russa, que é muito maior, mas até agora não houve nenhum problema, disse o porta-voz. &lt;a href="http://www.atarde.com.br/mundo/noticia.jsf?id=931134#"&gt;Leia mais&lt;/a&gt;. Fonte: A tarde On-Line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-4301934494950856293?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4301934494950856293?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4301934494950856293?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/CY9l-uCrDpU/um-pas-chamado-georgia.html" title="Um país chamado Georgia" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKBOWjKol7I/AAAAAAAAAM0/UQMouag7tyk/s72-c/mapageorgia.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/um-pas-chamado-georgia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4DQXg5eip7ImA9WxdbFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-6743549600189891342</id><published>2008-08-11T05:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T05:16:10.622-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-11T05:16:10.622-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 2" /><title>lágrimas de Jade (ginástica feminina)</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKAtIFTjAfI/AAAAAAAAAMs/ukVcLf-7tvI/s1600-h/jade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKAtIFTjAfI/AAAAAAAAAMs/ukVcLf-7tvI/s200/jade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233232383890883058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Marcelo Pereira/Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e então as lágrimas de Jade&lt;br /&gt;30 horas de viagem&lt;br /&gt;“estamos aqui”&lt;br /&gt;diz a si mesma diante do cavalo&lt;br /&gt;no momento em que salta&lt;br /&gt;: no seu vôo a solidão do atleta&lt;/div&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lágrimas marcam o dia brasileiro em Pequim &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- Mesmo após cair na última apresentação, na trave, e chorar ao abraçar o técnico Oleg Ostapenko, Jade comemorou a classificação no individual por equipes, além de garantir presença também na decisão do salto. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" &gt;"Fico feliz de ter ido à final geral por equipes. É difícil treinar quatro anos e subir só uma vez em cada aparelho", destacou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt; Jade se classificou para a decisão do salto sobre o cavalo em sétimo lugar, com a nota 15,050, e para a final do individual geral, já que ficou entre as 24 melhores ginastas, contando todos os aparelhos. Somando todos os aparelhos, a ginasta chegou a 59,500 e terminou em 12º. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sob os aplausos de Diego Hypólito, que foi torcer pelas companheiras, a ginástica feminina brasileira conseguiu uma inédita vaga por equipes ao ficar em sétimo lugar no final de todos os aparelhos.&lt;a href="http://esportes.terra.com.br/pequim2008/interna/0,,OI3074465-EI10378,00.html"&gt; Ler mai&lt;/a&gt;s... Fonte: Terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-6743549600189891342?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6743549600189891342?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6743549600189891342?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/-v9fYbHwyV0/lgrimas-de-jade-ginstica-feminina.html" title="lágrimas de Jade (ginástica feminina)" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SKAtIFTjAfI/AAAAAAAAAMs/ukVcLf-7tvI/s72-c/jade.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/lgrimas-de-jade-ginstica-feminina.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcDSH0-cSp7ImA9WxdbFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-2505890287775020530</id><published>2008-08-10T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T05:17:59.359-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-11T05:17:59.359-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="série Olimpíadas - poema-reportagem no. 1" /><title>a harmonia (abertura das olimpíadas 2008)</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GcTO7QuTw9Q&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GcTO7QuTw9Q&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;T&lt;/span&gt;ambores são tocados &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;a festa começa no corpo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;gestos milimetricamente arquitetados: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;não são homens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;M&lt;/span&gt;áquinas computadorizadas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;anjos de asas rasgadas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;trucagens analógicas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Não importa: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;pólvora deixou pegadas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;no céu de Pequim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;a harmonia foi impressa no perga-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;minho... 55 etnias se fizeram presentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;bertos os jogos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;RIO - A cerimônia de abertura das Olimpíadas 2008, no Estádio Olímpico de Pequim, o Ninho do Pássaro, impressionou pela beleza e pela perfeição das coreografias e do ritual. &lt;a href="http://oglobo.globo.com/esportes/olimpiadas2008/mat/2008/08/08/cerimonia_de_abertura_das_olimpiadas_de_pequim_show_de_luzes_efeitos-547637093.asp"&gt;Ler mais&lt;/a&gt;... Fonte: O Globo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-2505890287775020530?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2505890287775020530?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2505890287775020530?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/NcoEadZAFn8/harmonia.html" title="a harmonia (abertura das olimpíadas 2008)" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/harmonia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYDSHs5eyp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-1689326360815212725</id><published>2008-08-03T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:39.523-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:39.523-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 48" /><title>"Chat" - as pessoas mentem pela internet</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SJbop9F4rgI/AAAAAAAAAMk/-HUOe2u2Etc/s1600-h/chat.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230623824708939266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="224" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SJbop9F4rgI/AAAAAAAAAMk/-HUOe2u2Etc/s200/chat.gif" width="191" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;oração bom quase não bate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom não tem tic-tac&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom quase que quase não bate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom é a inútil mensagem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom não tem novidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;bom se faz ou se nasce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;oração bom não escolhe o sujeito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom se aprende no erro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom nos surpreende&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;com seu peso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;oração bom se faz da igualdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom só tem claridade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom dilata late no peito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;com jeito &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;oração bom não é armadura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom não se esconde da lua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;coração bom é a face mais simples&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;luz da pessoa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Pesquisa diz que maioria mente nos perfis em sites de namoro virtual&lt;/span&gt; - Um levantamento realizado por pesquisadores norte-americanos concluiu que 81% das pessoas que buscam parceiros em websites de namoros virtuais mentem sobre suas características.A pesquisa acompanhou 80 participantes que procuravam sua cara-metade na Internet, e comparou as suas características reais com as que elas declaravam aos seus possíveis pretendentes online.O estudo observou que os homens mentem mais sobre sua altura, enquanto as mulheres preferem mentir sobre seu peso. Fonte: BBC.