<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:50:37.294-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contos da Sinfonia</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>99</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3266217217226356724</id><published>2012-01-19T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T17:11:47.926-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Soft Words for Hard Boners</title><content type='html'>eles se pegavam&lt;div&gt;abraça, aperta, agarra.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;se beijavam. mordiam. lambiam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Urravam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;só não treparam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cada fenda dilacerada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Arfavam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ignoravam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;os passos da dança&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e todos a volta, inclusive o menino&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;que olhava a cena, distante&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;deslumbrado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;desejoso de ser um deles, ou os dois&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ou entre os dois...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh, que tesão!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seu pau arrebentava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sem nada fazer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;nem cogitar se podia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pois tinha vergonha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3266217217226356724?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3266217217226356724/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3266217217226356724' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3266217217226356724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3266217217226356724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2012/01/soft-words-for-hard-boners.html' title='Soft Words for Hard Boners'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-9101866116247578627</id><published>2011-12-02T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T20:54:31.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mágoas (do que teria dito sem dizer por estar magoado)</title><content type='html'>Ainda está aqui e dói&lt;div&gt;Pois não me foi permitido dizer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seria medo ou o que, não sei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só ouvi as ameaças e fingi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ou ao menos tento esquecer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nem sei se percebeu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fugi, agora finjo amar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E não beijo, por quê?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Estranhos, sem gosto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sofro, por guardar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ansiedade corrosiva tanto tempo vendo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fotos que nem para mim são, divagando&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No ônibus sobre o que nunca seria&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ou poderia, se talvez, um dia, quem sabe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu tivesse dito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-9101866116247578627?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/9101866116247578627/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=9101866116247578627' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/9101866116247578627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/9101866116247578627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/12/magoas-do-que-teria-dito-sem-dizer-por.html' title='Mágoas (do que teria dito sem dizer por estar magoado)'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6886456167178427600</id><published>2011-11-25T01:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T08:50:57.427-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A guerra</title><content type='html'>Ando uma amargura só&lt;div&gt;Bato, brigo, replico e implico&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Só falta morder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que Deus tenha pena deles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu mesmo nem lembrarei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rebato e apanho, tudo complica&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas eu resisto e combato&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Até o último suor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É um peso, que toma e suplica&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um vazio que não tem palavras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gritando ao léu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No paralelo de alegria&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aqui por misericórdia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6886456167178427600?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6886456167178427600/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6886456167178427600' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6886456167178427600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6886456167178427600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/11/guerra.html' title='A guerra'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8547124766743858203</id><published>2011-11-20T09:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T09:25:57.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>grito de guerra</title><content type='html'>Será mesmo? Homem para você. Não sou? &lt;div&gt;Mas tentarei, me esforçarei&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pois não me confooormo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como posso não ser. Sendo eu, Narciso, belo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e tu nem meu espelho és! &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/8772194205415545081-8547124766743858203?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8547124766743858203/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8547124766743858203' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8547124766743858203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8547124766743858203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/11/grito-de-guerra.html' title='grito de guerra'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5409469884973079432</id><published>2011-10-07T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T21:45:46.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loop</title><content type='html'>Novas perspectivas&lt;div&gt;O que meu peito precisa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suspira e amarga&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No loop de cada dia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Horas de guerra e amor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Close enough to start a war&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E para onde foi o ar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sobriedade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maldita&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nada reina&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por quês&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E se&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E se...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;De volta ao começo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É o que meu peito precisa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5409469884973079432?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5409469884973079432/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5409469884973079432' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5409469884973079432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5409469884973079432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/10/loop.html' title='Loop'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3327376142641391215</id><published>2011-07-19T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T17:10:01.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Vamos escrever sobre os homens&lt;div&gt;Escrever sobre Deus&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vamos pedir um poema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dizer o que sei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pedimos fé, amor, paciência&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rezamos, oramos e o que?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O que nos convém&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esquecendo de tudo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perdendo os amigos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beijando estranhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Os rapazes ignoram&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reinam e sonham&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Matam os novos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gritando façanhas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O que vamos pedir?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Por que vamos pedir?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se a dor é tão forte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Real&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Real&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dolorosa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dolorosa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e forte&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amamos a verdade!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3327376142641391215?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3327376142641391215/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3327376142641391215' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3327376142641391215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3327376142641391215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/07/vamos-escrever-sobre-os-homens-escrever.html' title=''/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7251715629685167698</id><published>2011-06-18T15:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T15:51:55.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu anjo mais velho</title><content type='html'>"Você é especial, deve ser feliz"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi o que disse, entre tantas palavras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sou raro e não devo ficar sozinho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi o que concluiu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas saia de perto de mim, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi o que ficou claro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porém não me abandone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi o que deixou a entender&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não sirvo para você&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi o que achou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E mereço sofrer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foi onde errou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fique aqui comigo, pois assim somos felizes. Viva a sua vida e sorria, pois agora é tão belo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Você merece o mundo e os céus. Mas não um anjo decaído e perdido, desgraçado por escolha e dolorido do tempo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me deu um tapa no peito&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É tudo tão injusto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7251715629685167698?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7251715629685167698/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7251715629685167698' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7251715629685167698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7251715629685167698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/06/meu-anjo-mais-velho.html' title='Meu anjo mais velho'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1840327465433779771</id><published>2011-05-21T21:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T21:47:10.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On the dance floor</title><content type='html'>Fecho meus olhos e estou te beijando&lt;div&gt;Quanto sofrimento!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Drama Queen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porque fui escolher esse caminho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Estou tão fraco e transparente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Porque ainda não me despedaçou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anjo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E ainda me aguenta e me mata&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como odeio amar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sanidade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Onde?&lt;br /&gt;Se está aqui, se não és tu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;raiva, pena, dor, alegria, nirvana, medo, ódio, sorriso, amor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1840327465433779771?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1840327465433779771/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1840327465433779771' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1840327465433779771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1840327465433779771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/05/on-dance-floor.html' title='On the dance floor'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7602155260835758858</id><published>2011-04-19T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T20:58:36.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre olhos de catarro</title><content type='html'>Te encontrei nas cervejas&lt;div&gt;Nas danças e nas ruas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Com você nem havia sonhado&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Então o que estaria ganhando?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pare de lutar meu doce herói&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;De cantos de arte, de cantos de fúria&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Você é tão azedo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amargo, mesmo assim&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Te amo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sei que temos medo de amar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Você tem medo de viver&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pessoas são tão crueis, não é?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mesmo atrás de meus discursos &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;De bondade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pois só tu vês, pois és puro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mesmo que diga que não&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pessoas são tão crueis, não é?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas te esperarei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Te amo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7602155260835758858?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7602155260835758858/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7602155260835758858' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7602155260835758858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7602155260835758858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/04/sobre-olhos-de-catarro.html' title='Sobre olhos de catarro'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2306753306962587680</id><published>2011-01-07T15:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T15:19:23.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disperso</title><content type='html'>Havia abandonado a magia&lt;div&gt;Tentou voltar pra caverna&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Se perdeu no caminho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sentiu o cheiro da chuva&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas sua cabeça doeu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Correu, o mundo parou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ficou perplexo na rua&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As sombras ainda chamavam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ao menos nisso acreditou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Violentou seu próprio amor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tudo era efêmero e nada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorriu descontroladamente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Era um ser de outro mundo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apostou cada forma e cor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Todas suas forças ali&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jogar é muito chato&lt;div&gt;Foi o que o vi decidir&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enquanto sangrava&lt;/div&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/8772194205415545081-2306753306962587680?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2306753306962587680/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2306753306962587680' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2306753306962587680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2306753306962587680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2011/01/disperso.html' title='Disperso'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4911349414983236841</id><published>2010-11-15T18:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T18:41:46.648-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Devaneios de quem não bebe da taça</title><content type='html'>Minhas unhas ainda doem&lt;br /&gt;Ainda sangram&lt;br /&gt;Culpa de ontem, sua&lt;br /&gt;Porque jovens são alegres&lt;br /&gt;Ou deveriam&lt;br /&gt;Desculpe por ser cinza&lt;br /&gt;Opaco&lt;br /&gt;É que já reservei minhas cores&lt;br /&gt;Á arte, à magia&lt;br /&gt;Talvez por amar Horus&lt;br /&gt;Mas porque desculpas&lt;br /&gt;Se não sinto culpa e a descarto?&lt;br /&gt;Foi você que não quis&lt;br /&gt;Sir, old loved flower!&lt;br /&gt;Havia poças de sangue&lt;br /&gt;Ou seria o vinho que me destes&lt;br /&gt;Do resto da taça que não era tua&lt;br /&gt;Acabou, não é?&lt;br /&gt;A leitura morreu&lt;br /&gt;Minha estante é quem sente&lt;br /&gt;Um dia quem sabe eu volto&lt;br /&gt;Ao boteco das ordens secretas&lt;br /&gt;Branco e de esquina, falta de sorte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4911349414983236841?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4911349414983236841/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4911349414983236841' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4911349414983236841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4911349414983236841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/11/devaneios-de-quem-nao-bebe-da-taca.html' title='Devaneios de quem não bebe da taça'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6296463154662818524</id><published>2010-09-02T06:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T06:32:53.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Profecias de um coração acostumado</title><content type='html'>Eu vi o dia de hoje&lt;br /&gt;Nas nossas conversas&lt;br /&gt;De dias atrás&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabia todos seus passos&lt;br /&gt;Vi que não tinha pressa&lt;br /&gt;Eu não tinha paz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem disse que eu fui traido?&lt;br /&gt;São truques do coração&lt;br /&gt;Armadilhas de uma fada insana&lt;br /&gt;Dias, meses perdidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minha mais adorável princesa&lt;br /&gt;Não sonho com você mais&lt;br /&gt;Pois já conhecia seu príncipe&lt;br /&gt;E não era eu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isso muito meses atrás&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6296463154662818524?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6296463154662818524/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6296463154662818524' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6296463154662818524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6296463154662818524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/09/profecias-de-um-coracao-acostumado.html' title='Profecias de um coração acostumado'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2537505690964762975</id><published>2010-07-24T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T19:52:47.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colorful Gentleman, leaving</title><content type='html'>Bravamente e cansado.&lt;br /&gt;Ele partiu&lt;br /&gt;O nobre cavalheiro e seus olhos mortos, suas cores de vida&lt;br /&gt;Recomeçando de onde viera em busca de sonhos, de tempo&lt;br /&gt;Realizará&lt;br /&gt;Deixando para trás aqueles que lhe foram leais&lt;br /&gt;Em troca de presença, pois isso basta&lt;br /&gt;Ele fora o anjo, o guia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem cores as trevas reinam, mas o Sol brilhará&lt;br /&gt;Foi o que disseram as palavras&lt;br /&gt;Todas ausentes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhos que se viram, amargam&lt;br /&gt;Em umidade vermelha, pois pensam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valeu a pena&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sussura o amanhã&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2537505690964762975?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2537505690964762975/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2537505690964762975' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2537505690964762975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2537505690964762975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/07/colorful-gentleman-leaving.html' title='Colorful Gentleman, leaving'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8383886925801779283</id><published>2010-07-14T19:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T19:13:00.