Memories of the Absurd

Every Corner's Excerpt

2012-05-25T19:29:00.002+01:00

How dare you throw petty comments. You have nothing, for I seek no desire in feeble compliments that would make you blush momentarily as you pleasure those surrounding in a petty attempt to seek recognition. For purely existing. Your actions deserve only to be reprimanded. Your egotistical ways that show only the immaturity of your shallow ways. As you blow kisses, you conjure only for those receiving to feel disgust towards you. Go on. Continue to stock up contempt towards you, which is all i feel you'll ever accomplish. Meaningless words to give you that one second bliss you aim for. And just watch the hours fall over, as you awake in anonymity.

Welcome

2012-01-24T23:37:00.000+00:00

When ups and downs are constant u loose grip of past as it dilutes itself in every moment u live. For grasping the true reality of the word allows a welcome loss of the common definition of memory. There is no fear. There is no ecstasy. Only awe for all.

Letter to the Old

2011-10-22T20:11:00.003+01:00

A "letter" to help move on. To seek certainty that what is just... is and there's nothing that can be done. That things are as they are and we should live without having to think how the past will affect the future. It shouldn't matter. We all made choice,s now we should live up to them. I write this to say goodbye and hope you understand why we need to part ways. We were, but understand we cannot be any longer. All written is an opinion. It's not absolute truth, just my opinion. And at this point, nothing can be done to change that opinion. There should be no resentment, only acceptance.

Letter to the Old

Forgetting is useless when the past haunts you with the possibility of re occurrence. So i must write away the truth so logic can blissfully redeem what i believe so true. I find myself counting days for a new encounter that i erased and you seem wrongly right in ideals you so conveniently created to your hypocritical benefit. Words you throw at others without a true understanding of anything i thought i taught you. You distorted all words and only build up a hate towards (what you've always failed to understand) what i loved. My criticism towards a decadent society come from my love, my need to see them grow further. Emerge from all the bits of negativity i pin on each and every one. You wish wrong to all. You'd deny ruling for you find they do not deserve it. You'd rather erase them all and start all over with your irresponsible and ruthless guidance. But the mirror should have told you, you are not fit to judge. No one is. But that word follows you like the heavy frown you carry around. Judgemental and pessimistic lies that you justify with seemingly contradictive (for those without the proper insight) words you easily distort. And you cannot realize your own faults. For the lack of realization of where you were flawed and the impossibility of being told such (like when we so many times criticized the same in others) is what brought my pending decision to a certainty. You are no longer, we are no longer to be acquainted. The hipster, or pseudo-intellectual, we always criticized has grown to a point where it shrouds your understanding of the truth. That there is none. That one should accept one and all. We can say anything we want as long as we think of bettering ourselves and one another instead of rejecting and judging what we aren't fit to. Darkness grows. My arrogance comes from defending myself from others misguided actions. Yours comes from hate. And hate alone, for not accepting what is. I denied you not because of your cowardly fists that run from truth. For i do not care for injuries. Even ones caused from stupidity and denial to hear your place, your wrongs. But from the negligence to own up to that runaway punch and the idiotic need you found to create such an event. I no longer believe in growing with people. I believe only in distance and second intentions. For even at great cost and effort to me, all those who created meaning have abused that same meaning in some way. And the one who was taken in under my roof as a brother is the one who cannot face the fact of his faults and though he (you) say you do, your actions, your words to the air say otherwise. Hypocrisies of the never loved. Of he who rejects the present which was given through our past. I help your present, you destroyed our present. I choose now only to get along. And choose those who allow. Simply allow, without judgement and misperception. Who look for enjoyment and won't create irregular nights and days so often with unjustified violence and misdemeanors towards all those who come with me to where i go. And apologize without intention of keeping ones actions as a one time mistake. Who chose to repeat to exhaustion drunken disruption. And i got exhausted. Exhausted of being the only responsible one. Exhausted of making sure everyone got along. Exhausted of making sure everyone was happy when in return i got nothing but hate and hypocrisy repeated insistently until the doors of Spain. And there, once again, i, after i long ceased to care for you, followed my own wishes without guilt, and you just proved me right once again with childish egocentric behaviour. Not seeing things as they are because it just didn't please you to. Nobody understood and even the ball that would so easily role down mountains with anyone, concur one minute with you. Finding disruptive, irrational and primitive behaviour in the actions that never truly saw repent from the causer. You. So i write to tell you i left the past. For there, i only find sorrow, contempt and judgement. I write to tell you that i chose not to leave you but to only be around things that can actually make me, me. Why be around someone who seeks pleasure in your downfall and proving you wrong? You did what we'd criticized Many to do so often. I look not for people, but for those who care. You no longer did. So you see, my choice, was truly yours.