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-1689326360815212725?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/1689326360815212725?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/1689326360815212725?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/NxhTUOb2JwA/poema-em-ebulio.html" title="&quot;Chat&quot; - as pessoas mentem pela internet" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SJbop9F4rgI/AAAAAAAAAMk/-HUOe2u2Etc/s72-c/chat.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/08/poema-em-ebulio.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYDSHk9eyp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-6587949219674688715</id><published>2008-07-25T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:39.763-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:39.763-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 47" /><title>seleção de vólei perde</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SIz2aoBEx5I/AAAAAAAAAMc/A6aAUAEv1CA/s1600-h/selecaovolei.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227824204749260690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SIz2aoBEx5I/AAAAAAAAAMc/A6aAUAEv1CA/s200/selecaovolei.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a ef="http://www.terra.com.br/"&gt;http://www.terra.com.br/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;os que desejarem seguir viagem tomem seus assentos&lt;br /&gt;e que renasçam seus olhos do condimento da fumaça&lt;br /&gt;que fabrica as fábricas e os homens mecânicos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;doro lugares de passagem:&lt;br /&gt;aeroportos,&lt;br /&gt;rodoviárias,&lt;br /&gt;estações de metrô&lt;br /&gt;aos que desejarem seguir viagem&lt;br /&gt;não se intimidem nem se encoragem&lt;br /&gt;tomem seus assentos sem a certeza do amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt; próxima parada será confusa e alegre também&lt;br /&gt;siga o fluxo das pessoas&lt;br /&gt;alguém deve saber qual ônibus terminará&lt;br /&gt;o seu destino rumo ao trabalho&lt;br /&gt;quiçá a saída ou outro itinerário&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[mas com muita sorte, um dia,&lt;br /&gt;no jorro de pessoas vomitadas pelo vagão&lt;br /&gt;a gente irá se perder]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;o trem não &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;hr style="WIDTH: 681px"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Brasil perde bronze e volta a decepcionar - &lt;/span&gt;Domingo, 27 de julho de 2008, 11h34 Atualizada às 11h51 - Na despedida da Liga Mundial de vôlei, já que perdeu para os Estados Unidos na semifinal, a Seleção Brasileira masculina decepcionou mais uma vez a torcida no Maracanãzinho, no Rio de Janeiro, e foi derrotado pela Rússia.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-6587949219674688715?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6587949219674688715?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6587949219674688715?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/BNvX79iD0sE/poema-em-ebulio.html" title="seleção de vólei perde" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SIz2aoBEx5I/AAAAAAAAAMc/A6aAUAEv1CA/s72-c/selecaovolei.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/07/poema-em-ebulio.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYDSHc7fip7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-6010970242570698493</id><published>2008-07-10T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:39.906-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:39.906-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 46" /><title>Para Ingrid</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SHdrTzhC_vI/AAAAAAAAAMM/wmUFWwlIloE/s1600-h/ingrid-betancourt.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221760280949882610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SHdrTzhC_vI/AAAAAAAAAMM/wmUFWwlIloE/s200/ingrid-betancourt.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;current.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt; selva desaparece gente.&lt;br /&gt;Muitos motivos para ter medo.&lt;br /&gt;E a dor (inenarrável)&lt;br /&gt;fez um pássaro doar o próprio canto&lt;br /&gt;aos prisioneiros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Í&lt;/span&gt;ngremes soldados ao redor de Ingrid.&lt;br /&gt;Seres humanos moldados por uma voz que comanda o tempo:&lt;br /&gt;a noite, o dia só acontecem entre os arvoredos&lt;br /&gt;quando tiros, alguém em fuga&lt;br /&gt;ou helicópteros vasculham a esmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;U&lt;/span&gt;ma farda farta, sem arpa,&lt;br /&gt;Árdua, famélica, farrapa,&lt;br /&gt;Cerceava, dava coices,&lt;br /&gt;coisificava o sorriso e a voz serena de Ingrid&lt;br /&gt;que da cela aguardava liberdade perpétua. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;libertada Ingrid Betancourt &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;- várias &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.google.com.br/search?hl=pt-BR&amp;amp;q=libertada+ingrid+betancourt&amp;amp;btnG=Pesquisar&amp;amp;meta="&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;fontes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-6010970242570698493?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6010970242570698493?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6010970242570698493?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/pEHsJJ-O_PI/selva-desaparece-gente.html" title="Para Ingrid" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SHdrTzhC_vI/AAAAAAAAAMM/wmUFWwlIloE/s72-c/ingrid-betancourt.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/07/selva-desaparece-gente.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQX48cCp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-3635875454743895675</id><published>2008-06-12T05:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:40.078-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:40.078-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 45" /><title>Preso-Presa</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="20" width="155" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3="&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210978007024616754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SFEc43ETRTI/AAAAAAAAALA/xnX1-JuFsg0/s200/namoradeira.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ubiraci Alves de Freitas, "&lt;em&gt;namoradeiras&lt;/em&gt;" em cerâmica, 2000 (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;www.iadb.org&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;reso ao tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;preso há algum tempo&lt;br /&gt;preso no inox inexorável de grades do tempo&lt;br /&gt;na ferrugem do abraço me alumínio e penso&lt;br /&gt;quão intensa é a veia líqüida que me sustenta&lt;br /&gt;no espaço-tempo&lt;br /&gt;e me enamoro&lt;br /&gt;e mesmo com toda tecnologia&lt;br /&gt;ainda seus olhos &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;geografia o vocabulário&lt;br /&gt;os cacoetes de alguém enamorado&lt;br /&gt;não mudam com o tempo&lt;br /&gt;cintilam novidades ao redor do homem&lt;br /&gt;que reinventa a roda&lt;br /&gt;e sabe que o coração&lt;br /&gt;nunca foi mas é&lt;br /&gt;o centro da resposta&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-3635875454743895675?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/3635875454743895675?