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre anjos</title><content type='html'>Ia escrever um poema&lt;br /&gt;Tinha os sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;Mas não as palavras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um anjo me roubou todas&lt;br /&gt;Me fez cair em perdição&lt;br /&gt;No vazio das incertezas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E me perdi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amigos me seguram em voo&lt;br /&gt;E vejo, ali embaixo, um brinquedo&lt;br /&gt;Sou eu, mortal, sonhador&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que tentam me tirar do chão?&lt;br /&gt;Oh anjos, ingênuos! Devassos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uns não gostam dos outros&lt;br /&gt;Por que todos nos maltratam&lt;br /&gt;Assim como nos amam&lt;br /&gt;E o céu cai em guerra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Explode em cores de aurora&lt;br /&gt;O Belo.&lt;br /&gt;Os humanos sorriem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anjos brilham&lt;br /&gt;Tempos de [não] revolta&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-8383886925801779283?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8383886925801779283/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8383886925801779283' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8383886925801779283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8383886925801779283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/07/sobre-anjos.html' title='Sobre anjos'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-559269753726350818</id><published>2010-06-04T22:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T22:19:13.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prólogo</title><content type='html'>Os livros descansam&lt;br /&gt;Em paz me deleito&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recordo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voo ao teu encontro&lt;br /&gt;Seus olhos de mel abraçam&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo, me levanto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sonhos que só nós sabemos&lt;br /&gt;Por que só vem nesses momentos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solidão, nostalgia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vidas que se partem&lt;br /&gt;Por que, por que, por que?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não seria aquela a ultima canção?&lt;br /&gt;Seriamos nós os que ainda sonharão?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seu número dança em minha tela&lt;br /&gt;Quero ouvir a música do seu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;A doçura dos seus lábios que dizem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fofocando, relembrando, despedindo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu deveria parar de cobrar&lt;br /&gt;Não foi por não querermos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A magia repele&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curioso pensar que ainda lembro&lt;br /&gt;Engraçado pensar que ainda sonho&lt;br /&gt;Só não sei se ainda amo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nem sinto mais dor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então por que ainda choro?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que seus olhos brilham?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-559269753726350818?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/559269753726350818/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=559269753726350818' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/559269753726350818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/559269753726350818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/06/prologo.html' title='Prólogo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5618167519871204248</id><published>2010-04-24T19:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T19:32:04.614-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Último poema do...</title><content type='html'>Apaguei todos os resquícios do passado&lt;br /&gt;Ficaram na cabeça daqueles que viram&lt;br /&gt;A partir de ontem eles não vivem mais&lt;br /&gt;Só lembranças se permitem um existir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apanhei contos e temas e crei histórias&lt;br /&gt;E refiz tudo o que você um dia criou&lt;br /&gt;O mundo não precisa mais desses meninos&lt;br /&gt;Chegou no tempo de se ver, se despedir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem palavras damos adeus na madrugada&lt;br /&gt;O trem te espera de portas fechadas&lt;br /&gt;E eu sigo a jornada dos justos e fortes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amarei cada segundo daquilo que não foi&lt;br /&gt;Te pedirei que também não esqueça de nós&lt;br /&gt;Pois agora penso em um novo tudo... de nada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5618167519871204248?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5618167519871204248/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5618167519871204248' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5618167519871204248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5618167519871204248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/04/ultimo-poema-do.html' title='Último poema do...'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4562089391025524039</id><published>2010-03-09T17:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T17:47:01.071-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Robber</title><content type='html'>Stolen dreams&lt;br /&gt;Stolen life&lt;br /&gt;Broken thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Forgotten fights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What shoul I do&lt;br /&gt;If you regret me?&lt;br /&gt;What could I do&lt;br /&gt;When I don't get it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those were yours&lt;br /&gt;And so they're mine&lt;br /&gt;But you don't see it&lt;br /&gt;I've lost your friendship&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4562089391025524039?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4562089391025524039/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4562089391025524039' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4562089391025524039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4562089391025524039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/03/robber.html' title='The Robber'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1922434811068274708</id><published>2010-03-09T17:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T17:35:35.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ciclo</title><content type='html'>Perdão&lt;br /&gt;Não te segurarei&lt;br /&gt;Aprendi a transformar tudo em água&lt;br /&gt;Doce e cristalina que me banha, me limpa&lt;br /&gt;Mata minha sede&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdão&lt;br /&gt;Você é vital, é essencial&lt;br /&gt;Mas é um rio, suas águas também se vão&lt;br /&gt;E não sei fazer represas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu serás chuva,&lt;br /&gt;Que me banhará de tempos&lt;br /&gt;Em tempos nessa cidade, no campo&lt;br /&gt;Chuva que renova, que se esquece&lt;br /&gt;Que se repete...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez eu tenha falhado&lt;br /&gt;Fervido talvez, me tornei borbulhante&lt;br /&gt;Incontrolável, fervente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez o inverno tenha chegado&lt;br /&gt;O lago congelado e a vida&lt;br /&gt;Adormecido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas talvez digam que eu seja o rio&lt;br /&gt;Talvez digam que eu tenha fugido&lt;br /&gt;Me poluido, perdido no oceano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E você está lá na margem&lt;br /&gt;Olhando os peixes que sobem&lt;br /&gt;Esperando a água nova&lt;br /&gt;Da fonte do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Dos céus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdão&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1922434811068274708?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1922434811068274708/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1922434811068274708' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1922434811068274708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1922434811068274708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2010/03/ciclo.html' title='Ciclo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-320771783409797276</id><published>2009-10-25T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T17:50:18.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Arquétipo da solidão</title><content type='html'>Meus olhos amargam&lt;br /&gt;Meu estômago azeda&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração se perde&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guerra no meu sangue&lt;br /&gt;É refletida em minha pele&lt;br /&gt;E minha alma grita&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o mundo não se banha em águas&lt;br /&gt;De olhos que suplicam o retorno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Provavelmente foram esquecidos&lt;br /&gt;Era o que dizia o poeta louco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seguiram para a nova jornada&lt;br /&gt;Os heróis já não me salvam mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por dimensões vago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por sorrisos divago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por estar no vácuo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suplico ao vazio&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-320771783409797276?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/320771783409797276/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=320771783409797276' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/320771783409797276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/320771783409797276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/10/arquetipo-da-solidao.html' title='Arquétipo da solidão'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-309086154393699038</id><published>2009-10-25T17:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T17:26:28.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tai ni Sora</title><content type='html'>O que seria a luz, essa magia?&lt;br /&gt;Qual seria a tríade, a verdade?&lt;br /&gt;Estaria nela o triangulo ou o mundo?&lt;br /&gt;Círculo quadrado... em espiral&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Graus, degraus, detalhes, poder&lt;br /&gt;Quais cores representaria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vermelho, azul, amarelo, verde&lt;br /&gt;Magenta, não existe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei, não sabe, não ensine&lt;br /&gt;O elo é bem mais difícil&lt;br /&gt;A força já é nula&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Resistir já não existe&lt;br /&gt;Amar é apenas um exercício&lt;br /&gt;Perdoar é um esquecimento&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honra é para raros&lt;br /&gt;Raros esses que se eternizam&lt;br /&gt;Raros esses que nos abraçam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A forma talvez não importe tanto...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-309086154393699038?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/309086154393699038/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=309086154393699038' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/309086154393699038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/309086154393699038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/10/tai-ni-sora.html' title='Tai ni Sora'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2678890023885330840</id><published>2009-09-26T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T20:01:01.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O mundo cai aqui</title><content type='html'>Tava querendo escrever um poema&lt;br /&gt;Sobre as belezas desse mundo&lt;br /&gt;Sobre os cantos do pássaros&lt;br /&gt;Sobre os beijos de chocolate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tava pensando num poema&lt;br /&gt;Tão doce quanto seus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Cor de doce de leite, a cor mais bela&lt;br /&gt;A cor da vida, da infância, minha alegria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tava sonhando com poemas&lt;br /&gt;Tão sincero quanto minha vaidade&lt;br /&gt;Seria essa a cruel verdade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eis um poema insano&lt;br /&gt;Cheio de vida e de&lt;br /&gt;Dor?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2678890023885330840?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2678890023885330840/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2678890023885330840' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2678890023885330840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2678890023885330840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/09/o-mundo-cai-aqui.html' title='O mundo cai aqui'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7077815932981801479</id><published>2009-08-14T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T23:05:55.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Empatia!</title><content type='html'>Por que o espanto?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você já sabia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos eternos&lt;br /&gt;É a verdade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Num segundo ou em tres anos&lt;br /&gt;Somos fogo e somos terra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos vida, somos alma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E por que não?&lt;br /&gt;Por que chora?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pobre invalido!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olá!&lt;br /&gt;Não lembro,&lt;br /&gt;Mas sei quem é!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voila&lt;br /&gt;C'est la vie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que bela via!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esqueça do tempo&lt;br /&gt;Esqueça dos rostos&lt;br /&gt;Confunda os nomes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lembre dos risos&lt;br /&gt;Sorria...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serás eterno!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7077815932981801479?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7077815932981801479/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7077815932981801479' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7077815932981801479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7077815932981801479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/08/espanto.html' title='Empatia!'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1748877098570286043</id><published>2009-08-10T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T19:23:46.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mães-Terra</title><content type='html'>Elas conseguiram&lt;br /&gt;Elas criaram&lt;br /&gt;A perfeição&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crianças doces&lt;br /&gt;Para adorar&lt;br /&gt;Para amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De toques suaves&lt;br /&gt;De risos gostosos&lt;br /&gt;Olhares de ressaca&lt;br /&gt;Olhares sombrios&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crianças doutro mundo&lt;br /&gt;Inocentes, jamais ingenuas&lt;br /&gt;Verdadeiras, em seu mundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mantenedoras da dualidade&lt;br /&gt;Guardiãs da santa trindade&lt;br /&gt;Heróis, guerreiros, pacificadores&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim, elas criaram&lt;br /&gt;A bondade&lt;br /&gt;A felicidade&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1748877098570286043?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1748877098570286043/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1748877098570286043' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1748877098570286043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1748877098570286043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/08/maes-terra.html' title='Mães-Terra'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3207981941084065669</id><published>2009-08-03T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T18:00:12.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poema azul</title><content type='html'>Viajei quilometros, voando, planando&lt;br /&gt;Num mar salgado e amargo, infinito&lt;br /&gt;Procurando tempestades, calmarias&lt;br /&gt;Enfrentando piratas alados, selvagens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toquei os céus e me vi ali, maravilhado&lt;br /&gt;No espaço, na cúpula, preso no todo&lt;br /&gt;Liberto da consciencia, observando&lt;br /&gt;O retrato, pertinente, que espiava&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Música para meus ouvidos&lt;br /&gt;Com aqueles beijos molhados&lt;br /&gt;Com sabor de ferrugem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhares gentis escondidos&lt;br /&gt;Rosto calmo e adocicado&lt;br /&gt;Língua perdida entre nuvens&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3207981941084065669?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3207981941084065669/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3207981941084065669' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3207981941084065669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3207981941084065669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/08/poema-azul.html' title='Poema azul'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7261248530128634575</id><published>2009-07-19T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T17:31:30.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Busca</title><content type='html'>Procurei e não encontrei&lt;br /&gt;Versos para um poema&lt;br /&gt;Nem no amor achei, por que?&lt;br /&gt;Eros me abandonou.&lt;br /&gt;Acordei de madrugada&lt;br /&gt;Sonhei com músicas,&lt;br /&gt;Com palavras, mas nada.&lt;br /&gt;Seria uma fase, só travamento&lt;br /&gt;Distancia dela, meus sentimentos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei, como saberei?&lt;br /&gt;Como ter inspiração&lt;br /&gt;Uma canção? Um sonho?&lt;br /&gt;Um amor, uma vida, um problema?&lt;br /&gt;Mais um dilema, mas tentarei&lt;br /&gt;Começarei com a procura&lt;br /&gt;Por versos, uma luz&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer coisa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Começarei com esse problema...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7261248530128634575?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7261248530128634575/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7261248530128634575' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7261248530128634575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7261248530128634575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/07/busca.html' title='Busca'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5188276653860847692</id><published>2009-07-16T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T20:13:21.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>[Re] Sentimentos</title><content type='html'>Caminhando na eternidade de cada segundo&lt;br /&gt;Me entreguei ao desejo de passar aqui de novo&lt;br /&gt;Para dar um oi e para lembrar que você vive&lt;br /&gt;Pois eu não esqueci, como esqueceria?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5188276653860847692?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5188276653860847692/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5188276653860847692' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5188276653860847692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5188276653860847692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/07/re-sentimentos.html' title='[Re] Sentimentos'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3435086870543439308</id><published>2009-06-25T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T19:50:46.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guerreiros sob a face da lua</title><content type='html'>Explodiu!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pensamentos, dores,&lt;br /&gt;risadas, devaneios!&lt;br /&gt;Batidas no ombro,&lt;br /&gt;abraços não dados&lt;br /&gt;Palavras não ditas,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queimando... a garganta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se esvaindo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como fumaça, deixando de ser&lt;br /&gt;leve, levando pra longe&lt;br /&gt;As sementes do girassol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinzas caindo&lt;br /&gt;Doces e felizes&lt;br /&gt;Poeira dos quatro cantos&lt;br /&gt;Sonhadores na janela&lt;br /&gt;Brilhando, sumindo, dançando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reconstrução.&lt;br /&gt;De tudo o que foi perdido&lt;br /&gt;Resurgindo de forma digna&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que ficou nas sombras&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que fora sobras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dos meninos que ainda vivem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3435086870543439308?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3435086870543439308/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3435086870543439308' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3435086870543439308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3435086870543439308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/06/guerreiros-sob-face-da-lua.html' title='Guerreiros sob a face da lua'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4051158378899171755</id><published>2009-06-23T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T19:51:00.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>Ontem te vi, anjo&lt;br /&gt;te vi eterno&lt;br /&gt;Vi que vivia,&lt;br /&gt;Eu estava certo&lt;br /&gt;Tu serias perfeito&lt;br /&gt;Para sempre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que belo o fruto&lt;br /&gt;Que fizeste dele,&lt;br /&gt;Virou árvore,&lt;br /&gt;Proteina?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vi ela também&lt;br /&gt;Demônio encantadora&lt;br /&gt;Quis tocá-la, quis tê-la&lt;br /&gt;Ela era sua, anjo&lt;br /&gt;Que revolta!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ontem sonhei conosco&lt;br /&gt;Estavamos no cinza&lt;br /&gt;Mas bem lá em cima&lt;br /&gt;Lá no céu, no teu mundo&lt;br /&gt;Tu me salvastes,&lt;br /&gt;Tamanha piedade!&lt;br /&gt;Divino e humanizado...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avalio quanto durará&lt;br /&gt;Essa eternidade de segundos&lt;br /&gt;Desejos retrógrados&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Por que partiu?"