nccuco

(outros) 3 Fragmentos

2011-02-10T17:59:00.004+00:00

The lack of success brings great minds to fall under the veil of sorrow,

depression.

One's actions blurred into the incoherence of acceptance.

Not what we are any longer,

why are no more.
We do now, only to be seen, thought of.

Though no longer in the mind, the desire proceeds,

the longing does not forfit.

And you stay in this bottomless pit that is my heart.

My cold and hardend heart that bleeds nor breathes any longer

nccuco

Meu pais de esperança.

Apenas a ilusão de sensações

que se assumem nunca terem sido

num pais de distracção.

Onde o mar nem se aparece a si.

Onde encontrava a eternidade,

agora fragmentos de sonhos ancorados nesta praia

que se engole a si

para não enfrentar o medo de se perder.

Nunca se tenta encontrar.

Já n és o que foste.

Sinto a distancia que nos separa

como a imensidão que outrora representavas.

Temo já não te ter...

nccuco

Vem o gosto pela complexidade.

Que e’ sempre existente na novidade.

Na musica por ouvir e nos olhos por ver abrir.

Terras por conhecer e vinho por beber.

Sou um boémio de vidas por viver

e poeta de palavras por escrever.

Amo o amor e a compaixão

que vejo inexistente no homem.

Mas deambulo na esperança de um dia a encontrar.

Em ti talvez, cara desconhecida.

Para poder escorrer nesta, a verdade por fim.

Assim o desejo.

nccuco

Project: The Critic (Series)

2011-01-18T07:50:00.003+00:00

[My objective: Better, less cheesy, smarter version of Californication]

Premise: A cynical man in his early 30's wants to be known for his literature work but do to his fear of failure being greater then his thrive for success he only has a few unpublished short stories, poems he writes on a note pad and a lot of ideas. He remains at a content level, work wise, by having a column in a few magazines where he writes reviews of contemporary TV shows, movies and the latest albums in the indie music scene. The serie's action relies on his constant seek for recognition (or his anger towards society for not achieving it) and a constant dwelling over "true" love while he ventures through the city of Lisbon.

The main protagonist lives in Lisbon with a very close friend who has his own independent life, not having much interference in the character's (lets call him John) life besides joining him occasionally for drinks, mostly in the evening. Other characters will include a fellow writer and close friend that has achieved greater success, with published work but continues to have great respect for John, and even though he's happy for him, he's somewhat disappointed because he sees himself as a more talented writer. Their will also be a love interest that lingers through the show and other interests that will cause a conflict between love and lust. All actions of the character will be chosen with great reasoning as he ponders on the importance of love in modern society and even its meaning in ones life. This man never chooses to hurt people for his own benefit but in a conflict of situations and ideals someone always gets hurt and mistakes are always made.

During an episode we will have John narrate a critical column he is currently on of a show or movie he has just seen.
We will join his modest ventures through the nightlife of the metropolitan area of Lisbon as he interacts with people, men and more importantly women, and as he and his friends dwell on the day to day events, and life philosophies and beliefs of each. This will be sprinkled with situational humor and sarcasm. As in real life, things will go wrong more often then right. But no matter the arrogance he demonstrates towards others, he and his friends are always happy with whatever it is they achieve, though their hunger for greatness is never satisfied.
An episode will commonly end with the narration of a poem he is thinking of writing that recaps recent events or thoughts.