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/3635875454743895675?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/T0kb8WS6O9w/preso-presa.html" title="Preso-Presa" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/SFEc43ETRTI/AAAAAAAAALA/xnX1-JuFsg0/s72-c/namoradeira.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/06/preso-presa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQXw-fip7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-410276449470679923</id><published>2008-03-27T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:40.256-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:40.256-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 44" /><title>Sobre tapiocas, cartões corporativos e o povo lá fora</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/44_tapioca.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/44_tapioca.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R-unyRf-9rI/AAAAAAAAAKw/m_-XvMA1mnE/s1600-h/tapioca.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182420278352737970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R-unyRf-9rI/AAAAAAAAAKw/m_-XvMA1mnE/s200/tapioca.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Foto: Antonio Cruz/ABR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; nobre deputado oferece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;sorvete de tapioca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;à gente séria &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;que do Congresso nos ignora &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; ministro e sua imunidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;arrotaram palavras sobre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;preconceito, nordeste &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e o povo lá fora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; senadora desatenta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;chupa o sorvete &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;como quem chupa o sangue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e o som das cigarras &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;D&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;a raiz que nasce da terra&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a plebe ignorada fez iguarias&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;para nutrir a própria fome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;e a dos seus representantes &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; raiz nasce da terra&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a farinha da cultura&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a tapioca nasce da gula&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;cartões corporativos? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;da voracidade humana &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PROVOCAÇÃO - DEPUTADO DEMOCRATA OFERECE SORVETE DE TAPIOCA A COLEGAS&lt;/strong&gt; - Em meio ao intenso debate na CPMI dos cartões, o deputado Vic Pires Franco (DEM-PA) fez uma brincadeira com os colegas distribuindo sorvetes de tapioca para todos os integrantes da comissão mista. A “maldade” de Vic não foi compreendida por alguns integrantes da base. O relator, deputado Luiz Sérgio (PT-RJ), comeu o sorvete que chegou às suas mãos sem fazer comentários, e a líder do PT no Senado, Ideli Salvatti (PT-SC) perguntou a Vic, em tom de ironia, se era para “esfriar os ânimos”. Com o sorvete nas mãos dos colegas, Vic perguntou se os parlamentares haviam gostado. Ele chegou a brincar que o sorvete era de tapioca por ser de sua terra. “É tapioca da boa”, garantiu o deputado paraense. A brincadeira com a tapioca diz respeito a uma compra do alimento feita pelo ministro dos Esportes, Orlando Silva, com cartão coporativo na cidade de Brasília. Na semana passada, o ministro da Controladoria-Geral da União (CGU), Jorge Hage, afirmou que o caso só teve repercussão por preconceito ao Nordeste. O deputado Sílvio Costa (PMN-PE) foi o primeiro a perceber a intenção de Vic e criticar a atitude do colega. “Não podemos aceitar menino de calça curta (em referência ao deputado Vic Pires Franco) trazendo tapioca para desmoralizar a CPMI”, reclamou.&lt;strong&gt; O TEMPO, 27/03/2008&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-410276449470679923?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/410276449470679923?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/410276449470679923?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/rxLToyRcbI8/sobre-tapiocas-cartes-corporativos-e-o.html" title="Sobre tapiocas, cartões corporativos e o povo lá fora" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R-unyRf-9rI/AAAAAAAAAKw/m_-XvMA1mnE/s72-c/tapioca.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/03/sobre-tapiocas-cartes-corporativos-e-o.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQXo5eyp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-5781293337339458446</id><published>2008-03-19T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:40.423-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:40.423-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 43" /><title>à Arthur C. Clarke</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/43_arthurcclarke.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/43_arthurcclarke.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179457285263947314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R-Eg9YF3djI/AAAAAAAAAKg/-347J5uG6UY/s200/arthurcclarke.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:50%;"&gt;WWW.OVATIONTV.COM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;o espaço a lágrima lagrimou&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;passos do homem na lua&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;e a imaginação estratosférica&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;explorar o mundo com uma dúvida,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;lupa, luvas cirúrgicas&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(para pegar Plutão)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;ou&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;azer da pena a ponte que leva o homem&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;a fingir, verso a verso,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;que somente na vida há ficção&lt;/p&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LITERATURA: MORREU ARTHUR C. CLARKE, UM DOS GRANDES MESTRES DA FICÇÃO CIENTÍFICA. &lt;/strong&gt;Washington, 19 Mar (Lusa) - O escritor inglês Arthur C. Clarke, falecido terça-feira aos 90 anos no Sri Lanka, era considerado um dos mestres da ficção científica, autor de obras que marcaram o género. Uma dessas obras, o conto "The Sentinel", de 1951, deu origem a um dos filmes-chave da ficção científica, "2001:Odisseia no espaço", realizado por Stanley Kubrick en 1968.Com esse filme, Kubrick conquistou um Óscar e teve mais de 10 nomeações para diversos prémios da cinematografia mundial. êxito foi tal que Clarke se viu de algum modo "forçado" a transformar o conto num romance, a que daria o título já consagrado pelo filme de Kubrick. &lt;strong&gt;Fonte&lt;/strong&gt;: Rádio e Televisão de Portugal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-5781293337339458446?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/5781293337339458446?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/5781293337339458446?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/bNCtAc_cWUY/arthur-c-clarke.html" title="à Arthur C. Clarke" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R-Eg9YF3djI/AAAAAAAAAKg/-347J5uG6UY/s72-c/arthurcclarke.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/03/arthur-c-clarke.