&lt;br /&gt;Perguntas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou-me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4051158378899171755?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4051158378899171755/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4051158378899171755' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4051158378899171755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4051158378899171755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/06/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2316056680256873390</id><published>2009-06-08T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T18:44:41.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Evil Has Came</title><content type='html'>Essa fuga e essas sombras,&lt;br /&gt;São a causa de todo o mal&lt;br /&gt;Essa vaidade insana, de um ego&lt;br /&gt;Maculado e vil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disseram ver luz, onde se via trevas&lt;br /&gt;E isso o fez decair mais... e mais&lt;br /&gt;Inflando e subindo, leve e poderoso&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto se perdia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decaia e subia&lt;br /&gt;Vitorioso em meio ao caos&lt;br /&gt;Ele era Chaos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feriu seu próprio sangue&lt;br /&gt;Matou todos seus mestres&lt;br /&gt;Pois era puro&lt;br /&gt;Pois era bom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Genialidade supérflua&lt;br /&gt;Felicidade sádica&lt;br /&gt;Comeu todos os frutos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morreu...&lt;br /&gt;Mais uma vez.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2316056680256873390?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2316056680256873390/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2316056680256873390' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2316056680256873390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2316056680256873390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/06/evil-has-came.html' title='The Evil Has Came'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2658504197097113831</id><published>2009-05-18T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T18:35:23.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mussubi no Keiko</title><content type='html'>Seriam os fracos mestres&lt;br /&gt;Seriam?&lt;br /&gt;Há quem discorde&lt;br /&gt;Como seriam fracos os mestres&lt;br /&gt;Como?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o todo em nome de tudo&lt;br /&gt;Elo eterno que nos torna um&lt;br /&gt;Nos torna únicos&lt;br /&gt;Pois nada é o todo&lt;br /&gt;Pois o todo é nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É onde transcendemos&lt;br /&gt;É onde seguimos juntos&lt;br /&gt;Onde ficamos distantes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mussubi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foi o que o mestre falou&lt;br /&gt;Era o que o mestre falou&lt;br /&gt;E eu ainda não o encontrei&lt;br /&gt;Pois ainda sou nada&lt;br /&gt;Então seria eu o todo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pois isso é para mestres.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não é?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2658504197097113831?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2658504197097113831/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2658504197097113831' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2658504197097113831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2658504197097113831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/05/mussubi-no-keiko.html' title='Mussubi no Keiko'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4189239019791556037</id><published>2009-05-15T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T20:15:03.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Velame</title><content type='html'>Um anjo ontem me disse:&lt;br /&gt;Vá dormir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu não fui...&lt;br /&gt;Outro anjo então me disse:&lt;br /&gt;Escreva um poema&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Também não fiz...&lt;br /&gt;Não ontem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiquei acordado&lt;br /&gt;Sonhando na vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Velejando...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esqueci-me dos anjos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pecado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4189239019791556037?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4189239019791556037/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4189239019791556037' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4189239019791556037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4189239019791556037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/05/velame.html' title='Velame'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3799643549259851344</id><published>2009-05-07T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T19:57:10.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soledad, Soledad</title><content type='html'>Seja eterna, Soledad&lt;br /&gt;Como as músicas que cantamos&lt;br /&gt;Sempre terna, Soledad&lt;br /&gt;Come as frutas que catamos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sol massivo do meio dia&lt;br /&gt;Como os amores de nossa infancia&lt;br /&gt;Só lasciva a quem repuldia&lt;br /&gt;Cheira às flores de vossa estância&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinta a vida, Soledad&lt;br /&gt;Compare ao tempo de cada segundo&lt;br /&gt;Sempre viva, Soledad&lt;br /&gt;Compra cada alegria desse mundo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3799643549259851344?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3799643549259851344/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3799643549259851344' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3799643549259851344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3799643549259851344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/05/soledad-soledad.html' title='Soledad, Soledad'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7495218007120600529</id><published>2009-05-04T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T20:12:31.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre dores paradoxais</title><content type='html'>Me explica o que seria, essa dor vazia&lt;br /&gt;Vazia (?), me explica, preciso de atenção&lt;br /&gt;Preciso de vida, de sonhos, de sol, diga!&lt;br /&gt;Preencha todos os campos, todo o caos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O caos? O todo, o divino, sou eu, me olhe!&lt;br /&gt;Estou aqui oculto nas sombras, e quero que veja&lt;br /&gt;Não sou um contraste ambulante? Que pena&lt;br /&gt;Você não vê o que eu quero, só o que mostro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, o que quero? Me diz, vai!&lt;br /&gt;Estou perdido, me encontre&lt;br /&gt;Não seja daqueles que saem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que vão, sem respostas, que faço?&lt;br /&gt;Se tudo que eu sentia já se esvai?&lt;br /&gt;Explica esse universo por que passo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7495218007120600529?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7495218007120600529/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7495218007120600529' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7495218007120600529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7495218007120600529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/05/sobre-dores-paradoxais.html' title='Sobre dores paradoxais'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-624897899317858577</id><published>2009-05-01T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T15:39:40.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O filósofo da esquina</title><content type='html'>Como definir o fim do mundo?&lt;br /&gt;Seria o novo ou seria o velho?&lt;br /&gt;Seria o agora ou o nunca?&lt;br /&gt;Destruição, o caos, o belo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que fazer de beijos não dados&lt;br /&gt;De abraços apenas sonhados&lt;br /&gt;O que fazer? Esse é o dilema&lt;br /&gt;Distância, os fatos, o viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que saber de rostos&lt;br /&gt;Estranhos que cantam?&lt;br /&gt;Naquele pedaço do nada&lt;br /&gt;Onde estão, quem são&lt;br /&gt;Perguntas respostas&lt;br /&gt;Não feitas, não dadas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Infinito, eternidade, sinônimos&lt;br /&gt;Nada disso é respondido,&lt;br /&gt;Perfumes, sabores, humanos&lt;br /&gt;Nada disso é perguntado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriam todos filósofos,&lt;br /&gt;Ou estão todos esquecidos&lt;br /&gt;Estão todos viciados no tempo&lt;br /&gt;Estão todos acorrentados ao mundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então me torno apenas mais um&lt;br /&gt;Entrando no ônibus que me leva&lt;br /&gt;Ao éter, à criação, à perdição&lt;br /&gt;À humanidade, a perfeição&lt;br /&gt;O que seria de todos sem isso?&lt;br /&gt;Deuses, demônios, imaginação...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-624897899317858577?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/624897899317858577/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=624897899317858577' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/624897899317858577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/624897899317858577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-filosofo-da-esquina.html' title='O filósofo da esquina'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4356348822858000470</id><published>2009-04-25T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T20:04:38.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Procura-se</title><content type='html'>Esqueci ontem um poema&lt;br /&gt;Ele ficou perdido nessas ruas&lt;br /&gt;Nas horas de muitas vidas&lt;br /&gt;Daqueles que vem e não ficam&lt;br /&gt;Perdido para todo o sempre&lt;br /&gt;E não comprei um caderno&lt;br /&gt;Então assim as deixo, todas&lt;br /&gt;Naqueles bancos de muitos,&lt;br /&gt;Idéias e palavras esquecidas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Até as rimas se foram!&lt;br /&gt;E acho que até o ritmo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4356348822858000470?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4356348822858000470/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4356348822858000470' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4356348822858000470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4356348822858000470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/04/procura-se.html' title='Procura-se'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8317566022090197445</id><published>2009-04-11T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T20:20:35.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fluxofonia</title><content type='html'>E por falar em rosas&lt;br /&gt;Me esqueci dos espinhos&lt;br /&gt;E me perdi nos desejos&lt;br /&gt;Esquecendo da aurora&lt;br /&gt;Da flor que me traria a vida&lt;br /&gt;E me brotaria eterna&lt;br /&gt;Nos quatro cantos do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Viajando por entre os ventos&lt;br /&gt;E seria assim o príncipe&lt;br /&gt;Por nada seria rei&lt;br /&gt;Sereno descansaria&lt;br /&gt;E pra sempre viveria&lt;br /&gt;Nas tramas que eu farei&lt;br /&gt;Sobre guerras ou sobre doces&lt;br /&gt;Sobre deuses ou padarias&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o nada e somente o nada&lt;br /&gt;Não era nada o que eu queria&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-8317566022090197445?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8317566022090197445/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8317566022090197445' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8317566022090197445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8317566022090197445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/04/fluxofonia.html' title='Fluxofonia'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8556312134887208942</id><published>2009-04-10T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T19:56:54.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Valsa de agora</title><content type='html'>Nem tão forte&lt;br /&gt;Nem tão fraco&lt;br /&gt;É assim que se esvai&lt;br /&gt;O romance e tudo mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ó princesa desgovernada&lt;br /&gt;Que fizestes de minha vida?&lt;br /&gt;Ó principe tão desligado&lt;br /&gt;Por que não avisou de sua ida?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que palavras usar para o nada&lt;br /&gt;Quando esse nem chega a ser nada&lt;br /&gt;Disseram para falar sobre o quase&lt;br /&gt;E eu quase o não fiz, mas vieram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentem-se e sirvam, essa é a melodia&lt;br /&gt;Das palavras que não vieram, dos grandes&lt;br /&gt;Que já se foram, e assim todos dançamos&lt;br /&gt;Essa valsa de sentimentos tortos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-8556312134887208942?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8556312134887208942/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8556312134887208942' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8556312134887208942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8556312134887208942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/04/valsa-de-agora.html' title='Valsa de agora'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2662769577600307202</id><published>2009-04-10T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T19:21:11.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cidade de Papel</title><content type='html'>Nossos passos se cruzaram&lt;br /&gt;E nas vinhas se perderam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre jovens, sempre nobres&lt;br /&gt;Sempre bons, nos convenceram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ó amigo, do silêncio, de razões&lt;br /&gt;De solidão, utopia, pintada&lt;br /&gt;Moldurada e embelezada&lt;br /&gt;Pelo mundo, ó irmão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos livres?&lt;br /&gt;Somos deuses&lt;br /&gt;Somos nadas?&lt;br /&gt;Somos nossos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E a luz já se alastrou&lt;br /&gt;E o mundo se esquece&lt;br /&gt;E se perde, na magia,&lt;br /&gt;No poder...&lt;br /&gt;no explendor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que tristeza?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só da ida,&lt;br /&gt;Dos bons males que deixamos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em paz&lt;br /&gt;E sorrimos&lt;br /&gt;Mais nas fotos&lt;br /&gt;Pelos sonhos&lt;br /&gt;Que compramos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o que poderia ser mais belo&lt;br /&gt;Que esses sorrisos ingenuos&lt;br /&gt;De pureza e imprudencia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos fortes?&lt;br /&gt;Somos deuses&lt;br /&gt;Somos unicos?&lt;br /&gt;Somos nossos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E a vida é apenas uma dança&lt;br /&gt;E as lágrimas são apenas a chuva&lt;br /&gt;E dançamos e nos banhamos&lt;br /&gt;Para sorrir e para viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pois aprenderemos&lt;br /&gt;A amar e a conviver&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2662769577600307202?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2662769577600307202/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2662769577600307202' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2662769577600307202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2662769577600307202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/04/cidade-de-cristal.html' title='Cidade de Papel'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8288123552575332185</id><published>2009-04-03T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T20:11:01.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Árvore de Sonhos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Serenidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;A vida e a juventude&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Os &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"&gt;sonhos&lt;/span&gt; de crianças torpes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Que gritam para serem amadas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;E gargalham, no &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;futuro&lt;/span&gt;, do ontem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;A paz não reina nunca, no turbilhão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Que nós formamos, e explodem em&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Sentimentos, a &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;verdade&lt;/span&gt; que pensamos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Sempre &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;doces&lt;/span&gt;, sempre ácidas, perdem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Por tentarem se achar, e choram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;As perdas que eles mesmo criaram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;E morrem, de &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;dor &lt;/span&gt;e na escuridão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Tudo pelo &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;vazio&lt;/span&gt;, do nada que foi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Recebido, do tudo que foi doado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;E amam ardentemente, cada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Segundo, tão pertinentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Vida de &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"&gt;sonhos &lt;/span&gt;fudidos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Vida fudida de sonhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Sonhos fudidos da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Pois a vida é sonho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;E os sonhos, plagio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Sonho.&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/8772194205415545081-8288123552575332185?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8288123552575332185/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8288123552575332185' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8288123552575332185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8288123552575332185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/04/arvore-de-sonhos.html' title='Árvore de Sonhos'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1472336237231067055</id><published>2009-03-27T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T21:47:37.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ao puro, ao ácido e à criação</title><content type='html'>Silêncio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;foi o que fez,&lt;br /&gt;nascer esse reino de perfeição&lt;br /&gt;Pela pureza revelada na arrogância das crianças&lt;br /&gt;Abandonamos deuses e nos rendemos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;À magia da criação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outro anjo renegado,&lt;br /&gt;Divino em seus castigos&lt;br /&gt;Me corta todas as asas&lt;br /&gt;Me faz tão forte e humano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E ando            ... doces palavras&lt;br /&gt;Que cortam e me faz feliz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ácido em teus filetes de ironia ressentida&lt;br /&gt;Curioso soou sempre amargo, sem ser&lt;br /&gt;Buscando a doçura com sua maldade&lt;br /&gt;Porém nunca vi agir sem sabor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas ainda não sei onde está o sal&lt;br /&gt;Sei que sempre teve um gosto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cruel, perfeito e inovador...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silêncio...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o que nos mantem?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1472336237231067055?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1472336237231067055/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1472336237231067055' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1472336237231067055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1472336237231067055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/03/ao-puro-ao-acido-e-criacao.html' title='Ao puro, ao ácido e à criação'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3045698842769255725</id><published>2009-03-19T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T10:00:57.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Isso não é bem um poema</title><content type='html'>Pensei em tudo que é vão...&lt;br /&gt;E me prendi completamente a eles&lt;br /&gt;Me esqueci das cores suaves, das estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Dos tons pasteis que preenchiam o espaço&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pensei na verdade e pensei também na vaidade&lt;br /&gt;Caminhei por corredores e me perdi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viajei por sensações de sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;O amargo da minha boca apertava meu peito&lt;br /&gt;Alguém me perguntou sobre você&lt;br /&gt;E eu dei respostas vagas, filhas da distância&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da saudade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alguém sim, pois você já não se importa&lt;br /&gt;Nada mais importa e isso é real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ontem perguntei sobre ele...&lt;br /&gt;E soube da vida como se fosse um sonho&lt;br /&gt;Sobre os segredos menos secretos&lt;br /&gt;Sobre tudo que me foi oculto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já não sei mais o que sei, pois só sinto&lt;br /&gt;E sento numa calçada para olhar&lt;br /&gt;No infinito a lua que me assiste&lt;br /&gt;Ela me aplaude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já não choro, já não grito, não sorrio&lt;br /&gt;A arrogância me impede&lt;br /&gt;E isso mata minha alma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdão a todos, ó bons...&lt;br /&gt;Deixo aqui esse poema,&lt;br /&gt;Que jamais o foi&lt;br /&gt;E retorno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;À vida que me corrói&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3045698842769255725?