At the end of the first season, due to miscalculation of his economic situation and being fired from one of the magazines due to verbal hostility towards one of his commentators he has to get a job at a supermarket, arranged by one of his friends who manages a store.

I've come up with a lot more details that i refrain from posting at the moment. Just wanted to share this info with some.

I also have many other concepts for shows, movies, books and even video games that I'd like to one day share.

Thank you,
Nuno C.

A Travessia do Cabo

2011-01-13T22:06:00.000+00:00

O que me resta se não esta paisagem.

Esta vista que deslumbro de noite

e me cativa o sonho. Mas não suponho

que estarás ao meu lado para desfrutar

da imensidão do que deixastes para trás.

No fim só restaras tu,

oh mar de desejos por concretizar

e viagens por realizar.

És meu sonho

mas em ti só me encontro em pesadelos recorrentes

duma sociedade que se mostra incoerente

ao desejo que lhe tenho.

Ao prazer que lhe demonstro.

Mas este mar trás raiva.

Estas ondas ecoam gritos que fazem ensurdecer.

E aos teus pés perecer já sem alma,

só com esta gente que nunca o foi.

A calma já se foi.

Só resta a tempestade.

E sozinho luto,

já sem qualquer vontade de te fazer frente.

Oh lenta e tenebrosa sombra.

Não tenho vontade mais...

nccuco

Dusk

2011-01-13T22:00:00.000+00:00

Quando a escuridao nos assombra,

utilizaremos apenas o brilho de verdes prados

para nos lembrar que nao es se nao ausencia.

És noite. Faça-se luz.

nccuco

When darkness shades us,

we shall use the light of the green prairies

to remind us that u are not but absence.

You are gloom. Let there be light.

nccuco

Inconsistente; Rancor; Um Fim

2011-01-13T21:44:00.002+00:00

"Inconsistente"

A incorporação do imperfeito

na idealização dos meus actos perante um ser inacabado.

Um gosto tórrido por uma sensação inconsciente quebra o raciocínio,

controlando os meus braços em actos indesejáveis.

É a teoria do interior que se exterioriza nas alturas erradas.

Um monstro de noções barbaras.

Os talheres parecem ter mente própria

e a sanidade escapa-se por entre os abismos do garfo.

Tens controle sobre tudo.

O meu mundo moldou-se e sinto-me incapaz de o controlar.

Guia-lo longe de ti.

És a morte.

Num corpo corrupto pelo qual anseio

nccuco

"Rancor"

Quem es tu que ousas criticar minhas plavras?

Que palavras jorast tu no papel que possam ser comparadas?

E entao se nao chegar ao nivel do mestre?

Culminarei no meu auge.

Procuro ser apenas melhor do que fui

e que cada palavra que escrevo

seja melhor do que a que escrevi.

nccuco

"Um Fim"

O tempo passa

e a linha que nos une se torna imperceptível ao olho humano.

A concretização de actos fúteis cada vez se torna mais isso,

na idealização do que uma vez fomos.

Torna-se inútil lutar pela sombra dum passado inexistente.

Salve... Memorias enubladas de desejos por concretizar.

E jaz aqui teu sonho. Por fim.

nccuco

Saciar a Sociedade (satisfying society)

2011-01-13T21:28:00.001+00:00

No meu sorriso se transparece uma realidade de outrora.

Não sou o que fui.

Resta-me apenas um rancor

por uma sociedade corrupta que não me larga.

Desejo o carnal. Desejo satisfação!

Quando na altura precisa da felicidade

que não pode coexistir com o conhecimento, desejava o amor.

Agora possuir-te e corromper teu corpo.

Saciar minha vontade na curvatura da criação divina que sois.

Vos... Plural pois é pela multiplicidade da coisa que anseio.

Serás. Não, emendo.

Serão minhas as vontades que não vos foram escolhidas.

