tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24953975727464678312024-12-19T03:26:51.924+00:00rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.comBlogger564125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-71034312437550723972015-06-28T23:20:00.001+01:002015-06-28T23:29:23.030+01:00

beyoncé, miley cyrus, rihanna, lady gaga, madonna, katy perry, nicki minaj, taylor swift ...

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-66342416057871392062015-03-16T21:47:00.004+00:002015-03-16T21:58:38.994+00:00

This eagerness to change It's a shame

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-6221509700646236062015-02-22T21:59:00.001+00:002015-02-22T22:00:01.063+00:00

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-32710910432209395432014-05-05T22:33:00.001+01:002014-05-05T22:34:26.019+01:00

We're all basically alone.  

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-79337671657128507902014-02-01T16:57:00.001+00:002014-02-01T16:57:47.913+00:00

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-80061917664479269252014-01-30T21:29:00.000+00:002014-01-30T21:31:37.832+00:00

Viciada em música, e já lá vamos, que sou, dou por mim a ter arrepios quando oiço algumas músicas, um arrepio no pescoço ou/e na coluna vertebral, só não se arrepiam os pelos dos braços porque não os tenho. Tento disfarçar o arrepio porque o interpreto como sinal de fragilidade. Quando sentia o “arrepio”, usava, consumia a música até à exaustão, agora, oiço-a com moderação, esporadicamente, não

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-37393436210293966032014-01-07T20:16:00.001+00:002014-01-07T20:16:39.157+00:00

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-66948284737186570422013-11-04T00:57:00.002+00:002013-11-04T00:58:48.854+00:00

I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real The needle tears a hole The old familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything What have I become My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-37692851093763661022013-09-23T20:30:00.000+01:002013-09-23T20:58:43.542+01:00

Não posso adiar o amor para outro século não posso ainda que o grito sufoque na garganta ainda que o ódio estale e crepite e arda sob montanhas cinzentas e montanhas cinzentas Não posso adiar este abraço que é uma arma de dois gumes amor e ódio Não posso adiar ainda que a noite pese séculos sobre as costas e a aurora indecisa demore não posso adiar para outro

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-68604140704422441772013-09-08T11:02:00.004+01:002013-09-08T11:02:58.492+01:00

Falling little more You bumped and crashed in dirty snow Up to our sin, I might as well Melt into Sunday Remember the time We stood there by the lake Watching boats and planes Pretty white clouds The sun will sweat In fact the song begins Trees are your skin On my tongue

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-24833487252204541042013-08-27T21:23:00.001+01:002013-09-08T11:03:17.155+01:00

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-76347038119038463342013-05-20T20:24:00.000+01:002013-05-21T20:36:52.576+01:00

Riders on the storm Into this house we're born Into this world we're thrown Like a dog without a bone An actor out alone Riders on the storm There's a killer on the road His brain is squirmin' like a toad Take a long holiday Let your children play If ya give this man a ride Sweet family will die Killer on the road, yeah Girl ya gotta love your man Girl ya

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-61181764819714432002013-05-01T20:58:00.002+01:002013-05-01T20:58:52.820+01:00

Punay! Punay! ¡Devuélveme, devuélveme, a mi pastorcita perdida!Pastorcita de mi vida, te extraviaste en noche mala, mi voz te busca en el viento y en la puna te reclama.Punay! Punay! ¡Devuélveme, devuélveme, a mi pastorcita perdida!Aunque tenga en esta vida, que viento y tierra tragar, pastorcita de la vida, te he de encontrarte he de encontrar.  