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQXg6cCp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-1842196888448323264</id><published>2008-03-13T04:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:40.618-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:40.618-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 42" /><title>à Maurren Higa Maggi</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/42_maurrenmaggie.mp3&amp;amp;showtime=1" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/42_maurrenmaggie.mp3&amp;amp;showtime=1" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R9kS34F3dfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/toiQBq4paCI/s1600-h/maurrenpb.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177189997798192626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R9kS34F3dfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/toiQBq4paCI/s200/maurrenpb.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Agência Estado &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;table align="left"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;um pêndulo um arquipélago &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;seu corpo desenha no ar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;a gravidade suspensa em Winnipeg &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;porque Maurren é bela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;seu corpo desce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;como que quando (se ela o quisesse)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;fazer parar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;bicho de pelúcia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;o amor do público te levaria do pódio ao altar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;saltar é bruto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;Maurren levita &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;E chamam de atleta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;a bailarina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RESULTADO HISTÓRICO&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- A BRASILEIRA MAURREN MAGGI CONQUISTA A PRATA NO SALTA A DISTÂNCIA E ENTRA PARA A HISTÓRIA DO ATLETISMO BRASILEIRO&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; A brasileira Maurren Maggi conquistou, semana passada, um resultado histórico para o atletismo brasileiro ao conquistar a medalha de prata na prova do salto em distância no mundial indoor disputado em Valência, na Espanha. Maurren conseguiu atingir a marca de 6,89m, anotando um novo recorde sul-americano para a modalidade, sendo superada apenas pela portuguesa Naide Gomes, que ficou com a medalha de ouro com a marca de 7m. O bronze ficou com a russa Irina Simagina, que saltou 6,88m. Apesar da conquista da medalha de prata, Maurren mostrou- se desapontada com seu último salto, tendo que ser consolada por outra saltadora brasileira, a Keila Costa, que lhe abraçou ainda na pista. Das tribunas, o técnico Nélio Moura aplaudiu sua pupila, aprovando seu desempenho no Mundial. "Estou muito feliz com a prata, já chorei muito. Acho que daria para buscar o ouro, mas a prata foi muito boa. Para mim, esse resultado é perfeito, já que eu buscava uma medalha, qualquer que fosse", disse Maurren, depois da confirmação do resultado. O TEMPO, 13/03/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-1842196888448323264?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/1842196888448323264?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/1842196888448323264?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/2h9Qnjp3aXY/agncia-estado-maurren-higa-maggi-um.html" title="à Maurren Higa Maggi" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R9kS34F3dfI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/toiQBq4paCI/s72-c/maurrenpb.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/03/agncia-estado-maurren-higa-maggi-um.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQXk_eSp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-1357932186856250230</id><published>2008-01-06T06:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:40.741-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:40.741-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Tradução Enrique Lihn" /><title>Porque escrevi</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/00_porqueescribi.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/00_porqueescribi.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R8Ac4Jd1PrI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/7I0YE_lkY-E/s1600-h/lihn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170164123160624818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R8Ac4Jd1PrI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/7I0YE_lkY-E/s200/lihn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Agora quem sabe, num ano de calma, pense: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;a poesia me serviu para isso:&lt;br /&gt;não pude ser feliz, isso me foi negado,&lt;br /&gt;mas escrevi.&lt;br /&gt;Escrevi: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;fui a vítima da mendicância e o orgulho misturados&lt;br /&gt;e executei também alguns poucos leitores;&lt;br /&gt;estendi a mão a portas que nunca, nunca vi;&lt;br /&gt;uma garota caiu, noutro mundo, a meus pés.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mas escrevi: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;tive esta estranha certeza,&lt;br /&gt;a ilusão de ter o mundo entre as mãos&lt;br /&gt;— que ilusão mais perfeita! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;como um cristo barroco&lt;br /&gt;com toda sua crueldade desnecessária —&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Escrevi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;minha escritura foi como o capim&lt;br /&gt;em flores ázimas mas flores enfim,&lt;br /&gt;o pão de cada dia das terras áridas:&lt;br /&gt;um casco de espinhos e raízes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da vida bebi todas estas palavras&lt;br /&gt;como um menino ouropel, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;cascalhos junto ao rio:&lt;br /&gt;as coisas com uma magia, perfeitamente inúteis&lt;br /&gt;mas que sempre renovam seu encanto. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A espécie de loucura, que faz voar um idoso&lt;br /&gt;atrás das pombas imitando-as, deram-me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;no lugar de servir para alguma coisa.&lt;br /&gt;Condenei-me a escrever &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;até que todos duvidassem&lt;br /&gt;da minha existência real &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(dias da minha escritura, recanto do estrangeiro). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todos os que serviram e os que foram servidos&lt;br /&gt;digo que passarão porque escrevi.&lt;br /&gt;Fazê-lo significa trabalhar com a morte lado a lado, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;e roubar-lhe um punhado de segredos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Na sua origem o rio é um filete de água.&lt;br /&gt;— Ali, por um momento, ainda que, nessa altura —&lt;br /&gt;logo, ao final, um mar que ninguém vê&lt;br /&gt;e os que estão nele dando braçadas na vida. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque escrevi fui um ódio vergonhoso,&lt;br /&gt;mas o mar realmente faz parte da minha escritura:&lt;br /&gt;linha dos arrecifes onde um verso se espuma&lt;br /&gt;eu posso reiterar a poesia. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estive doente, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sem sombra de dúvidas&lt;br /&gt;e não apenas de insônia,&lt;br /&gt;também de idéias fixas que me fizeram ler&lt;br /&gt;com obscena atenção um punhado de psicólogos,&lt;br /&gt;mas escrevi e o crime foi menor,&lt;br /&gt;o paguei verso a verso até escrevê-lo,&lt;br /&gt;porque da palavra que se ajusta ao abismo&lt;br /&gt;surge um pouco de obscura inteligência&lt;br /&gt;e nessa luz muitos monstros não são aniquilados. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque escrevi &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;não estive na casa do carrasco&lt;br /&gt;nem me deixei levar pelo amor a Deus&lt;br /&gt;nem aceitei que homens fossem Deuses&lt;br /&gt;nem me desejei como um escriturário&lt;br /&gt;nem a pobreza me pareceu atroz&lt;br /&gt;nem o poder uma coisa desejável&lt;br /&gt;nem me lavei ou sujei as mãos&lt;br /&gt;nem foram virgens minhas melhores amigas&lt;br /&gt;nem tive como amigo um fariseu&lt;br /&gt;nem apesar da cólera&lt;br /&gt;quis arruinar o meu inimigo.&lt;br /&gt;Mas escrevi &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;e morro por minha conta e risco,&lt;br /&gt;porque escrevi &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;porque escrevi &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;estou vivo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-1357932186856250230?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/1357932186856250230?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/1357932186856250230?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/6y5L1Z628Ig/fbrica-do-poema.html" title="Porque escrevi" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R8Ac4Jd1PrI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/7I0YE_lkY-E/s72-c/lihn.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2008/01/fbrica-do-poema.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQXc6eip7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-925840446011411986</id><published>2007-12-31T13:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:40.912-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:40.912-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 19" /><title>O tempo será amor</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R4rCmERDy_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/hsMECQf5knU/s1600-h/ano_novo.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155146682715065330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R4rCmERDy_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/hsMECQf5knU/s200/ano_novo.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000000;"&gt;Sou correspondente do meu sonho:&lt;br /&gt;Escrevo ao vivo e com meu corpo.&lt;br /&gt;Daqui a pouco fogos de todo tipo&lt;br /&gt;e eu abraçando estranhos.&lt;br /&gt;À meia-noite o pensamento&lt;br /&gt;de que o tempo será amor daqui em diante.&lt;br /&gt;É a crença de fada que nos acomete e,&lt;br /&gt;mais uma vez, invade o humano.&lt;br /&gt;Escrevo ao vivo da sacada da praia,&lt;br /&gt;do baile, do corredor do hospital,&lt;br /&gt;da avenida tomada, do aeroporto, rodoviária&lt;br /&gt;sobre essa alegria de segundos&lt;br /&gt;que nos faz prometer (a nós mesmos)&lt;br /&gt;que nós serão desfeitos em nosso nome&lt;br /&gt;(ou de algum santo) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;em benefício próprio.&lt;br /&gt;Por via das dúvidas: sal grosso,&lt;br /&gt;banho de perfume, encomendei,&lt;br /&gt;sete ondas pulei, oferendas ao mar joguei.&lt;br /&gt;Por minha conta e risco Eu&lt;br /&gt;(correspondente de mim mesmo)&lt;br /&gt;acredito em mim.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#003300;"&gt;Resolvi reprisar este poema-reportagem publicado na virada 2005/2006. Ele ainda traduz as minhas impressões e sentimentos em relação a essa época festiva. Que venha 2008, tenho as armas de Jorge. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-925840446011411986?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/925840446011411986?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/925840446011411986?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/I5PoB2rI6Mo/o-tempo-ser-amor.html" title="O tempo será amor" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R4rCmERDy_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/hsMECQf5knU/s72-c/ano_novo.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/12/o-tempo-ser-amor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQH86fyp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-2907621198155631804</id><published>2007-12-24T03:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:41.117-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:41.117-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 41" /><title>Cidade dos Anjos</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2-ghURDy3I/AAAAAAAAAH4/olwlMqeNiMg/s1600-h/cidade-dos-anjos-poster01[1].jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147509393344154482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2-ghURDy3I/AAAAAAAAAH4/olwlMqeNiMg/s200/cidade-dos-anjos-poster01%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;fêmea&lt;br /&gt;digna dos céus&lt;br /&gt;signo de gêmeos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sou teu fêmur&lt;br /&gt;esqueleto&lt;br /&gt;nem todo corpo tem peso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nômade&lt;br /&gt;(mas posso ter&lt;br /&gt;nossa casa)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anjo&lt;br /&gt;(mas posso morar&lt;br /&gt;na terra)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando&lt;br /&gt;você quiser&lt;br /&gt;apareço&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;canto&lt;br /&gt;mas teu silêncio&lt;br /&gt;é correto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{perfume edênico&lt;br /&gt;na cidade você significa&lt;br /&gt;santa ou fê-nix}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mas nem todo homem compreende&lt;br /&gt;mulher&lt;br /&gt;mitologia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Natal, época de ver muitos filmes.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; Remake&lt;/em&gt; de Asas do Desejo (Win Wenders). Fez-me lembrar do poema do Leminski: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"podem ficar com a realidade/ esse baixo astral/ em que tudo entra pelo cano/ eu quero viver de verdade/ eu fico com o cinema americano."&lt;/em&gt; Vejam o original e a recriação&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-2907621198155631804?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2907621198155631804?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/2907621198155631804?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/wvN-efdKzf8/cidade-dos-anjos.html" title="Cidade dos Anjos" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2-ghURDy3I/AAAAAAAAAH4/olwlMqeNiMg/s72-c/cidade-dos-anjos-poster01%5B1%5D.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/12/cidade-dos-anjos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQH06eyp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-6423456955693541999</id><published>2007-12-17T02:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:41.313-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:41.313-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 40" /><title>100 anos de Oscar Niemeyer</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2ZVJ0RDy2I/AAAAAAAAAHw/m2GWM3iCUxo/s1600-h/oscar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144893251454749538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2ZVJ0RDy2I/AAAAAAAAAHw/m2GWM3iCUxo/s200/oscar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a class="credito" _extended="true"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Foto: RICARDO MORAES /ASSOCIATED PRESS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2ZRqkRDy1I/AAAAAAAAAHo/1-6bUH9jPJ4/s1600-h/Oscar-Niemeyer.