E uma a uma colho os frutos dos pecados que semearam.

Não merecem se não o meu toque frustrado

para que eu emende a pobreza,

a podridão que enxerguei no meu coração.

Desejo libertar-me do sentimento inexistente.

Para que a felicidade te caia sobre os braços

como um toque leve sucedido pelo meu suspiro no teu ouvido

que te diz calmamente, com minha mão sobre teu peito: és minha.

Foste minha. Agora e para sempre num passado... Longe.

Cheio de gente que me foi conhecida.

Agora resta nos a solidão amarga na liberdade doce do nosso reencontro.

nccuco

Satisfying Society

2011-01-13T21:09:00.001+00:00

[not that great in English]

In my smile transpires a reality from another time.

I am not what i once was.

All i have left is this rancor for a corupt society

That does not let me be.

I desire the flesh. I desire satisfaction!

When in the precision of my happiness,

that cannot coexiste with knoledge, i desired emotion.

Now, posses and corrupt your body.

Satisfy my will in the devine curvature that you are.

You. Plural. Because it is the multaplicity of things that i crave for.

You will be. No, I emend.

They will be mine,

The desires that you haven't chosen.

And one by one i pick the ripe fruits of the sins you've planted.

You do not deserve but my frustrated touch so i can fix the poverty,
the rotten that i have dipped my heart in.

I wish myself free from an inexisting feeling.

So that happiness can fall upon you
like a slight touch complemented by my calm wisper,

with my hand on your chest: your mine.

Were mine. Now and forever in a past... far away.

Full of ppl i once knew.

Now all we have is this bitter solitude

In the sweet freedom to reunit once again.

nccuco

What tomorrow will bring (PT)

2010-12-07T19:56:00.002+00:00

Criei este inferno no teu olhar. Uma fuga duma realidade na qual me encontro. E nela volto com o meu desaparecimento quando o tempo assim o diz conveniente. É relativo ao espaço. Quando lhe procuro, o espaço me aceita para me fazer retornar ao passado e voltar a querer sair do presente lugar onde me encontro.

Vejo-te mil vezes nos meus sonhos e em todos a tua face mais pálida do que no sitio anterior. Onde vivi e no desespero, te quis encontrar. Numa situação impraticável te falei e dos suspiros criei uma vontade de ter apenas o que não quero. Ir e voltar. Procuro apenas o que não sei. Quero apenas o desconhecido. Te criaste sem emoção. Morta ao toque duma marioneta cujas mãos e as palavras ocas anseias.

Volto ao teu olhar: Porque tantas faces. Porque tantos enigmas se és sempre a mesma. Falta-me a vontade de lutar pelo que é meu, então me desleixo na simplicidade do platónico. Pois é mais fácil não ter de enfrentar a verdade (que criaste, que obviamente criaste) do teu olhar.

Evito a repetição na constante procura do êxtase que és. Corpos nus, mãos cheias de dor que transmitem o sabor da vitoria do teu consumo (porque minto? Onde há vitoria num acto tão efémero? Na trivialidade de conseguir apenas aquilo pelo qual o esforço és nulo? Sou um hipócrita de acções egocêntricas. Vivo na contradição das minhas palavras para que a felicidade se mantenha sempre 'a distancia do meu braço. Para que eu me satisfaça ao conceber, ao realizar que nunca poderei obter o que me esta estampado 'a frente.. Magos e feiticeiros são a minha justificação para não dar um paço em frente. Assim não me poderei ver livre do meu objectivo. Pois não sou ninguém. Quem sou eu para dar o passo em frente se não me foi dado esse poder? Se deus me deixou paraplégico de sentimentos? Assim vivo, "feliz")

nccuco

3 pequenos fragmentos

2010-12-07T19:34:00.003+00:00

Vou quebrar as minhas regras

para definir as regras que desejo cumprir.

Uma vida de oportunidades desperdiçadas, disse ele.

A do esquecer como uma irrefutabilidade

para a concretização de se ser lembrado,

em sonhos angustiantes duma reminiscência distorcida

para se tornar um pesadelo recorrente do que se quer.