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-57666368370576052202013-04-17T22:16:00.003+01:002013-04-17T22:16:54.290+01:00

Inflama-me, poente: faz-me perfume e chama;que o meu coração seja igual a ti, poente!descobre em mim o eterno, o que arde, o que ama,...e o vento do esquecimento arraste o que é doente! Juan Ramón Jiménez

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-12744066173171599252013-04-14T22:07:00.001+01:002013-04-14T22:41:58.813+01:00

Não consegui ver o video até ao fim. Dehorning: Most cows used for dairy are not naturally hornless. See how farmers remove cows' horns and horn tissue using a variety of painful methods, including burning and cutting the horns out of their heads, often without painkillers. http://youtu.be/8nGMgHyzHcA Eu cresci nos Açores, numa aldeia em São Miguel e muitas vezes a minha mãe,

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-12725769176011343522013-03-31T21:37:00.003+01:002013-03-31T21:37:59.792+01:00

Gárgula.Por dentro a chuva que a incha, por fora a pedra misteriosaque a mantém suspensa.E a boca demoníaca do prodígio despeja-seno caos.Esse animal erguido ao trono de uma estrela,que se debruça para ondeescureço. Pelos flancos construoa criatura. Onde corre o arrepio, das espáduaspara o fundo, com força atenta. Construoaquela massa de tetase unhas, pela espinha, rosas abertas das

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-75842972565753581942013-03-24T19:08:00.001+00:002013-03-24T19:08:32.999+00:00

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-4856278528863838492013-03-20T21:08:00.000+00:002013-03-24T19:09:14.231+00:00

I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a supernova I could walk like Brando right into the sun Then dance just like a Casanova With my blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet Silver star studs on my duds like a Harley in heat When I strut down the street I could hear its heartbeat The sisters fell back

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-71344352821057360322013-03-19T16:40:00.000+00:002013-03-19T13:36:56.531+00:00

(...) ¿e se me tocam na boca? de noite, a mexer na seda para, desdobrando-se, a noite extraterrestre bruxulear um pouco, o último, assim como que húmido, animal, intuitivo, de origem, papel de seda que a rútila força lírica rompa, um arrepio dentro dele, batido, pode ser, no sombrio, como se a vara enflorasse com as faúlhas, (...)

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-63297638281238161202013-02-26T20:24:00.001+00:002013-02-26T20:24:15.737+00:00

 Coentros e garfos Mamas e sapatos

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-46665521307681808962013-02-23T21:47:00.000+00:002013-02-23T21:47:11.628+00:00

Freddie Quell: Well, I'm sorry if I got out of hand last night. It was cold and... Lancaster Dodd: Don't apologize. You're a scoundrel Freddie Quell: [laughs] Lancaster Dodd: And as a scientist and a connoisseur, I have no idea the contents of this remarkable potion. What's in it? Freddie Quell: Secrets.

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-21561669599378314502013-02-18T22:17:00.000+00:002013-02-18T22:17:58.715+00:00

 Mi intimidad es pequeña cabe in mi boca y se desliza por entre los dientes; si la descubro fingiendo ser saliva  me la trago, no quiero verla ajena en las palabras ni perderla con un beso. Ana Merino

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-4383832814410252782013-02-12T16:22:00.000+00:002013-02-12T16:22:07.565+00:00

Que música escutas tão atentamente que não dás por mim? Que bosque, ou rio, ou mar? Ou é dentro de ti que tudo canta ainda? Queria falar contigo, dizer-te apenas que estou aqui, mas tenho medo, medo que toda a música cesse e tu não possas mais olhar as rosas. Medo de quebrar o fio com que teces os dias sem memória. Com que palavras ou beijos ou lágrimas se acordam os mortos sem os

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-1629226170376670322013-02-02T19:07:00.000+00:002013-02-02T19:10:53.375+00:00

Sinto-me assim, toda entranhada.

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2495397572746467831.post-761107099269659762013-02-01T13:10:00.000+00:002013-02-01T20:56:26.007+00:00

Que acontece a uma música, quando deixa de soar; e a uma brisa que deixa de voar, e a uma luz que se apaga? Morte, diz: que és tu, senão silêncio, calma e sombra? Juan Ramón Jiménez

rosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07586924706671298021noreply@blogger.com6