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A mão que desenha &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;não desdenha o curso do carvão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a mão com suas curvas, rugas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;veias que descrevem ruas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A mão que desenha &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;modifica o concreto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;dobra o ferro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;comunga homem e paisagem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a comuna é a sua miragem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Está nua diante do tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;cada vez mais lúcida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a mesma mão que se usa para o adeus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;retraça o mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A mão que desenha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;ao som da bossa nova&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;não treme &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;nem tropeça &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;no papel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Deixa a senha aberta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a caixa aberta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a janela aberta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a porta aberta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;a casa enfim aberta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#000066;"&gt;para nós&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BEM DISPOSTO, NIEMEYER CHEGA AOS 100 ANOS&lt;/strong&gt; - Rio de Janeiro - Sempre ao lado de Vera sua esposa, e rodeado por filhos, netos, bisnetos, amigos, políticos e artistas. Foi assim que o arquiteto Oscar niemeyer comemorou ontem ( 15/12) 100 anos de vida que lhe deram reconhecimento mundial pela sua obra. Sem aparentar cansaço e sempre bem disposto diante de dezenas de máquinas fotográficas, microfones e gravadores da imprensa, Niemeyer ainda encontrou disposição para beber uma taça de espumante e fumar uma cigarrilha. E conversou por cerca de meia hora com os jornalistas presentes. "A vida é só um minuto. Devemos vivê-la da forma mais decente", disse Niemeyer, em entrevista na Casa das Canoas, construída por ele em 1951 e atualmente sede da Fundação Oscar Niemeyer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-6423456955693541999?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6423456955693541999?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6423456955693541999?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/7NoBBUy6NWA/100-anos-de-oscar-niemeyer.html" title="100 anos de Oscar Niemeyer" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R2ZVJ0RDy2I/AAAAAAAAAHw/m2GWM3iCUxo/s72-c/oscar.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/12/100-anos-de-oscar-niemeyer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQHo6fCp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-6980921076753850954</id><published>2007-12-10T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:41.414-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:41.414-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 39" /><title>The Police no Maracanã</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/aviso.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R10bdY7M9GI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Hj3r45d_T-w/s1600-h/sting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142296541247894626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R10bdY7M9GI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Hj3r45d_T-w/s200/sting.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Márcio Nunes/Photo Rio News&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R10ZLY7M9FI/AAAAAAAAAHY/YoVCoGownCo/s1600-h/portinari3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R10WtY7M9EI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/qH2-onLWhlo/s1600-h/CAODMBGL.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;tá vendo aquele cara com o seu instrumento?&lt;br /&gt;a sede que ele tem é a mesma que eu tenho&lt;br /&gt;a sede que ele tem é a de tocar seu instrumento&lt;br /&gt;só ou com muita gente para além da maldade&lt;br /&gt;tá vendo aquele cara com o seu instrumento?&lt;br /&gt;pá enxada giz caneta ferramenta de operário?&lt;br /&gt;aquele cara trabalhando pelo seu sustento?&lt;br /&gt;a sede que ele tem é a mesma que eu tenho&lt;br /&gt;a sede que ele tem é a de tocar a vida em frente&lt;br /&gt;só ou com muita gente para além da maldade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;tá vendo aquele cara procurando emprego?&lt;br /&gt;a sede que ele tem é a mesma que eu tenho&lt;br /&gt;e é o mesmo medo quando a sorte não veio&lt;br /&gt;e a sede e a fome e a raiva correndo nas veias&lt;br /&gt;é a vida que nos trata com tanto desleixo&lt;br /&gt;é quando sei que posso com o meu instrumento&lt;br /&gt;só ou com muita gente para além da maldade&lt;br /&gt;ir com sede ao pote pegar um pouco a metade&lt;br /&gt;a sede que a gente tem é a sede do peixe&lt;br /&gt;que ficou na rede que ficou na rede que ficou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Com clássicos, The Police faz show para 74 mil no Rio&lt;/strong&gt; - Sábado, 8 de dezembro de 2007, 23h29 - Após 25 anos longe dos palcos brasileiros, o The Police lotou o Maracanã, na noite deste sábado, e mostrou que ainda consegue empolgar multidões. Munidos dos sucessos de Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, De Do Do Do De Da Da Da e Don't Stand So Close To Me, o trio inglês tocou para 74 mil pessoas na maior apresentação de sua nova turnê mundial, que acontece por ocasião do 30º aniversário da fundação do grupo. A última vez que a banda se apresentou no País foi em 1982.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-6980921076753850954?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6980921076753850954?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/6980921076753850954?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/yFMyR6NA7y0/police-no-maracan.html" title="The Police no Maracanã" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R10bdY7M9GI/AAAAAAAAAHg/Hj3r45d_T-w/s72-c/sting.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/12/police-no-maracan.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQHs8eCp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-4385014411720317925</id><published>2007-12-02T18:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:41.570-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:41.570-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 38" /><title>A dor desta tarde</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/38_adordestatarde.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/38_adordestatarde.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R1NuKY7M9CI/AAAAAAAAAG4/QkVQCoi29kI/s1600-R/torcedor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139572724528378914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R1NuKY7M9CI/AAAAAAAAAG4/NoPSxWTt-xw/s200/torcedor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Nabor Goulart/Futura Press&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;o torcedor&lt;br /&gt;torce&lt;br /&gt;retorce&lt;br /&gt;distorce&lt;br /&gt;de sol a sol&lt;br /&gt;sofre&lt;br /&gt;acorda mais cedo&lt;br /&gt;e se contorce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#003300;"&gt;e se compraz e&lt;br /&gt;absorve&lt;br /&gt;chuva&lt;br /&gt;suor e&lt;br /&gt;cerveja&lt;br /&gt;mas hoje &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#003300;"&gt;há dor nesta tarde&lt;br /&gt;o dedo da derrota&lt;br /&gt;toca a ferida&lt;br /&gt;a fenda&lt;br /&gt;a fresta do orgulho&lt;br /&gt;de ser parte da torcida&lt;br /&gt;e nem&lt;br /&gt;mala preta&lt;br /&gt;(propina)&lt;br /&gt;nem prece&lt;br /&gt;ou simpatia&lt;br /&gt;nem gol perdido&lt;br /&gt;pênalti roubado&lt;br /&gt;nem árbitros&lt;br /&gt;honestos&lt;br /&gt;ou cartolagem&lt;br /&gt;anulam&lt;br /&gt;a dor desta tarde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CORINTHIANS EMPATA COM GRÊMIO E CAI PARA A SÉRIE B&lt;/strong&gt; - Tido com um dos clubes mais populares do Brasil, o Corinthians terá de disputar a Série B do ano que vem. Isso porque o empate por 1 a 1 diante do Grêmio, neste domingo, no Olímpico, não foi suficiente para manter a equipe alvinegra na elite do futebol brasileiro, já que o Goiás venceu o Inter em casa e o ultrapassou em número de pontos. Domingo, 2 de dezembro de 2007, 18h17 – &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://esportes.terra.com.br/futebol/brasileiro2007/interna/0,,OI2119292-EI8817,00.