Quando nunca se teve estas mentiras nostálgicas

na qual me decido banhar.

Um dia te vou esquecer. Oh futuro.

Que me persegues e suspiras ao ouvido:

estou aqui, estou sempre aqui.

nccuco

Temo a morte.
E na ausência da vida
temo esta monotonia do que não deixa ser.

Receio a estagnação das minhas ideias,

dos meus actos que me tornam são.

Desejo as ondas de imensidão correspondente ao tempo que deixa pensar.

Não esquecendo os prados

onde posso deitar meus sonhos
e colher olhares de vidas por ter.

E aqui jaz meu corpo.

Peço-te o mar, peço-te cidade.

Pelo amor de deus, peço-te vida!

Pois morro antes que meus pés toquem nesta terra que julgo ser minha.

Por favor. minha de novo...

nccuco

Um conjunto de situações desfavoráveis acumularam nisto.

Não posso deixar de concluir sobre as consequências dos meus actos

que tornaram o presente na sua antítese.

Nos desejos desaparecidos na facilidade

de se sucumbirem em desperdício.

A contradição do desejado esta ciente de sua presença maquiavelica.

E de pensar que sou a causa disto.

Que só existes por mim
e te causo meu tormento momentâneo.

Porque o tempo é meu amigo

e outro dia me acompanhará a um inicio melhor.

Da-me a mão.

Larga o copo e toca no chão q pisas.

Vem.

nccuco

Bottom Lip

2010-11-11T21:16:00.001+00:00

It’s always been your lips.

Why aren't you in the presence of my wishes?

To always be shown your departure

as sudden as the arrival of someone’s flesh.

Face, lips, a distorted concept of wishes unknown

to this sudden taste of flesh on a primitive reasoning,

feeling so fresh as my mind drifts to a sense of carnal dishes.

I see your face and nothing more.

And as you distance yourself

I crawl towards you begging for release

of this hold you have in recurring dreams.

I crave your lips and that is all.

For I wish for more but it seems all i long for is a kiss.

It is in your smile that an unknown kills me... So swift.

nccuco

Argue

2010-11-11T21:01:00.000+00:00

Understand?

Words of discomfort,

misleading rimes

to compel towards a distance measured by time.

The choice to be appealing

when my voice tells lies

that cannot withstand the boundaries of this band that unites us.

For it does not,

not any longer hold tight to your grasp

for I unwillingly departed myself from such a task.

Feelings unheard,

words unfelt.

She is my third concept of failure.

You've dealt my cards and I only see dark

nccuco

Friends & Family

2010-10-28T01:59:00.000+01:00

i'm not saying family isn't important.. it is very important! it's probably the second most important thing in ones life! (i say in ones life because while living we should always take into consideration life it self and it's value as a hole in everything, but that's just another complicated story). what is the most important thing? well obviously your life.. your friends, your home, your town and where u spend your days. i'm not saying friends are more important then family, but while you know family will always be there when on a downfall, friends are what make you! though they will come and go, with each passage they change you, they influence you and they will pull you or towards or away from your true self. it is by them that u will ponder to act. it is by them that ur options will change. your friends aren't important because of who they are, in this hole concept of the importance of what, in ones life, but because THEY ARE YOU. our parents educate you and try to help you distinguish differences between what is right and wrong. but their words are their opinion and only through a social environment does one truly choose and form his own true will. who do u search to impress? family? no.. why? because it is almost a biological law that they will love you unconditionally and pull you through your downs. but you seek your friends attention, your friends respect and that is why they made you to whom you are! of course one only has to benefit from having family as friends. but it is not all that simple. time comes and families drift only to be joined in pain or remembrance. and the feeling to have someone join you because they truly choose to and not do to a unwritten law of obedience, feels so rewarding. no.. fulfilling is a better word. you are complete with your own. with those who chose you and who you chose. be wise. choose with caution. do not let yourself be pushed down by these friendlyish foes. but pull yourself above these. lead the way or be led.. but make sure the path, the life is the one you choose to follow. though you are many, you are you and everyone has there own wishes. bla bla bla.. i'm rambling. probably said enough.