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3045698842769255725/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3045698842769255725' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3045698842769255725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3045698842769255725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/03/isso-nao-e-bem-um-poema.html' title='Isso não é bem um poema'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-90749863616898637</id><published>2009-03-12T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T16:28:36.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudades da Cris</title><content type='html'>Sereia rainha, guardiã do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Minha amiga distante, que cativa&lt;br /&gt;A todos de forma bela e profunda&lt;br /&gt;E se mantem aqui, eterna e viva&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dona dos mares, do sol, da areia&lt;br /&gt;Pra ti, escrevi esse soneto errante&lt;br /&gt;Foi a forma mais bela, amiga sereia,&lt;br /&gt;De homenagear teu dia marcante&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contagia todos os ventos, sorrindo&lt;br /&gt;Faz do tempo segundos, compondo&lt;br /&gt;Seus poemas tão lacivos e lindos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saudade de palavras suas sabor anis&lt;br /&gt;Sempre obliquas, porém se expondo&lt;br /&gt;Saudades de ti, oh minha rainha Cris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-90749863616898637?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/90749863616898637/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=90749863616898637' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/90749863616898637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/90749863616898637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/03/saudades-da-cris.html' title='Saudades da Cris'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2220734687578345198</id><published>2009-03-11T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T20:21:20.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fidelidade [ou Soneto aos mais (in)dignos sentimentos]</title><content type='html'>O que sinto e o que penso&lt;br /&gt;São minutos que dispenso&lt;br /&gt;Repenso, e viram um tema&lt;br /&gt;Para mais um infame poema&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os meus sentimentos tão vazios&lt;br /&gt;São sempre julgados por bondade&lt;br /&gt;Doce,  amantes cegos da vaidade&lt;br /&gt;Os corações mais divinos e frios&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Será verdade o que dizem eles?&lt;br /&gt;Ontem chamaram-me iluminado!&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me vivo na sombra do medo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas revivo por honra àqueles&lt;br /&gt;Que não me apontam um dedo...&lt;br /&gt;Que me vêem sempre ao seu lado!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2220734687578345198?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2220734687578345198/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2220734687578345198' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2220734687578345198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2220734687578345198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/03/fidelidade-ou-soneto-aos-mais-indignos.html' title='Fidelidade [ou Soneto aos mais (in)dignos sentimentos]'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2174892595468885034</id><published>2009-02-24T17:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T17:57:55.338-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Angústia</title><content type='html'>Palavras pesadas e intensas&lt;br /&gt;Ocultam as lágrimas tenras&lt;br /&gt;Futuros solitários&lt;br /&gt;Amantes de arte&lt;br /&gt;Guerreiros do tempo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soprando...&lt;br /&gt;Em ruas de cores&lt;br /&gt;Formas.&lt;br /&gt;Formam reflexos no chão&lt;br /&gt;Da chuva de ontem, de sempre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serenos, se vão&lt;br /&gt;Em silêncio e nos cortam&lt;br /&gt;Se esforçam, e nos amam&lt;br /&gt;Os amo, e os deixo&lt;br /&gt;E choro...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por aqueles que choram&lt;br /&gt;Sonho.&lt;br /&gt;E sorrio, pois seremos sinceros&lt;br /&gt;Pois não há beleza, é real&lt;br /&gt;E isso é tão mágico...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vaidade oculta,&lt;br /&gt;Na humildade dos grandes&lt;br /&gt;Nos pisa e eleva, e nos torna um deles&lt;br /&gt;Corro.&lt;br /&gt;O mundo espera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2174892595468885034?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2174892595468885034/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2174892595468885034' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2174892595468885034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2174892595468885034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/02/angustia.html' title='Angústia'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7573879262329630191</id><published>2009-02-14T16:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T18:31:23.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lúdico aos nossos (aos bons)</title><content type='html'>Verdade.&lt;br /&gt;Quis começar assim, palavra bela&lt;br /&gt;O "porque" se esconde nas entrelinhas&lt;br /&gt;[e eu não o consegui encontrar!]&lt;br /&gt;Silenciado em meus pensamentos&lt;br /&gt;Busco todas as razões que me trouxeram aqui&lt;br /&gt;[elas são tantas!] Não existem.&lt;br /&gt;Ó paisagem dilacerante, pura&lt;br /&gt;Imunda e fascinante.&lt;br /&gt;Sabores de amigos, de gostos indefinidos&lt;br /&gt;Amizades por conveniência.&lt;br /&gt;Palavras de duração.&lt;br /&gt;Fatos.&lt;br /&gt;Estamos fadados ao mundo&lt;br /&gt;[...!]&lt;br /&gt;Fadados aos nossos&lt;br /&gt;[somos futuros deuses!]&lt;br /&gt;Nossa superioridade mediocre&lt;br /&gt;Caprichosa, arrogante&lt;br /&gt;[somos tão puros!]&lt;br /&gt;A distância toma conta&lt;br /&gt;Em nossos olhos e gestos&lt;br /&gt;E sabemos que não nos tocamos&lt;br /&gt;E apenas dançamos, essa valsa&lt;br /&gt;Tocada por uma sinfonia ignorada&lt;br /&gt;Ou assim desejada&lt;br /&gt;[sorrimos!]&lt;br /&gt;E nos dispensamos...&lt;br /&gt;Deixaremos com o tempo&lt;br /&gt;Com os vícios, com a solidão&lt;br /&gt;Pois é como disse&lt;br /&gt;Estamos fadados aos fatos&lt;br /&gt;E nos reuniremos&lt;br /&gt;Pois somos raros&lt;br /&gt;[...!]&lt;br /&gt;Ou assim pensamos.&lt;br /&gt;[crianças pensantes!]&lt;br /&gt;E acho que é isso&lt;br /&gt;Um poema sem rimas&lt;br /&gt;Palavras que flutuam&lt;br /&gt;Olhares ao céu&lt;br /&gt;Gestos&lt;br /&gt;[perdidos no tempo...]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7573879262329630191?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7573879262329630191/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7573879262329630191' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7573879262329630191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7573879262329630191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/02/ludico-aos-nossos.html' title='Lúdico aos nossos (aos bons)'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5326590681708699945</id><published>2009-01-31T09:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T09:42:08.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fenda pro mundo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Estou fraco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Inalcançável, impalpável.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Estou preso ao mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Estou firme no chão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Hoje amanheci humano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Hoje amanheci amargo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Pretensioso, ordinário&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Sou humilde, vergonhoso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Sopros distantes, selvagens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Me distraem em palavras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Na janela o Sol, amigo aclama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Um dia sereno que chama.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Estou aqui, sonhando na sombra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Contando os segundos que sobram.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Olho na vidraças a cidade distorcida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Multiplicada e infinita que grita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Penso na vida, nos amores e nos amigos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Penso no quão curtos são e os aproveito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Hoje procurei no vazio, palavras,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;E encontrei um poema.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Estou bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Anônimo e inanimado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;O mundo passa na minha janela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;E distante eu passo pelo mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5326590681708699945?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5326590681708699945/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5326590681708699945' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5326590681708699945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5326590681708699945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/01/fenda-pro-mundo.html' title='Fenda pro mundo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7684766546975166002</id><published>2009-01-27T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T18:03:13.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ensaio sobre a Beleza</title><content type='html'>Entre rostos de uma multidão PROCURA-SE&lt;br /&gt;Olhos. Estrelas rurais, feitos de mel, doce tristeza&lt;br /&gt;É a beleza, da criança eterna, perdida e viciada&lt;br /&gt;No corpo da juventude,  vencida e depravada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nas linhas da parede. Nomes e rostos cruzam-se&lt;br /&gt;Perdem-se e vagam sós. Andarilhos da lua&lt;br /&gt;Labirinto de sonhos vãos. Universo da rua&lt;br /&gt;Vagam entre seus mundos, pisco, já partem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catracas porteiras sábias, escadas mágicas.&lt;br /&gt;Brilham em tons de ida, em tons de vinda&lt;br /&gt;Brindam, a multidão e seus tons de cinza&lt;br /&gt;Que matracas sorriem, de forma sádica&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nas máscaras de atores bárbaros. Um!  ACHADOS&lt;br /&gt;Solitários, carentes, esquecidos. Reis da face batida.&lt;br /&gt;Tornam-se à ignorância do mundo... Esquisitos!&lt;br /&gt;Crescem aqui protegidos... no coração de um estranho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7684766546975166002?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7684766546975166002/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7684766546975166002' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7684766546975166002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7684766546975166002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/01/ensaio-sobre-beleza.html' title='Ensaio sobre a Beleza'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-469809634950072576</id><published>2009-01-15T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T15:59:39.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confissão de bondade</title><content type='html'>Me encanta... e me espanta&lt;br /&gt;Minha suprema vaidade&lt;br /&gt;Meu orgulho é meu orgulho&lt;br /&gt;Minha maldade... é santa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amigo, consolo seus lamentos&lt;br /&gt;Artista, desenho seus passos&lt;br /&gt;Aquatico, mergulho em sua alma&lt;br /&gt;Ácido, corroo seus pensamentos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não presto, não posso e me supero&lt;br /&gt;Nos dias, nas horas, eternamente&lt;br /&gt;Nada me destroi ou me enfraquece&lt;br /&gt;Nesse Deus egoista que venero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignoro minha essência. Construo&lt;br /&gt;Igrejas, templos, oraculos e galerias&lt;br /&gt;Invejo a grandeza e procuro a minha&lt;br /&gt;Idolatro a loucura. O resto, destruo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apesar de tudo, eu me moldo&lt;br /&gt;Àqueles que ainda me amam&lt;br /&gt;Abraço aqueles que riem&lt;br /&gt;Às minhas piadas infames&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Separo-me, depois, para meu universo&lt;br /&gt;Silenciando todas as vergonhas e sonhos...&lt;br /&gt;Sonhos, revelo-os como escritor, ator, poeta&lt;br /&gt;Solitário, cuspo-os em belos versos...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-469809634950072576?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/469809634950072576/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=469809634950072576' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/469809634950072576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/469809634950072576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/01/confisso-de-bondade.html' title='Confissão de bondade'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7390680929840956498</id><published>2009-01-13T17:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T18:06:16.151-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Inerme e Inerente</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I-n-é-r-c-i-a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nos vitima. Nos condena. Nos mantem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Acorrentados ao tempo. Atormentados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Porém vazios. Prisioneiros. Da vaidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nos fascina. Nos preenche. Nos contem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inércia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verdade inanimada, animada&lt;br /&gt;Lenta e rápida, que nos prende&lt;br /&gt;Desprende, mãe da hiperatividade&lt;br /&gt;Da falta de atividade, nunca violada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Inércia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Caminhovitóriadasupremacia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nostornamostodosdiscipulosdotempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Somosseuspacientesdiscipulosfilhosamantes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enosperdemosnossegundosnosmomentosdecorreria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7390680929840956498?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7390680929840956498/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7390680929840956498' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7390680929840956498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7390680929840956498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/01/inerme-e-inerente.html' title='Inerme e Inerente'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6501035293195270074</id><published>2009-01-02T18:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T19:03:42.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Palavras doces e afiadas para olhos admirados</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Respostas ácidas, rápidas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Ouvidos queimados, insensíveis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Não degustam a maldade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Na língua e sorriem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Abraços mágicos, momentâneos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Espontaneidade vazia, fria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Agarram-se aos segundos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Do relógio e correm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Recípocra insana, dissídia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Competição cética, racional&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Gravam toda a grandeza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Pro presente e vão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6501035293195270074?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6501035293195270074/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6501035293195270074' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6501035293195270074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6501035293195270074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2009/01/palavras-doces-e-afiadas-para-olhos.html' title='Palavras doces e afiadas para olhos admirados'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1461935922356149261</id><published>2008-12-26T19:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T20:06:08.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Canção para a vida (ou nós mesmos)</title><content type='html'>Somos as sobras do vento&lt;br /&gt;Que canta por tempos e tempos&lt;br /&gt;Em toalhas em mesas em ruas&lt;br /&gt;Em silêncio, em silêncio, em silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos os doces sabores&lt;br /&gt;Derretidos na saliva das crianças&lt;br /&gt;Ex-crianças, humanas, lembranças&lt;br /&gt;De sonhos, de sonhos, de sonhos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos a soma da morte&lt;br /&gt;Que renasce a cada segundo&lt;br /&gt;Em lágrimas, com um estrondo&lt;br /&gt;Da vida, da vida, da vida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1461935922356149261?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1461935922356149261/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1461935922356149261' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1461935922356149261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1461935922356149261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/12/cano-para-vida-ou-ns-mesmos.html' title='Canção para a vida (ou nós mesmos)'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4136022533728035116</id><published>2008-12-17T18:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T18:15:10.588-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Às crianças do ônibus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sacode e empurra, segura e se prende&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se desprende e esquece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A fumaça, a sujeira, as pessoas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Os pensamentos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se perde dos sentidos, e sente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Não senta, não pode&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Apenas sonha e observa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As luzes, a chuva, a noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Admira a beleza daquela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Que todas as noites paquera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Em sonhos fantasias ou quimeras,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Na sua cama coberto, vazias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Não se ilude, pois sonha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;E ao mesmo tempo vive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Não se apega pois sabe, desce&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Que chegou, e se vai, e não se despede&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4136022533728035116?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4136022533728035116/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4136022533728035116' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4136022533728035116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4136022533728035116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/12/s-crianas-do-nibus.html' title='Às crianças do ônibus'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3107203412076970238</id><published>2008-12-06T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T20:27:22.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Canção para ela, o todo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" &gt;Ela corria por bosques&lt;br /&gt;Descobria o mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ela redescobriu o mundo&lt;br /&gt;E o viu da forma mais bela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela plantou uma árvore&lt;br /&gt;Que cresceu eternamente&lt;br /&gt;Ela semeou o mundo&lt;br /&gt;Um mundo só dela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela desenhou orgulhosa&lt;br /&gt;Seus sentimentos audazes&lt;br /&gt;De muitas cores e tintas&lt;br /&gt;Meigas, sutis, aquarela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela era uma canção&lt;br /&gt;Que ninguem explicaria&lt;br /&gt;Ela recriou melodias&lt;br /&gt;Vazias, normais, singelas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela conhecia todas as verdades&lt;br /&gt;Pois detinha todas elas&lt;br /&gt;E mostrou ao mundo sua magia&lt;br /&gt;Magia presente só nela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela era princesa, deusa, a mocinha&lt;br /&gt;Guerreira, sacerdotisa, guardiã&lt;br /&gt;Feiticeira, ladra, a vilã&lt;br /&gt;Essa, Esta, Aquela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela refez o universo&lt;br /&gt;E nos mostrou o quanto o todo&lt;br /&gt;Era o tudo e o tudo era todo&lt;br /&gt;E ela era o todo e tudo era ela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3107203412076970238?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3107203412076970238/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3107203412076970238' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3107203412076970238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3107203412076970238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/12/cano-para-ela-o-todo.html' title='Canção para ela, o todo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6166130938021136359</id><published>2008-11-28T19:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T19:53:01.819-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ela</title><content type='html'>Iluminava os astros&lt;br /&gt;Iluminava os céus&lt;br /&gt;Iluminava os dias&lt;br /&gt;Iluminava os olhos&lt;br /&gt;Nos trazia a paz&lt;br /&gt;Desprendia de nós&lt;br /&gt;E tudo que se faz&lt;br /&gt;Nos tira toda voz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6166130938021136359?