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;TERRA ESPORTES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-4385014411720317925?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4385014411720317925?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4385014411720317925?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/TG7BU-k3Xkc/dor-desta-tarde.html" title="A dor desta tarde" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/R1NuKY7M9CI/AAAAAAAAAG4/NoPSxWTt-xw/s72-c/torcedor.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/12/dor-desta-tarde.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAERXY_fCp7ImA9WxZVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-3279177075433695680</id><published>2007-11-25T16:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T08:51:44.844-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-21T08:51:44.844-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 37" /><title>Frida Kahlo nas ruas</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/37_Frida_Kahlo.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/37_Frida_Kahlo.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff106/aniziovianna/frida_kahlo_372x280.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="180" alt="" src="http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff106/aniziovianna/frida_kahlo_372x280.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;à &lt;em&gt;Frida Kahlo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Para os orientais a morte é o fato mais importante de nossas vidas. E elegem o branco simbologia do luto.&lt;br /&gt;E reservam aos enterros uma cerimônia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;mais alegre que sombria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Para os mexicanos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.institutotomieohtake.org.br/programacao/exposicoes/posada/posada.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;a morte é divertida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;E preparam o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.univision.com/content/content.jhtml?cid=4437"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;pão do morto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://sepiensa.org.mx/contenidos/2005/s_calaverita/calaquita_1.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;caveiras de açúcar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;para a festa do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.diademuertos.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;dia dos mortos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;No entanto, à maioria de nós &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;a morte é a morte para debaixo do tapete&lt;br /&gt;(e o medo a silencia). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Acalanto Frida Kahlo num 13 de julho,&lt;br /&gt;o dia em que ela deixou sua capa protetora, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;seu acervo e este planeta&lt;br /&gt;e foi ter com o imponderável encontro sem atalho.&lt;br /&gt;Já que a morte é inadiável alegoria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Escrevo sobre o nó dos seus dedos,&lt;br /&gt;em suas reentrâncias,&lt;br /&gt;no seu sexo mesmo, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;com largas pinceladas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Frida Kahlo viveu a vida desregrada &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;de forma metódica.&lt;br /&gt;Feminina.&lt;br /&gt;Comunista. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Surrealista ela e sua cadeira-de-rodas&lt;br /&gt;(que usava para reconfortar a dor).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Para &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/AndrÃ©_Breton"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;André Breton&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt; Frida era &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;uma “fita enfeitando uma bomba”.&lt;br /&gt;Para &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leon_TrÃ³tski"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Tróstsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt; sedutora, curiosa, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;amante e merecedora de livros.&lt;br /&gt;Para &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diego_Rivera"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Diego Rivera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt; a melhor parte de sua vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;e mural inacabado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Frida Kahlo. Alada. Calada. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.google.com.br/images?q=frida+kahlo&amp;amp;hl=pt-BR&amp;amp;pwst=1&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=images&amp;amp;ct=title"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Pintou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt; sua coluna aberta,&lt;br /&gt;o sol ébrio &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;e a solidão gigantesca.&lt;br /&gt;Abortos &amp;amp; descobertas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Os seus pés podres &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;a fizeram levitar para além dos quadros,&lt;br /&gt;dos quartos de hospital e seu jardim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#336666;"&gt;Sorveu a vida como poucos,&lt;br /&gt;de dentro de um casulo,&lt;br /&gt;acaso e absurdo de ser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24/11/2007 - 10h53 FALTA DE INVESTIMENTO PODE LEVAR MUSICAL SOBRE FRIDA ÀS RUAS&lt;/strong&gt; - da Efe, no México - Itatí Cantoral, estrela de um musical sobre a vida da pintora mexicana Frida Kahlo (1907-1954), disse nesta sexta-feira que a obra continuará sendo representada, apesar da fuga dos investidores, e, se necessário, será montada "na rua". "Frida, um Canto à Vida", estreou no fim de outubro na Cidade do México. Mas na noite de estréia sofreu uma falha de iluminação. Dias depois, foi anunciada a sua saída de cartaz. "Todos nós, técnicos e atores, pretendemos reapresentar a obra em qualquer lugar, até na rua, porque ensaiamos quatro meses e nos preparamos com muito amor", disse a atriz numa entrevista coletiva. Ela considerou "injusta" a saída dos investidores. Cantoral explicou que atores e técnicos decidiram continuar trabalhando sem salário. No entanto "isso é não foi suficiente, pois é preciso obter recursos para pagar o teatro, além do investimento em publicidade". "Frida, um canto à vida", é um musical composto e escrito pelo mexicano Marcos Lifshitz e produzido por Michael Berkman. São duas horas e meia de espetáculo, 15 cenários, 220 peças de vestuário, e um custo de US$ 1 milhão. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www1.folha.uol.com.br/folha/ilustrada/ult90u348284.shtml"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;FOLHA ILUSTRADA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-3279177075433695680?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/3279177075433695680?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/3279177075433695680?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/hUH0mKqDR6U/poema-reportagem-no_25.html" title="Frida Kahlo nas ruas" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/11/poema-reportagem-no_25.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYBSXs8eSp7ImA9WxZVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-4182351527227165297</id><published>2007-11-18T11:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T08:42:38.571-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-21T08:42:38.571-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 36" /><title>A língua de Hugo Chávez - Por qué no te callas? -</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/36_porque-no-te-callas.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/36_porque-no-te-callas.