Infatuation

2010-10-15T19:23:00.004+01:00

[erm... This one's kind of old]

What do you want me to tell you?
That I’m anxious to see you?
That I crave for your presence and when we're apart I wish it not?
Not that I want to touch you. But feel you, to be compelled towards your touch
And be fired up in a gaze of gleaming eyes every time you are about?
Why run from reality? From the inescapable truth that is love?
That is the joy of being among you and to only hope to hold you at night?
I read your words like a mystery,
Like a thriller where I only see the death of my heart.
My burden is to live on in your absence.
But then again,
To live without love is to feel pain in every step, to suffer on every breath,
To feel anguish and despair in the lonelity of the crowd.
This mob that mocks me with there trivial actions of fortitude.
My friends rejoice in laughter as I peel in pain.
Their smile my tear.
For we are apart.
For math is as it should and two continue to be so, when I wished it one.
Wished us one.

nccuco

The other Legion

2010-10-12T02:15:00.001+01:00

[kind of poor. not that great...]

I've called u so many names.
Non of which i choose to tame and say is mine.
If i ask myself why,
you should of realized long ago
your worth as much as a dime.
Though not my intention
this rhyme serves me well.

I hope to create in you some sort of infatuation,
keep on me your attention
for only a moment.
For after i grasp your breath
and lock your touch in my memory
you are to become my torment.
Thrown away, locked in my pouch,
as vulnerable as grass, u seem to just pass.
(stop the comment! i do not care)
pass through my life
as i riped you out of my heart.

Your voice (which i don't bare)
became a clean knife
i use to keep people apart.
Nuno.. keep the poise.
Do not lean any further.
For the abyss lies two feet away
and i am not keen
to see you at the end of this.

Oblivion. It's where i am. It's what you are.
I do not call you mine
for so many names only serve to pass time.
You were a waste of time...
I've called you so many names,
and this is what you became.

nccuco

What tomorrow will bring

2010-10-12T02:00:00.001+01:00

I’ve created this inferno in your gaze.
an escape from reality in which I find myself.
and to it I return with my disappearance
when time finds it convenient.

it's relative to the space.
when I search for it, the place will accept me
only to make me return to my past and,
once again,
leave the present in which I consistently find myself.

I see you a thousand times in my dreams.
And in all of them your face grows paler
from the previous place I’ve been.
where I’ve lived and in despair sought to find you.

In an impractical situation I spoke to you
and from whispers I created a will to possess only what I do not desire.
to go and come.
I search only what I do not know.
I want only the unknown.

You were created without emotion.
Dead to the touch of a puppet
whose hands and hollow words you wish for.

I return to your gaze...
Why so many faces?
why so many enigmas if you are always the same?
I lack the will to fight for what is mine
so I slack in the simplicity of the platonic.
for it is easier not having to face the truth
(that you created. that you so obviously created!)
of your gaze.

I avoid repetition
in the constant search
of the ecstase that you represent.
Naked bodies,
hands full of pain
that transpire the taste of victory in your consumption.

(why do I lie?
where is there victory in the ephemeral?
the trivial in achieving only what I need make no effort for?
I am a hypocrite of egocentric actions.
I live in the contradiction of my words
so that happiness is always a step away.
so I can be satisfied by conceiving
realizing that I can never behold what is at arms length.
Mages and wizards are my justification
to not give one step forward.
So I can never be free from my objective.
For I am no one.
Who am I to move forward
if that power was not given to me?
if God made me a paraplegic of emotion?
And so, I live. "Happy").

nccuco

United we Stand Alone

2010-09-30T00:59:00.003+01:00

[This is about... I'd say selfishness is the word to best describe the subject. Don't want to go into details]

I wanna go for a walk

but there is nowhere to go.

Nothing to see but trees

chained to places they don't belong.