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6166130938021136359/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6166130938021136359' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6166130938021136359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6166130938021136359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/11/ela.html' title='Ela'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3410280749449167014</id><published>2008-11-28T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T19:49:39.764-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Belo ou palavras</title><content type='html'>Sob brisas&lt;br /&gt;tempestades&lt;br /&gt;Em um vento&lt;br /&gt;Cintilante&lt;br /&gt;Viajava&lt;br /&gt;entre mundos&lt;br /&gt;Pelos sonhos&lt;br /&gt;Pelos Homens&lt;br /&gt;Era menino&lt;br /&gt;Era amado&lt;br /&gt;Sorria e brincava&lt;br /&gt;Abraçava&lt;br /&gt;Corações&lt;br /&gt;Doces&lt;br /&gt;Amargos&lt;br /&gt;Doces e amargos&lt;br /&gt;Era o Herói&lt;br /&gt;Era o Eu&lt;br /&gt;Éramos nós&lt;br /&gt;Encontrava&lt;br /&gt;na verdade&lt;br /&gt;A verdade&lt;br /&gt;Que não havia&lt;br /&gt;Pois não era&lt;br /&gt;nem oculta&lt;br /&gt;Não era&lt;br /&gt;Apenas era&lt;br /&gt;Brilhava&lt;br /&gt;Por dentro&lt;br /&gt;Nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;dos que viam&lt;br /&gt;E sorriam&lt;br /&gt;Com suas&lt;br /&gt;mentiras&lt;br /&gt;Pois eram&lt;br /&gt;verdades&lt;br /&gt;E era feliz&lt;br /&gt;E todos felizes&lt;br /&gt;Voavam com ele&lt;br /&gt;Por céus,&lt;br /&gt;no vento&lt;br /&gt;Único céu&lt;br /&gt;de múltiplos ventos&lt;br /&gt;E corriam&lt;br /&gt;No caminho&lt;br /&gt;invisível&lt;br /&gt;Aos olhos&lt;br /&gt;destreinados&lt;br /&gt;Dos adultos&lt;br /&gt;reclusos&lt;br /&gt;Pois a beleza&lt;br /&gt;já não havia&lt;br /&gt;Nem estava&lt;br /&gt;Nem se fazia&lt;br /&gt;Não brilhava&lt;br /&gt;Nem sorria&lt;br /&gt;Apenas era&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colorida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linda&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3410280749449167014?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3410280749449167014/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3410280749449167014' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3410280749449167014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3410280749449167014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/11/belo-ou-palavras.html' title='Belo ou palavras'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5879259261683630731</id><published>2008-11-20T17:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T17:29:49.728-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Futuro Oculto</title><content type='html'>Hoje sonharei com um mundo&lt;br /&gt;Só meu e do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Onde eu serei deles, serei eles&lt;br /&gt;Hoje sonharei com a verdade&lt;br /&gt;Com os sentidos intactos&lt;br /&gt;Hoje esquecerei minha vaidade&lt;br /&gt;Meu orgulho, os fatos&lt;br /&gt;Hoje voarei nos meus sonhos&lt;br /&gt;Falarei com os amigos&lt;br /&gt;Enfrentarei os perigos&lt;br /&gt;Hoje me projetarei&lt;br /&gt;Numa realidade perdida&lt;br /&gt;De uma infância esquecida&lt;br /&gt;Hoje não serei adulto&lt;br /&gt;Serei puro, bondade&lt;br /&gt;Hoje serei alto-astral&lt;br /&gt;Brilharei e cegarei,&lt;br /&gt;Os já cegos, vendidos&lt;br /&gt;Hoje me livrarei do meu ego&lt;br /&gt;E não mais serei pego&lt;br /&gt;Por seres de baixo, nem de cima&lt;br /&gt;Hoje viverei a vida,&lt;br /&gt;A melodia, a harmonia, a rima&lt;br /&gt;A música, a dança e até pintura&lt;br /&gt;Tentarei esquecer o teatro&lt;br /&gt;O cinema, as marionetes&lt;br /&gt;Hoje reinarei, brilhante, no céu&lt;br /&gt;Infinito, serei infinito&lt;br /&gt;Hoje serei o Sol, serei a vida&lt;br /&gt;A luz, a paz,&lt;br /&gt;Hoje ajudarei os fracos,&lt;br /&gt;A humanidade&lt;br /&gt;Os meus&lt;br /&gt;E estarei onipresente&lt;br /&gt;Hoje serei mais que um homem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje&lt;br /&gt;Serei Deus!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5879259261683630731?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5879259261683630731/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5879259261683630731' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5879259261683630731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5879259261683630731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/11/futuro-oculto.html' title='Futuro Oculto'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-73687312572000968</id><published>2008-11-10T18:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T18:23:12.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anjo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sua pureza foi vendida e repartida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Entre os homens impuros e sedentos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;De vida, alegria, paz, nostalgia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Era o ser alado que preenchia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Os vácuos do corações, dos vãos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Vilões, da moral, anormais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;É normal, para quem vive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Da dor, da cura, e revive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;A fé das almas perdidas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Num mundo de desencontros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E achados, infinito, redondo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Trazia aos homens a luz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Mas lhes sugava as trevas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E se tornava ediondo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Impuro, soturno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E já não podia voar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Pois se perdeu nos cinzas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Das praças e banheiros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nos piches e sujeiras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;No cinema, nas cadeiras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E contemplava o céu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Onde um dia retornar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E se perdia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nos sonhos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Utopia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Divagações&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E sorria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;A felicidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Jazia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-73687312572000968?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/73687312572000968/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=73687312572000968' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/73687312572000968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/73687312572000968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/11/anjo.html' title='Anjo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7763659122840186046</id><published>2008-11-10T18:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T18:14:40.469-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Novo Vazio</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;O Vazio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Buscava o mel em favos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Cheios, dourado, expesso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Não era o que o agradava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Buscava o Sol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;A luz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;A verdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;A vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Não tinha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Só o sal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mas nao possuia os temperos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Os outros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Nem o fogo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Só d'outros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Queria o açucar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Era artificial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Era moderado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Era vazio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7763659122840186046?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7763659122840186046/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7763659122840186046' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7763659122840186046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7763659122840186046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/11/novo-vazio.html' title='Novo Vazio'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6092092883016380522</id><published>2008-11-06T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T17:45:06.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Retorno do vazio ao laranja</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A dor que se esconde no vento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sopra as flores roxas de uma primavera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Do coração que caminha desesperado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Por ruas e estradas que levam a nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Entre caminhos infinitos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Entre começos e fins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Seculos e segundos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E o relógio desperta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A vida passou novamente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E só restou o vazio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Resultados?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perdidos eternamente no desejo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Verdades?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ocultas eternamente no destino&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sonhos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Deixados eternamente no amanhã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E o amor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Esse continua lá, embalado, plastificado e lacrado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Está amarrado. E um dos nós é cego.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Um de nós é cego.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;O que desamarrou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E o vento sopra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;As flores voam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E o sol se põe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;O laranja some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Resta o azul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Se foi o amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ficou o amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6092092883016380522?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6092092883016380522/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6092092883016380522' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6092092883016380522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6092092883016380522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/11/retorno-do-vazio-ao-laranja.html' title='Retorno do vazio ao laranja'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8716915786706117285</id><published>2008-08-02T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T20:25:36.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Suspiros</title><content type='html'>Preciso de ar&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;O ar é amargo&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração congela&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;Busco respostas&lt;br /&gt;Não encontro&lt;br /&gt;Caminho ao aleatório&lt;br /&gt;Me atormento&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;Preciso amar&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;Te encontro e sorrio&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;Não obtenho retorno&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro&lt;br /&gt;Corro para o mundo&lt;br /&gt;E choro...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-8716915786706117285?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8716915786706117285/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8716915786706117285' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8716915786706117285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8716915786706117285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/08/suspiros.html' title='Suspiros'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1605535490621681747</id><published>2008-07-10T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T16:55:24.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perguntas felizes de cadeiras de espera</title><content type='html'>Vagamos ruas desertas e sombrias&lt;br /&gt;Reinadas por postes de luzes quebradas&lt;br /&gt;Inúteis, inertes, escuras.&lt;br /&gt;Desejando tocar dedos e corpos,&lt;br /&gt;Sem muita coragem&lt;br /&gt;Sem coragem&lt;br /&gt;Despedaçados nos despedimos&lt;br /&gt;Vazios, felizes? Tristes?&lt;br /&gt;E esperamos, esperei, esperou?&lt;br /&gt;A dúvida.&lt;br /&gt;E me pergunto, será?&lt;br /&gt;Quando perderemos essa infantilidade&lt;br /&gt;Ingenuidade boba, de crianças que vivem&lt;br /&gt;Aqui e ali, perdidos, nessa terra&lt;br /&gt;Do nunca, e nunca&lt;br /&gt;Seremos&lt;br /&gt;Felizes?&lt;br /&gt;Queria&lt;br /&gt;Mas há tempos perdi as esperanças&lt;br /&gt;E não te espero, mais&lt;br /&gt;Como outrora&lt;br /&gt;Como o presente&lt;br /&gt;E ênjoo do todo&lt;br /&gt;Do tempo&lt;br /&gt;E choro&lt;br /&gt;Pois perco&lt;br /&gt;Você?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1605535490621681747?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1605535490621681747/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1605535490621681747' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1605535490621681747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1605535490621681747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/07/perguntas-felizes-de-cadeiras-de-espera.html' title='Perguntas felizes de cadeiras de espera'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4664756979813974383</id><published>2008-07-06T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T19:58:36.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Resposta a "Esquecimento" by Rick</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;E o que há de ser esse misterio sem sentido?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Pra onde, oras, foram nossas horas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;De alegria e puro riso?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Minha felicidade é disfarçada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Minha respiraçao não existe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;A vida toda é uma coisa plugada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;E mais nada...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Sente?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Já nao sentimos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Já somos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Não sorrimos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Entre medo e caos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Flagelos e abandonos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Só insistimos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Enquanto os corvos clamam:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;Morramos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4664756979813974383?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4664756979813974383/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4664756979813974383' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4664756979813974383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4664756979813974383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/07/resposta-esquecimento-by-rick.html' title='Resposta a &quot;Esquecimento&quot; by Rick'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2695799107694445549</id><published>2008-07-06T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T19:52:53.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Esquecimento</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;Voando entre garças e carpas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;nos esquecemos dos fios de postes que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;prendem essa cidade em teias infinitas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;de comunicação e perdição que trás o progresso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;e progredimos para um alem da fantasia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;seguindo os coelhos brancos apressados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;em seus relógios velozes e inanimados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;regredimos inconscientemente no coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;pois esquecemos dos tempos em que eramos cores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;eu era vermelho e você o amarelo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;formávamos um laranja tão vivo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;Alienamos do interior pelo exterior&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;e dissemos palavras que nem fazem sentido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;e nem carpas nem graças nos distraem por mais tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;pois não temos tempo para voar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;e corremos com pressa pois o coelho branco aguarda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:arial;" &gt;e o relógio não se quebra, está prestes a soar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2695799107694445549?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2695799107694445549/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2695799107694445549' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2695799107694445549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2695799107694445549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/07/esquecimento.html' title='Esquecimento'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7852077834336182224</id><published>2008-07-05T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T20:16:06.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Você vê estrelas?&lt;br /&gt;Eu vejo, e elas sorriem&lt;br /&gt;Não se sabe o porque, ou sabemos&lt;br /&gt;eu sei&lt;br /&gt;não digo&lt;br /&gt;Eu vejo estrelas e me distraio&lt;br /&gt;Você toca as estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Felicidades&lt;br /&gt;Eu não, é triste&lt;br /&gt;Mas eu vejo as estrelas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7852077834336182224?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7852077834336182224/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7852077834336182224' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7852077834336182224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7852077834336182224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/07/voc-v-estrelas-eu-vejo-e-elas-sorriem.html' title=''/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1358806769258402252</id><published>2008-06-29T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T19:38:38.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Resumo da obra</title><content type='html'>Olá menino, há quanto tempo?&lt;br /&gt;Você nem sabe mais quem eu sou nem se importa, né?&lt;br /&gt;Esquecemos das noites em que corriamos pelas ruas e esquinas&lt;br /&gt;O mundo só existia para a gente e o resto era sombras&lt;br /&gt;Projetadas pelos postes amarelos da madrugada.&lt;br /&gt;Perseguindo mariposas perdidas na imensidão&lt;br /&gt;De nuvens de trevas de sujeiras e de noites&lt;br /&gt;Sentávamos em calçadas comendo os simbolos da escravidão&lt;br /&gt;Assistindo a vida voar em folhas que caiam ao vento&lt;br /&gt;Não se importaria em revivermos o sonho hoje?&lt;br /&gt;E amanhã, quem sabe, talvez?&lt;br /&gt;Ocupado, sei.&lt;br /&gt;Então temos que correr, menino, o futuro nos espera.&lt;br /&gt;Então joguemos de vez as cartas para o novo mundo&lt;br /&gt;E voaremos amanhã&lt;br /&gt;Por céus nunca antes navegados, por nós&lt;br /&gt;E divagaremos sobre a pureza e inocência de um amor&lt;br /&gt;Que sabemos, nunca ter sido tão gritante e ideal.&lt;br /&gt;E quem sabe nos contentaremos e conversaremos&lt;br /&gt;Sobre a beleza do ontem, o vazio do hoje e a perfeição do amanhã&lt;br /&gt;E sorriremos, lembrando, de duas crianças bobas, que sabiam juntos&lt;br /&gt;O que era felicidade, mas a venderam e se perderam&lt;br /&gt;Sem se arrepender jamais, das merdas que fizeram.&lt;br /&gt;Então, até mais menino, prazer em reencontrá-lo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1358806769258402252?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1358806769258402252/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1358806769258402252' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1358806769258402252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1358806769258402252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/resumo-da-obra.html' title='Resumo da obra'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4911772588801240923</id><published>2008-06-29T17:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T17:42:24.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Minha rua</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Caminhando na nostalgia de um futuro silencioso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Encontrei aquela rua em que nos perdia todas as noites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Atravessei a esquina em que nós dois partíamos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Passei a mão na placa que nos dividia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;E encontrei uma realidade que desconhecia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Pela rua em que por minutos sorri por você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Pela rua em que por minutos chorei por você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Pela rua em que por minutos apenas pensei em você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Nada me fez lembrar de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Só me fez lembrar de mim mesmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;A rua não era mais sua, nem do mundo, era só minha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Foi a rua em que senti, pensei e vivi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Não importa por quem, pois estava sozinho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Só me fez lembrar de mim mesmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Era minha rua, é minha rua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt;Pois só me faz lembrar de mim mesmo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4911772588801240923?