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:120;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1A2HvnhJGzw&amp;amp;rel=" width="425" height="355" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A língua de Hugo Chávez é ferina. A língua de Hugo Chávez é o espanhol (da América Latina). A língua de Hugo Chávez é um chicote que sai de uma boca caverna, de uma boca desbocada, de uma boca que não se lava, de uma boca indisciplinada, de uma bocarra. Para alguns boca de lobo, boca de louco de onde sai esgoto, mas que não se esgota no primeiro arroto. Boca que abocanha (sem razão) a perna anglosaxônica. A língua de Hugo Chávez é venezuelana. Mais marte que vênus, mais deus do que demo, mais forte que o medo. A língua de Hugo Chávez não soluciona a miséria campesina. A língua de Hugo Chávez é cínica. Ele fala para si mesmo como quem busca aplauso do espelho. Como quem ofusca a realeza com tapinhas nas costas dos pobres. A língua de Hugo Chávez quer fazer história e ser mártir. (Mal sabe ele que o melhor do mito é sua humanidade, o seu agora. A língua de Hugo Chávez sua boca engole).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Fonte&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;a href="http://blogvecindad.com/el-rey-de-espana-y-hugo-chavez-por-que-no-te-callas/2007/11/11"&gt;Blog Vencidad &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-4182351527227165297?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4182351527227165297?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4182351527227165297?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/XXzKFXgM9tE/poema-reportagem-no.html" title="A língua de Hugo Chávez - Por qué no te callas? -" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/11/poema-reportagem-no.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8DQHozfSp7ImA9WxZVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-5403152520959852789</id><published>2007-11-10T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T08:37:51.485-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-21T08:37:51.485-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 35" /><title>New York Girl of my dreams ( o olhar na colisão levita)</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/35_the_girl_of_my_dreams.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/35_the_girl_of_my_dreams.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff106/aniziovianna/nydreams.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://nygirlofmydreams.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;http://nygirlofmydreams.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;para Ana Maria, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;the girl of my dreams&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#003300;"&gt;alma dela era um sopro&lt;br /&gt;eu vi e toquei&lt;br /&gt;— sem armadura — a alma dela &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333300;"&gt;metrô é sempre pressa&lt;br /&gt;e a garota apressada não notou&lt;br /&gt;que era minha partitura&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;N&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#003300;"&gt;oites confusas — talvez —&lt;br /&gt;risco sem cálculo — pensei—&lt;br /&gt;— “homem ao mar!” — gritaram por mim &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;metrô é embaixo da terra&lt;br /&gt;a alma dela um sopro&lt;br /&gt;muito próxima aos edifícios&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;garota — entrecortada por partidas —&lt;br /&gt;eu sem armadura...&lt;br /&gt;o olhar, na colisão, levita&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Parece até história de filme!&lt;/strong&gt; Patrick Molberg criou o site&lt;strong&gt; "NY Girl Of My Dreams"&lt;/strong&gt; para tentar encontrar uma menina que ele viu no metrô de NY. E por incrível que pareça o negócio deu certo e na ultima atualização do site ele informa que a encontrou! Uma amiga da moça reconheceu a descrição que ele fez no site escreveu pra ele e os colocou em contato! O final dessa história? se vai da certo? Não vamos saber, pois o moço disse que a história a partir dali é so deles e nós que inventemos nosso final.. como nos filmes e nas musicas haha então tá! Nem somos curiosos mesmo, somos!? A história ganhou grandes proporções porque até pra Tv ele deu entrevista! &lt;strong&gt;FONTE: entretantasbesteiras.blogspot.com&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-5403152520959852789?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/5403152520959852789?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/5403152520959852789?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/udBMCDP_cfM/new-york-girl-of-my-dreams-o-olhar-na.html" title="New York Girl of my dreams ( o olhar na colisão levita)" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/11/new-york-girl-of-my-dreams-o-olhar-na.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMQHc7eSp7ImA9WxRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5045374378051678779.post-4349557389009787327</id><published>2007-11-04T18:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T08:19:41.901-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T08:19:41.901-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poema-Reportagem no. 34" /><title>Poema Abutre ou o dia em que a morte de UM será tragédia</title><content type="html">&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/34_poema-abutre.mp3" width="155" height="20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.clubedoautor.com/PLAYER/dewplayer-mini.swf?mp3=http://www.clubedoautor.com/MP3/34_poema-abutre.mp3" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183077149783602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/Ry6E1UV1NjI/AAAAAAAAAGA/bf3g7_N6iJE/s200/capitaografismo.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:78%;"&gt;Wagner Moura como Capitão Nascimento&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;para o Capitão Nascimento&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;o céu da página&lt;br /&gt;este poema abutre&lt;br /&gt;este poema astuto&lt;br /&gt;a morte se faz necessária agora &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;o céu da morte&lt;br /&gt;este poema página&lt;br /&gt;este poema agora&lt;br /&gt;o astuto se faz necessário abutre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;o céu do poema&lt;br /&gt;esta página abutre&lt;br /&gt;esta página agora&lt;br /&gt;a morte se faz abutre astuto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt; poema se faz necessário agora&lt;br /&gt;esta morte astuta&lt;br /&gt;esta morte abutre&lt;br /&gt;no céu da página&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:90%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TROPA DE ELITE PODE BATER RECORDE DO ANO, FILME JÁ É O SEGUNDO MAIS VISTO NO PAÍS&lt;/strong&gt;. Depois de quase um mês em cartaz nos cinemas, Tropa de Elite acumula público de 1,6 milhão e mantém a liderança da lista dos mais vistos no País. O filme de José Padilha já faturou R$ 14,2 milhões e tem feito uma média de 70 mil espectadores por dia.Com isso, Tropa assume o segundo lugar entre os filmes nacionais mais vistos em 2007. A primeira posição ainda é de A Grande Família – O Filme, que atraiu cerca de 2 milhões de pessoas às salas de cinema durante seu período de exibição. Agência O Globo Rio de Janeiro, RJ, 03/11/2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5045374378051678779-4349557389009787327?l=escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4349557389009787327?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5045374378051678779/posts/default/4349557389009787327?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/EscrevoAoVivo/~3/jkZj-Uk7x4M/poema-abutre-ou-o-dia-em-que-morte-de.html" title="Poema Abutre ou o dia em que a morte de UM será tragédia" /><author><name>Adm</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2OEWyzzSEXE/Ry6E1UV1NjI/AAAAAAAAAGA/bf3g7_N6iJE/s72-c/capitaografismo.gif" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://escrevoaovivo.blogspot.com/2007/11/poema-abutre-ou-o-dia-em-que-morte-de.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