Comfort created without pain as a prerequisite.

All is given freely at the price of joy,

taken to places that cease to exist.

Freedom is given the name of a bullet

and you shoot towards a rally of bunches of nothing

and rejoice with nobodies who never were but always the same.

Fools in your eyes.

The teacher taught by the wrong.

It no longer is your place to know what nobody you know ever knew.

Rise and go forth brother.

Teach the word of ignorance once more

for not knowing is only pain to others.

Your happiness no one else's.

Praise judgment. Praise monotony.

For they are the only path to acceptance.

You have gone far and have been forgotten.

Now rest assured nothing shall come of it.

For the soulless have no redemption.

The blissful have no eyes.

So your truths are but your own and now rest with you.

Let's lay arms brothers

and hold your hands together

as this grenade implodes on the infidel within us all.

Alive but not breathing.

We're long dead...

nccuco

Crianças Ingénuas

2010-09-29T18:37:00.000+01:00

[Não tanto um poema como uma descrição sobre alguém que vislumbra uma relação crescer em pessoas que não sabem lidar com ela]

Vejo-os sempre juntos. Os seus olhares preguiçosos contam mais do que eles desejam q se saiba. O desvio dum permite a memorização de todos os pormenores da face de outrem. Uns não admitem, outros não sabem que tem algo a admitir ainda. Vejo o desejo de gritar o que ele não quer dizer a ninguém. E ela... Ela já se sabe que tem o grito la dentro mas fica rouca antes de saber por quem chama a voz que voa no seu estômago ingénuo de toques inocentes. De coisas incoerentes vive a pobre alma obcecada por algo que na incessante procura, perdeu. São crianças. Não sabem se não de mentiras que não dizem se não contos de verdades escancaradas em suas faces. Mas eu leio mais do que faces... O que na opinião de alguém inadvertido seria indiferença, nos meus olhos vê-se a repressão de sentimentos óbvios. Como brincam na areia, se falam e se olham... Ah como se olham. Seus olhos iluminados duma felicidade da qual nem eles sabem que possuem na presença do outro. Como se desejam sem se falarem. Como se beijam sem se tocarem. Como se enganam ao pensarem que não há ali mais nada se não almoços e jantares sujeitos ao aleatório do tempo livre que decidem sempre passar juntos. Como as crianças se tornam homens e mulheres, e só depois se assumem como perdedores do que podiam ter sido. E a infelicidade de saber que o que se perdeu não volta e que tudo, agora inferior a nada. O sofrimento de nunca mais se tocarem não se iguala ao sofrimento que sinto ao saber que a felicidade foi evitada. Jovens, incoerentes, ingénuos. Ele chora sem chorar. Ela sorri sem nunca rir. E eu sofro por ver morrer mais um jovem preso no arrependimento e não sabes o que custa dizer: um amor... Sim, um amor.... Que nunca foi aceso.

nccuco

Hemispheres

2010-09-29T03:34:00.003+01:00

[About the "rationalizing" of a choice between to different people in a girls mind]

He told her he'd miss her. She told him the same not sure of it's sincerity.

Her mind has been constantly drifting for so long between left and right. And though devided she has always been sure of what's right. But for these days she would have to confront what she, for so long, evaded.

Her mind switches to the left, ceasing to know what is right. Or if right was ever but a distraction of the craves derived from the stimuli given to the wrong sided hemisphere. But how can left feel right. How can wrong be good. To let go, to release. Her mind was no longer divided. Her clouded judgment only focused on one man these days. The more clouded she got the more clear was her line of thought, her reasoning to no longer reason with herself. Her obvious preference for this person who... Just knows what to do, where to touch. So today she thinks she only wants him, but tomorrow... We all know tomorrow she will only want what's right.

nccuco

O Jerko Malignio Ingenuo

2010-09-29T00:20:00.006+01:00

[About what goes on in the mind of a.. well.. a jerk i guess]

We walk.

My thoughts drift away from you as i pace myself to coincide with your steps.