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4911772588801240923/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4911772588801240923' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4911772588801240923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4911772588801240923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/minha-rua.html' title='Minha rua'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7679827422549157621</id><published>2008-06-15T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T18:22:42.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Canção nova (ou A canção do anjo decaído)</title><content type='html'>Perdão, oh, todos os anjos&lt;br /&gt;Alados, puros, santos&lt;br /&gt;Perdão, frágeis, honestos, discretos, tímidos, poderosos&lt;br /&gt;Agora me vou, corrompido, vagar pelos céus&lt;br /&gt;Nadar na Via-láctea&lt;br /&gt;Beber as lágrimas da Lua.&lt;br /&gt;Arder no inferno do Sol&lt;br /&gt;De camas, de homens&lt;br /&gt;Perdão, pela minha humanidade, amor a humanidade&lt;br /&gt;Tão simples, complexos.&lt;br /&gt;Apaixonantes.&lt;br /&gt;Deveria seguir anjo, carente?&lt;br /&gt;Deveria seguir forte, contente?&lt;br /&gt;Viverei como os homens, pelos homens&lt;br /&gt;E serei homem&lt;br /&gt;Oh anjos!&lt;br /&gt;E os traio, aqui e agora&lt;br /&gt;Em nome da fidelidade&lt;br /&gt;Aos podres, aos pobres.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, amigos anjos...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7679827422549157621?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7679827422549157621/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7679827422549157621' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7679827422549157621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7679827422549157621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/cano-nova-ou-cano-do-anjo-decado.html' title='Canção nova (ou A canção do anjo decaído)'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2389046073159993420</id><published>2008-06-12T04:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T04:22:22.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silêncio</title><content type='html'>Não falarei mais da esperança, que "enfeia" toda derrota&lt;br /&gt;Não falarei mais do amor, que não vive de qualidades&lt;br /&gt;Não falarei mais da verdade, que necessita de mentiras&lt;br /&gt;Não falarei mais da bondade, que é moldada pela hipocrisia&lt;br /&gt;Não falarei mais dos sonhos, pois sou egoísta no que componho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E me ponho em silêncio, em homenagem&lt;br /&gt;Aos ricos de coração e completos de racionalidade&lt;br /&gt;Em honra aos sábios, que sabem do mundo&lt;br /&gt;E todos aqueles que sabem viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pois a vida não é presente, nem passado nem futuro,&lt;br /&gt;Ela é aquilo que ninguém jamais cita, ela é o tudo&lt;br /&gt;O tempo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E não falarei mais da gente&lt;br /&gt;Falarei só de mim, ilusionista&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ausente.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2389046073159993420?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2389046073159993420/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2389046073159993420' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2389046073159993420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2389046073159993420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/silncio.html' title='Silêncio'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3880874811109195726</id><published>2008-06-10T20:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T04:14:10.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Repentismo</title><content type='html'>Não sei, meus poemas estão repetitivos&lt;br /&gt;E a causa é a repetição, mais repetição&lt;br /&gt;Que se repete em repetertórios&lt;br /&gt;De repetentes que nada sentem&lt;br /&gt;Pois não se renovam&lt;br /&gt;No que proponho&lt;br /&gt;A sobrepor&lt;br /&gt;O amor&lt;br /&gt;A dor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3880874811109195726?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3880874811109195726/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3880874811109195726' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3880874811109195726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3880874811109195726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/repentismo.html' title='Repentismo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3650870505966458864</id><published>2008-06-10T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T20:39:58.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Na falta do que escrever</title><content type='html'>Me flagro no ato de perseguir&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas que em nada me tocam&lt;br /&gt;Em troca de frases ou gestos&lt;br /&gt;Vazios, sim, humanos, infestos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confesso, me preocupar demais&lt;br /&gt;Com sentimentos alheios, mas&lt;br /&gt;Consinto em versos extáticos, ações&lt;br /&gt;E táticas de simuladas dissimulações&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Busco na empatia formas de gear&lt;br /&gt;Do nada, simpatia, que combata&lt;br /&gt;Em parte com a apatia compacta&lt;br /&gt;Na antipatia dos sociopatas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que parte? Não sei, não ligo&lt;br /&gt;Não faz a mínima, é a máxima&lt;br /&gt;Dos que vagam perdidos em limbos&lt;br /&gt;Bosques, de lírios, decerto, lindos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E esse poema nada disse, pois nada penso&lt;br /&gt;Repenso, não sinto e forjo, rimas, primas&lt;br /&gt;De verbos, de versos, diversos, dispersos&lt;br /&gt;E dispenso idéias pois disse, nada penso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E continuo nos encalços, daqueles&lt;br /&gt;A quem proponho, sorrisos e guizos&lt;br /&gt;Agudos, doces e leves que dispensam sentidos&lt;br /&gt;Pois sonho&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3650870505966458864?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3650870505966458864/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3650870505966458864' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3650870505966458864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3650870505966458864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/na-falta-do-que-escrever.html' title='Na falta do que escrever'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6747065885536018636</id><published>2008-06-03T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T20:55:09.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Les Yeux d'Enfant</title><content type='html'>Não encontrei em palavras nem atos&lt;br /&gt;Nem em conversas, nem abraços&lt;br /&gt;Algo de especial ou mágico&lt;br /&gt;Que me fizesse sonhar ou amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas amei. Não sei. Ou sabia. O porquê.&lt;br /&gt;Busquei nas risos, nos gestos, nos pensamentos&lt;br /&gt;E falhei e espanquei-me, me queimei&lt;br /&gt;E olhei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Achei! Num sorriso, numa brincadeira, de criança&lt;br /&gt;Na esperança, de um olhar que unia ao todo&lt;br /&gt;A verdade e a pureza&lt;br /&gt;Aniquilando a hipocrisia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De sorrisos ou palavras&lt;br /&gt;Que chorava ao sorrir&lt;br /&gt;Que me amava e nem percebi&lt;br /&gt;Um olhar tão ingênuo.&lt;br /&gt;O mais sincero&lt;br /&gt;Que já vi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E era belo e iluminava, todos os cantos&lt;br /&gt;Como um canto, que ecoa e escoa&lt;br /&gt;Não a toa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E embelezava o que era feio&lt;br /&gt;E fazia amar o que não era visto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E que se tornava em universo&lt;br /&gt;O que era um nada&lt;br /&gt;Ou EU era um nada&lt;br /&gt;E pois torno em verso&lt;br /&gt;O que era tudo...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6747065885536018636?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6747065885536018636/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6747065885536018636' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6747065885536018636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6747065885536018636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/06/les-yeux-denfant.html' title='Les Yeux d&apos;Enfant'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1638358551872292632</id><published>2008-05-22T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T21:14:31.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Menino</title><content type='html'>Sem pensar em nada ele correu&lt;br /&gt;E vagou pelos cantos do ovo&lt;br /&gt;Sonhou com doces e danças&lt;br /&gt;Dançou e cantou para o vácuo&lt;br /&gt;Saltou e voou para o chão&lt;br /&gt;Beijou seus lábios de vidro&lt;br /&gt;Dormiu abraçado aos bichos&lt;br /&gt;Gritou para os vizinhos que dormem&lt;br /&gt;E se amou acima de tudo&lt;br /&gt;Foi livre e fez o impossível&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo preso a todas possibilidades&lt;br /&gt;E se cansou de vagar sozinho&lt;br /&gt;E foi embora pra fora&lt;br /&gt;Onde a liberdade era nada&lt;br /&gt;Ou era ele, só dele&lt;br /&gt;Ou era do mundo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1638358551872292632?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1638358551872292632/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1638358551872292632' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1638358551872292632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1638358551872292632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/05/menino.html' title='Menino'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6018089278536161911</id><published>2008-05-16T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T19:37:46.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Canção aos poetas</title><content type='html'>Poetas bons nascem do ar&lt;br /&gt;Se espalham nos cantos e voam&lt;br /&gt;Levando consigo penas e folhas&lt;br /&gt;De um outono que brilha gelado&lt;br /&gt;Ardente, no sangue daqueles que escrevem&lt;br /&gt;QUe vivem e que sonham por um nada&lt;br /&gt;Ou um tudo que cheire a vida&lt;br /&gt;E a vida se joga e se espalha por versos&lt;br /&gt;De versos que não rimam e nem precisam&lt;br /&gt;Pois se fazem cantar nos ouvidos dos mestres&lt;br /&gt;Dos anjos, dos deuses, dos eus&lt;br /&gt;Jorrando lágrimas e sorrisos&lt;br /&gt;Em festas e enterros&lt;br /&gt;No tédio&lt;br /&gt;que morre&lt;br /&gt;Contente&lt;br /&gt;Poetas não vivem hoje&lt;br /&gt;Revivem o hoje&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6018089278536161911?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6018089278536161911/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6018089278536161911' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6018089278536161911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6018089278536161911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/05/cano-aos-poetas.html' title='Canção aos poetas'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2543514735882120620</id><published>2008-04-26T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T20:58:32.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pulmão</title><content type='html'>Procurei inspiração no ar&lt;br /&gt;Respirei sem me inspirar&lt;br /&gt;Espirrei palavras em vão&lt;br /&gt;Em vãos epichados pro ar&lt;br /&gt;Inspirei e expirei e nada veio&lt;br /&gt;Espirais de sílabas torcidas&lt;br /&gt;Girando, girando, girando&lt;br /&gt;Não fazem nada gerar&lt;br /&gt;só giram&lt;br /&gt;Palavras não nascem do vento&lt;br /&gt;Não voam, não se assoam&lt;br /&gt;Soam&lt;br /&gt;E ainda estou na busca&lt;br /&gt;Pois inspiração se brota&lt;br /&gt;Se nasce, na alma, da alma, pra alma&lt;br /&gt;Que almas!&lt;br /&gt;E assim respiro.&lt;br /&gt;Para poder escrever.&lt;br /&gt;Respiro.&lt;br /&gt;Inspiro.&lt;br /&gt;Expiro.&lt;br /&gt;Me inspiro...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2543514735882120620?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2543514735882120620/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2543514735882120620' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2543514735882120620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2543514735882120620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/04/pulmo.html' title='Pulmão'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4502020305340140199</id><published>2008-04-23T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T19:03:24.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ao vazio</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;O mundo está escorrendo entre meus dedos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E o peito já não arde ao som das vozes, dos risos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Olhos que nada mais enxergam, nem sorrisos, nem tiros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Passando de raspão pela nuca do menino que sonha, perdido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E vaga em busca de um novo mundo, de um novo alguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Que o traga de volta para esse mundo, ser um outro alguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Pois a taça já foi bebida ao máximo e seca, secando por dentro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Para que se faça um novo caminho com chuvas e sem secas, de dentro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A paz, que trouxe o vazio, é uma guerra solitária de um coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lutando para se encontrar em meio ao éter dominante que prende&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Um ser em meio a si mesmo desgarrado dos rebanhos, dos amados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;E em jogos de palavras e apertos se esquece, perde, se perde, se rende&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4502020305340140199?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4502020305340140199/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4502020305340140199' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4502020305340140199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4502020305340140199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/04/ao-vazio.html' title='Ao vazio'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8427067343175075580</id><published>2008-04-07T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T20:00:44.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baú de presentes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Procurei um poema em meio a livros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Usados, novos, inovadores, livres&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Procurei um verso nos versos de folhas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Achei um carta, apenas, de sonhos, idos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Ontem me definiram com uma palavra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Que já nem lembro mais bem qual era&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Não posso dizer se ela era verdadeira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Mas ao menos era sincera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Desculpa por não ter conseguido vencer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;O tempo, pois ele nos levou ao nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;E agora o sentimento se esvaiu e não teria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Perdido, se não tivesse lutado sozinho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;A paz que resta agora é plástica, é água&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Inodora incolor Insípida, sem sabor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Perdemos aquilo que tinhamos de mais belo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;E isso era o que chamávamos de dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Encontrei textos mortos e revoltados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Da época em que criamos no igual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Em que o espelho era a nossa face&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;Em que caminhávamos abraçados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;E agora tudo isso é lixo e nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;E meus poemas perderam a bondade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;E tudo será esquecido e apagado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 0);"&gt;E nada mais deverá ser achado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-8427067343175075580?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8427067343175075580/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8427067343175075580' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8427067343175075580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8427067343175075580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/04/ba-de-presentes.html' title='Baú de presentes'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-396232071470240445</id><published>2008-04-04T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T20:18:37.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elemento água</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não se sabe o que havia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Entre pequenos e gigantescos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;O mundo corria e escorria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Entre linhas, retas e arabescas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;O lento derrotava o veloz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;O fraco dominava o forte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;A vida derrotava a morte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Num lugar onde o pequeno &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;se fazia grande&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Os sentidos descansam &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;contentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;O amor sempre prevalece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Os sonhos nunca se esquece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Se aquece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Em nome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;da arte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;do belo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Interno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pois o externo não há&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Os olhos não falam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não vêem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pois se enxerga perfeito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;por dentro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;de dentro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;do coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;da sede&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;de amigos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;da paz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-396232071470240445?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/396232071470240445/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=396232071470240445' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/396232071470240445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/396232071470240445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/04/elemento-gua.html' title='Elemento água'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5845302706028630621</id><published>2008-03-31T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T13:49:58.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paradoxo real</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;A princesa caminha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Em meio a um jardim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;A um jardim de gente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E/ou de muros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Gritos ecoam no labirinto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E a peble, que continua a viver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que se aliena ou não liga pra nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E/ou pra tudo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Um mundo novo se abre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Aos pés calçados e distintos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Um mundo de sujeira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E/ou instinto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Que fascinante a luta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Daqueles que vivem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Bem alem da utopia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E/o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;u regalias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Apesar do contraste não há&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Nada que una os dois lados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Pois um é para os atores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E/o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;u cavalos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;A janela deve ser fechada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Para que se volte ao velho mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;De regalias reais, nobres, monarcas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;E/o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;u porcas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5845302706028630621?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5845302706028630621/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5845302706028630621' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5845302706028630621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5845302706028630621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/paradoxo-real.html' title='Paradoxo real'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-896281867027634888</id><published>2008-03-29T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T21:27:56.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Navalha</title><content type='html'>Golpe I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apesar das árvores que já pereceram&lt;br /&gt;Apesar dos frutos que apodreceram&lt;br /&gt;O vento ainda ecoa no vale, dos vivos&lt;br /&gt;A vida ainda inventa velas, pros virgens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nas palavras do menino, desenganado&lt;br /&gt;Se viu, se ouviu, navalhas, veneno, farpas&lt;br /&gt;Aqui, não machucam, não chocam, não tocam&lt;br /&gt;Os que dispensam, pessoas distantes, torpes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Golpe II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nada, nada, nada vive&lt;br /&gt;Sonhos tolos não revivem&lt;br /&gt;Mais, por nada&lt;br /&gt;Mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A distância é o que sobrou&lt;br /&gt;Batalhas pra se evitar&lt;br /&gt;Nos instante que se soprou&lt;br /&gt;Navalhas ao exitar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por falar mentiras que descolam&lt;br /&gt;Sorriram ao disfarçar, e desfolam&lt;br /&gt;Pelas costas, tiras de histórias&lt;br /&gt;Nisto olham e miram, coram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Golpe III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem perceber caminhou em direção&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que tanto forçou a manter vazio&lt;br /&gt;De quilos de sentimentos em vão&lt;br /&gt;Em rios de sofrimentos esguios&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sabe o que faz, pois chora&lt;br /&gt;É criança, ou se faz, nem ora&lt;br /&gt;E olha nos olhos desviados&lt;br /&gt;Por conta de malditas horas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que destino tomou em rumo&lt;br /&gt;Despindo formou em chumbo&lt;br /&gt;A máscara de um resto imundo&lt;br /&gt;Que mais espera do mundo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se pudesse cortar o passado&lt;br /&gt;Do presente, presente adorado&lt;br /&gt;Sentiria que suportar uma ausência&lt;br /&gt;É mais difícil que perdoar a essência&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-896281867027634888?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/896281867027634888/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=896281867027634888' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/896281867027634888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/896281867027634888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/apesar-das-rvores-que-j-pereceram.html' title='Navalha'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6307508862195294926</id><published>2008-03-28T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T20:29:10.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ao passarinho da janela</title><content type='html'>Olá bem-te-vi&lt;br /&gt;Lembra de mim?&lt;br /&gt;Sempre perdido&lt;br /&gt;Em ninhos vazios&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canto mudo&lt;br /&gt;Mudo o mundo&lt;br /&gt;Cada canto&lt;br /&gt;Cato tudo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lembra de nós?&lt;br /&gt;Lembra dos nós?&lt;br /&gt;Sempre cegos&lt;br /&gt;Sempre cegos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo é o todo&lt;br /&gt;Todos lutam&lt;br /&gt;Chutam torto&lt;br /&gt;Todos tordos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não lembra, né?&lt;br /&gt;Mas tenta, zé!&lt;br /&gt;Pois eu sou eu&lt;br /&gt;Mais sério, seu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amigos aqui&lt;br /&gt;Amargos ali&lt;br /&gt;Amores não vi&lt;br /&gt;Ao menos li&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não lembra de mim?&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo, bem-te-vi?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6307508862195294926?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6307508862195294926/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6307508862195294926' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6307508862195294926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6307508862195294926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/ao-passarinho-da-janela.html' title='Ao passarinho da janela'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2896294581818552048</id><published>2008-03-26T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T07:46:18.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baile de espumas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Canção I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;No sereno da noite busquei respostas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Perdidas nas relvas dos cabelos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Assanhados por mãos que não pertencem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A você, a ela, a ninguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A criança procura o colo na mãe errada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Buscando a felicidade num baú de histórias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Mentiras, fachadas, soturnas, normais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Contadas de pais para filhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A vida nunca pareceu tão distante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Quando os olhares se cruzam no escuro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Quando olhos refletem as lágrimas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Quando rostos vermelhos imploram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Escondi minha cara atrás de cabeças&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;De estranhos amigos presentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Que riam da verdade incerta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;No meu olho fechado dormente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; Canção II&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A sua música ainda paira no ar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Nos meus ouvidos parece ser minha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Ou nossa, mesmo nunca me pertecendo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A amo, mesmo que nesse momento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;O aroma doce no ar revela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Que o mundo em nada mudou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Que a fruta ainda existe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;E que tudo a tudo insiste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Mas ainda restou a lembrança do gosto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Das bocas doces, nojentas, amargas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;De tardes que voaram sem fome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Nas brincadeiras ingênuas dos homens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Canção III&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Engoliremos lágrimas de dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Ouviremos o perfume partir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Veremos o tempo escorrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Sentiremos  o todo passar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Mas saberemos o que melhor soubemos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Que saber viver nunca coube a ninguém &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Pois assim desprezamos o mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;E vivemos o que nos fez bem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2896294581818552048?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2896294581818552048/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2896294581818552048' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2896294581818552048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2896294581818552048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/baile-de-espumas.html' title='Baile de espumas'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-3783064877005095841</id><published>2008-03-24T21:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T21:12:05.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoje</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Hoje eu acordei hiperativo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Agitado, sei lá&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Jogando água com sabão em formigas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Jogando bolinhas de papel no chão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Perdemos a linha, ou barbante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;O que queira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Perdemos o elo, a verdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A bondade, Saudade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Será que ainda estou pronto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Não sei, você sabe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Não sabe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Essa tesoura não está tão afiada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Não acha que ela é muito pequena?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Sem ponta, inocente...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Não é isso que cortará.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Eu acho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Mas ao menos ela machuca...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Hoje acordei agressivo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Não parece?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Esquece...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Me ensina a desenhar estrelas?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Estrelas bonitas e brilhantes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Amarelas, rainhas, gigantes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Me ensina a amar de novo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Esqueci!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Você percebe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Quero pular, beber e gritar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Sonhar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Só de noite!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Agora, é viver, girar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Hoje acordei muito bobo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Estupidamente nostálgico.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Hoje acordei colorido, acinzentado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Preto, branco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Amigo, amante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Que mancada!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Não te fiz um café!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Mas tem leite...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Quer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-3783064877005095841?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3783064877005095841/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=3783064877005095841' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3783064877005095841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/3783064877005095841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/hoje.html' title='Hoje'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7623866367580003142</id><published>2008-03-19T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T20:20:33.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Areias</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;As areias estão no fim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O tempo está acabando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O presente ficou para trás&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sentimentos dispersam em paz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A saudade nos roda e bate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Mesmo estando todos presentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Olhares sorriem, ausentes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Então por que não correr?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sim! Sonhemos, amemos, vivemos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Não! Sorria, abrace, reconquiste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A melancolia não pode existir aqui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A harmonia só há, pra quem persiste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Vamos nos reunir agora nessa mesa?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Vamos tomar a cerveja dos tempos perdidos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Vamos correr nas filas da vida bêbados?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E então vamos cantar nossos hinos fudidos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Estou pensando no assunto seriamente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Quebremos esses vidros do tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Deixemos as areias ao vento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A poeira a gente limpa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7623866367580003142?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7623866367580003142/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7623866367580003142' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7623866367580003142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7623866367580003142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/areias.html' title='Areias'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1914113386749536107</id><published>2008-03-14T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T12:57:38.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Song of Growth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;A sky floats outside there&lt;br /&gt;People walk inside here&lt;br /&gt;Something fly on air&lt;br /&gt;Someone cry on fear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strange faces are going around&lt;br /&gt;A girl who stares a flower&lt;br /&gt;A fairy is what she's found&lt;br /&gt;Is it fair to waste an hour?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little birds come to me, sad&lt;br /&gt;Pecking my butterflies&lt;br /&gt;Feathers fall on my head&lt;br /&gt;Fearless I find all files&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The innocence isn't anymore present&lt;br /&gt;The big woman is turning on selfish&lt;br /&gt;The fairy's gone, the woman sent&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's done, the man's wish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stomach has lost all butterflies&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is to much host for hawks&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is to much frosty for lifes&lt;br /&gt;My heart has been cracking firm rocks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky is diving in nightly pain&lt;br /&gt;People are sleeping for retraining&lt;br /&gt;Dreams lost in the scaring and main&lt;br /&gt;Year of a youth lost in chaining&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1914113386749536107?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1914113386749536107/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1914113386749536107' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1914113386749536107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1914113386749536107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/song-of-growth.html' title='Song of Growth'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1628273499492750777</id><published>2008-03-10T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T19:51:52.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Às Flores Secas da Laranjeira 23/09/07</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;O que fazer, como se ter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Nada nesse mundo parece valer a pena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;A felicidade apesar de rondar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Passeia apenas em volta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;O interior, vazio, éter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;As frutas do pomar não parecem mais o mesmo sabor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;A Laranja apodreceu, se foi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;As vezes imagino que foi por minha culpa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Demorei de mais para saboreá-la&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Agora ela jaz lá&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Incolor, distante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas ainda pode se ter esperanças em suas sementes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;É o que vou tentar fazer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuidar das sementes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Veremos os belos frutos que se poderá dar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Daquela tão bela e suculenta laranja&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Que deixei para a próxima vez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;E que de tão apressada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Não esperou por mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Agora me vejo falando aqui da laranja&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Com isso em esqueço das outras frutas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Cores que vibram, formas que brilham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Chamando para conhecer seus interiores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas algumas se mostram tão azedas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Pobre vilã a superficialidade!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Como se julga uma fruta pela sua casca?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Verdade!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Não absoluta!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas ao menos uma verdade!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Pro meu coração &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Ainda cheio das esperanças da juventude&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Pro meu coração ainda verde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Que também não amadureceu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Me resta a fé!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Voltarei para o pomar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Para aquela laranjeira!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Afinal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Assim como as outras frutas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Apenas se mostram azedas por fora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Talvez a laranja ainda não apodreceu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Talvez ainda esteja suculenta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Doce, madura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Esperando por minha boca sedenta de fome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;É tão característico das laranjas querer nos iludir com suas  cascas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Amo as laranjas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Voltarei correndo para a laranjeira!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aquela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;A única&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;A minha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Não irá nunca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jamais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Se perder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nem ser de outrem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Porque ainda mantenho as esperanças&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;As esperanças de um coração que realmente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jamais amadureceu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;E que assim seja para sempre!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Em nome da minha laranja&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Que também jamais apodrecerá&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!-- google_ad_section_end --&gt;&lt;!-- google_ad_section_start(weight=ignore) --&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript"&gt;   GA_googleFillSlot("photo_300x250_1_btf"); &lt;/script&gt;&lt;script src="http://partner.googleadservices.com/gampad/ads?correlator=1205203820578&amp;amp;output=json_html&amp;amp;callback=_GA_googleAdEngine.setAdContentsBySlotForSync&amp;amp;impl=s&amp;amp;prev_afc=1&amp;amp;client=ca-gam-fotolog&amp;amp;slotname=photo_300x250_1_btf&amp;amp;page_slots=photo_728x90_1_atf%2Cphoto_300x250_1_btf&amp;amp;cust_params=Age%3D1001&amp;amp;cookie=ID%3D466a0b6aba29974f%3AT%3D1205181857%3AS%3DALNI_MZkiq31mDGepAcQ79w9t4ujRmvhaQ&amp;amp;ga_vid=557454045.1205181869&amp;amp;ga_sid=1205202680&amp;amp;ga_hid=1392065713&amp;amp;ga_fc=true&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.fotolog.com%2Fsome_well%2F30790062&amp;amp;ref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.fotolog.com%2Fsome_well%2F30979029&amp;amp;lmt=1205203820&amp;amp;dt=1205203821578&amp;amp;cc=100&amp;amp;color_border=CCFFCC&amp;amp;color_bg=CCFFCC&amp;amp;color_link=666633&amp;amp;color_url=666633&amp;amp;color_text=006633&amp;amp;hl=pt&amp;amp;cust_age=1001&amp;amp;u_h=768&amp;amp;u_w=1024&amp;amp;u_ah=678&amp;amp;u_aw=1024&amp;amp;u_cd=32&amp;amp;u_tz=-180&amp;amp;u_his=46&amp;amp;u_java=true&amp;amp;u_nplug=27&amp;amp;u_nmime=111"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1628273499492750777?