Cars. maybe. or tattoos.

I believe i do not know if i believe in the certainty of what i do not or even may feel for..

You or anyone else.

Today. well.. tomorrow we'll do something different.

I'll love you more (or less the same).

Wheels.

I give rides with a certain occasion just to prove myself i do not want to take rides.

But then again i have to have a continuous race with myself to know i still can.

And only that way i know i do not need to do whatever it is i do.

You haven't been what you used to be.

It seems u love me more and it's, well..

I don't care what it is.

Where are you going?

I seem to not ask myself if it matters.. just do it. run in the woods.

Well maybe not run but hop.

Yes, i love it when you hop.

You or anyone else for that matter. but not like it does.

It doesn't matter at all. just distraction.

Why? you may ask myself.

And i don't really know.

nccuco

Back!

2010-09-28T20:20:00.000+01:00

Tres anos depois decido voltar a publicar os meus passatempos. Para me entreter, para me organizar, porque quero, porque gosto e talvez para serem lidos.
Embora ja nao ache piada ao que escrevi 'a seis anos nao os elemino apenas como lembranca do que foi escrito, dos erros e das melhorias.
Vou comessar a escrever mais em ingles ou nas duas linguas apenas para ter uma escrita com compreensao mais universal.
Irei publicar tudo o que escrevi enquanto nos estados unidos. Um ou dois por dia apenas, para estar melhor organizado.

(meu teclado e' americano, nao terei muitos assentos e C de cedilha)

Three years later i decide to post my hobbies once again. To entertain, to organize myself, because i want to, because i enjoy it and even, maybe, to be read.
Though i no longer find my early "work" that good i do not delete it as memory of what was written, the mistakes, the improvements.
I'm gonna start writing more in english or in both only for my writing to have a more universal comprehension.
I shall publish everything written while in the states. Only one or two a day, at most, for better organization.

Hope you enjoy and of course, any feedback is appreciated.

Mar de vários nomes

2007-06-07T17:18:00.005+01:00

"Não sei porque mas quero estar contigo"

Diz ele inconsciente dos seus sentimentos

Que apenas o irão trair…

Rejeito o futuro!

Porque pensar no que poderá ser quando pode ser!

Agora no presente!

Que problemas poderás ter que se sobrepõem

á tua felicidade? Á nossa.

Tudo se anulará.

Apenas restam teus lábios e os meus.

Minhas mãos sobre teu corpo.

Teus olhos sobre mim e meus sobre ti.

Rejeitas tudo em detrimento desses nadas

que te constringem

e te poluem esse raciocínio absolvido da realidade.

Foges ao meu toque

para resolveres o que seria desvanecido ao me veres…

Vejo a rendição a estas coisas fúteis

Uma característica inerente á minha personalidade.

Dou lealdade a quem me pretende.

Apenas a quem devo a eternidade dos meus sonhos.

E mesmo essa me irá trair na sua supérflua existência

e eu a ela

como prova irrefutável da minha fraca condição

á obrigação de a subjugar

perante minha supremacia

de não conseguir provar de que sou capaz de a ter.

Peço desculpa se meu olhar te iludiu.

Pois não haverá amor na falsidade.

Apenas te espero na eternidade dos sonhos inconcretizáveis.

nccuco

V de vaguear

2007-06-07T17:18:00.004+01:00

No fim não haverá nada se não pessoas e lugares.

Imagens e pensamentos de onde ir e com quem fazer o que…

Sou um fraco. Nem meu mundo consigo superar,

meus objectivos, meus preconceitos,

meus idiomas e meus ideais.

Falo apenas a um estranho de que sou dono.

Mas se não me dou

como domar os meus leais.

O rei nu da festa descabida

na agua ardente consumida.

Nem ousar falar,

propagar as falsas palavras

de regras por cumprir

porque sei que me falta um dente.

Boca fechada de palavras usadas.

Fútil, vão.

Esta terra já não tem nada.

É como as tantas outras… Esquecidas para já não serem lembradas.

nccuco