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1628273499492750777/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1628273499492750777' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1628273499492750777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1628273499492750777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/s-flores-secas-da-laranjeira-230907.html' title='Às Flores Secas da Laranjeira 23/09/07'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7858722917155638425</id><published>2008-03-10T19:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T05:32:41.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salvando do fotolog:</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Saio na rua, caminho pela calçada e olho para o céu!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;'Como é mau o céu da cidade onde as estrelas são obrigadas a perder seu brilho!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Olho direito, e vejo... sim! Ali há uma estrela! Como é bela!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;É unica e preciosa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perco horas olhando a beleza daquela estrela...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Quando passo por debaixo da luz de um poste a visão da estrela que tinha foi ofuscada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Volto então correndo para as trevas para enxergar novamente a estrela.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mas aí percebo que é algo puramente vão, pois aquela estrela bela que tanto estimei está muito distante, quilometros, eras, e que talvez ela já tenha até se apagado...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Para que ficar a luz de uma estrela que nada ilumina?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Para que se perder nas trevas em nome de algo tão efêmero?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;O poste é mais meu amigo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Corro e passo então a admirar o poste...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7858722917155638425?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7858722917155638425/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7858722917155638425' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7858722917155638425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7858722917155638425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/salvando-do-fotolog.html' title='Salvando do fotolog:'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2292578232727944874</id><published>2008-03-10T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T13:41:57.009-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Marselhesa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Fogos disparam num céu em alegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Uma menina procura um amigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Perdido no êxtase da paz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;No momento da mais completa harmonia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Os sorrisos de todos, vazios&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Os olhos que nada revelam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Num único rosto se é pensado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;E apesar de calor, faz frio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Empurram-se, abraçam-se&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Libertam-se de um passado sangrio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;A felicidade está sendo coletiva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Mas um amigo, a menina não viu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Falando de igualdade e fraternidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Pessoas se atracam e se matam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Depois se ajudam e se salvam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Mas é egoísta a liberdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;A menina ainda grita e sorri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Suas mãos apertam as mãos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Mas seu tato há muito que se feriu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Pois seu amigo, eu também não vi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2292578232727944874?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2292578232727944874/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2292578232727944874' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2292578232727944874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2292578232727944874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/marselhesa.html' title='A Marselhesa'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1684686429419266951</id><published>2008-03-09T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T21:11:24.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apenas eu e Totoro</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Por que apenas eu e Totoro compreendemos o mundo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro olhamos o céu do amanhecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro brincamos de dançar com os dedos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro desenhamos pessoas que jamais viverão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro damos sem precisar ceder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Olhar os rostos e olhos é tão simples e fácil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Analisar sorrisos e sorrir sem analisar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Beijar as faces sujas e belas dos feios amados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Segurar uma mão que se ocupa de algo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Somente pelo tato, pelo cheiro, nada mais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro conversamos sobre nada e nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro deixamos a fila andar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro brigamos para ter o que fazer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro sorrimos apenas por lazer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dar as mãos aqueles que rastejam pois sonham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sonhar para não rastejar em esgotos imundos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ser fiel a um mundo para ter um mundo aos pés&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Libertar os corações da prisão das morais&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;É assim que fazemos, sem pensar em ética e tal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro comemos batatas com as mãos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro nos limpamos as mãos no chão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro subimos pela escada errada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apenas eu e Totoro não queremos nos preocupar com nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Porque apenas eu e Totoro compreendemos o mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R9SzXlUimpI/AAAAAAAAABk/kG4Gf4AoHWY/s1600-h/Totoro.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R9SzXlUimpI/AAAAAAAAABk/kG4Gf4AoHWY/s320/Totoro.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175959089492171410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1684686429419266951?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1684686429419266951/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1684686429419266951' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1684686429419266951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1684686429419266951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/apenas-eu-e-totoro.html' title='Apenas eu e Totoro'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R9SzXlUimpI/AAAAAAAAABk/kG4Gf4AoHWY/s72-c/Totoro.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-472473268120090149</id><published>2008-03-08T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T11:49:41.517-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Corrida</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R9LpulUimoI/AAAAAAAAABc/Z4GAjZz3oYg/s1600-h/1123071648-00.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R9LpulUimoI/AAAAAAAAABc/Z4GAjZz3oYg/s200/1123071648-00.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175455908303641218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ei menino! Acorde!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Está tarde, vamos brincar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Não temos muito tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pois apenas ontem falaram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Que hoje podíamos sonhar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ei menino! Se apresse!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A vida está rolando lá fora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nossos pés anseiam, vamos rápido!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pessoas não são eternas, vamos aproveitar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ei menino! Me escute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Não vê como estou com pressa?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;É só hoje que te tenho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Você não quer me escutar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;É só hoje que me tem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ei menino! Os veja!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Eles já estão chegando, levante!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Estamos prontos para correr o mundo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Troque logo essas roupas suadas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pode ser essa mesma, vamos!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Está na hora de voar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ei menino! Nos ame!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pois é tudo isso que já falei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E sonhos não fazem nenhum mal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E desculpa falar, mas tenho pressa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;E você pode discordar&lt;br /&gt;E não importa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;, menino&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pressa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-472473268120090149?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/472473268120090149/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=472473268120090149' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/472473268120090149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/472473268120090149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/corrida.html' title='Corrida'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R9LpulUimoI/AAAAAAAAABc/Z4GAjZz3oYg/s72-c/1123071648-00.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-7474372208300249750</id><published>2008-03-07T18:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T18:27:14.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Desentitulado mas do Du</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;oh. ainda não acordei do sonho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;ta tudo tão escuro!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;corre corre!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;olha! é vc! em uma nuvem preta!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;está tão sozinha, perdida, escura?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;corre! corre da escuridão menina! vc vai chegar atrasada!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;a vida não espera!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;eu vou te seguir! vou te alcançar, vou te alcançar a e gente vai voar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;mas esconderemos as asas, ta?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;ninguém pode saber que a gente voa, vão todos querer voar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;e aí, qual será nossa diferença?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;poxa! não temos que ter uma não é? não é o que os grandes falam?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;oh! é só um sonho!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;tenho que dormir...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;minha mãe ta mandando.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-7474372208300249750?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7474372208300249750/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=7474372208300249750' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7474372208300249750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/7474372208300249750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/desentitulado-mas-do-du.html' title='Desentitulado mas do Du'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4325936881132465215</id><published>2008-03-06T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T19:43:49.349-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mais do Mundo</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Acordei sem ver o mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Busquei atrás dos lençóis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Procurei debaixo da cama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;No espelho encontrei-o só&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Seu sorriso exclama e chama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Sua face toca e grita&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Da alegria de estar vivo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Refletido no mundo de fora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Palavras ditas retornam aos ouvidos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;De mim mesmo que de frente me olho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Sorrio ao saber que me escuto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Sorrio ao saber que não choro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;No espelho encontrei o mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;No mundo o espelho se achou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Apesar de saber o que pensava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Não sabia o que o espelho sentiu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O mundo fugia aflito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;E eu achei que não achava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Que se achou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O mundo achou que me conhecia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O mundo achou &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Achei que era do mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Não me achei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O mundo não era eu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Não era meu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O mundo era um mundo&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/8772194205415545081-4325936881132465215?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4325936881132465215/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4325936881132465215' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4325936881132465215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4325936881132465215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/mais-do-mundo.html' title='Mais do Mundo'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-4779083336474971273</id><published>2008-03-03T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T19:51:19.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vamos conquistar o mundo?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R8zHGBCFjdI/AAAAAAAAABU/u77BNzVN_r4/s1600-h/Arts+and+Crafts+bad+quality.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R8zHGBCFjdI/AAAAAAAAABU/u77BNzVN_r4/s320/Arts+and+Crafts+bad+quality.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173728978112187858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Vamos conquistar o mundo?&lt;br /&gt;A promessa de ambos&lt;br /&gt;Que as nuvens assistiam&lt;br /&gt;de camarote&lt;br /&gt;Amigos para sempre&lt;br /&gt;Era o que os dedos diziam&lt;br /&gt;Felizes sempre juntos&lt;br /&gt;Era o que o coração gritava&lt;br /&gt;Vamos conquistar o mundo?&lt;br /&gt;Era o que o ar ouvia&lt;br /&gt;Testemunhas silenciosas&lt;br /&gt;De um momento onirico&lt;br /&gt;Em que apenas olhos sorriam&lt;br /&gt;Vamos conquistar o mundo?&lt;br /&gt;Era só no que pensavam&lt;br /&gt;O contraste se desfazia&lt;br /&gt;Laranjas e azuis se perdiam&lt;br /&gt;Num mundo de meio metro&lt;br /&gt;Da altura de metro e meio&lt;br /&gt;Imensidão verde&lt;br /&gt;Vamos conquistar o mundo?&lt;br /&gt;Naquele momento se dizia&lt;br /&gt;Aquele momento se vivia&lt;br /&gt;A felicidade se fazia&lt;br /&gt;E sonhos ainda não se perdiam&lt;br /&gt;Vamos conquistar o mundo?&lt;br /&gt;Juntos&lt;br /&gt;Era o que fariam&lt;br /&gt;Vamos conquistar o mundo...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-4779083336474971273?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/4779083336474971273/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=4779083336474971273' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4779083336474971273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/4779083336474971273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/03/vamos-conquistar-o-mundo.html' title='Vamos conquistar o mundo?'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R8zHGBCFjdI/AAAAAAAAABU/u77BNzVN_r4/s72-c/Arts+and+Crafts+bad+quality.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1205154724694486718</id><published>2008-02-28T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T10:24:14.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Utopias Solitárias de um Girassol Apaixonado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R8b79M30yEI/AAAAAAAAABM/7RdCWwXzXC0/s1600-h/Girassol.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R8b79M30yEI/AAAAAAAAABM/7RdCWwXzXC0/s320/Girassol.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172098250927556674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;No vale da selva de pedras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Jardins selvagens se perdem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sonhados em dias distantes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Por amantes da vida, que cantam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Cores florescem reinantes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Entre grades que enfeitam e que prendem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Flores que colorem brilhantes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Olhando  o mundo que voa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Apressado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Percebem a sutileza das sombras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;De olhares&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Oram, pelos mortais, feios&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Individuais, confusos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E Zombam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sua beleza ao todo choca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Lançando perfumes que tocam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Sufocam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O ar sufocante, chamando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Para sí a visão, daqueles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que perdidos vagam, num mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Em que nada importa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que por um amor se enforcam!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Uma brisa as faz brincar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O vento as faz bailar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Tempestades impedem de gritar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Entre flores que admiram um mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Imundo, Mundanas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Dourada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Uma delas distraida chora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Solitária de olhos, olhando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O céu, o Sol, louvando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Gira em dias, caindo em noites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Num cortejo eterno da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Com certeza a mais triste das flores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Por possuir em todo o sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;O mais inalcançável dos amores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1205154724694486718?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1205154724694486718/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1205154724694486718' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1205154724694486718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1205154724694486718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2008/02/utopias-solitrias-de-um-girassol.html' title='Utopias Solitárias de um Girassol Apaixonado'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/R8b79M30yEI/AAAAAAAAABM/7RdCWwXzXC0/s72-c/Girassol.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-6136759446932360229</id><published>2007-09-28T12:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T12:25:09.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apologia às rosas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rv1VCJcH0SI/AAAAAAAAABE/JNuSzj4PPYo/s1600-h/Tulipas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rv1VCJcH0SI/AAAAAAAAABE/JNuSzj4PPYo/s320/Tulipas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115338247144722722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rv1U35cH0RI/AAAAAAAAAA8/nmc_3slphuY/s1600-h/Tulipas.JPG"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Apologia às rosas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#008400;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jardim de tulipas&lt;br /&gt;Vermelhas, sangrentas&lt;br /&gt;Pras rosas não perdem nada&lt;br /&gt;Suas cores podem ser mais violentas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sua beleza é mais simples&lt;br /&gt;É verdade&lt;br /&gt;Não possui espinhos&lt;br /&gt;És desprotegida&lt;br /&gt;Que maldade!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que inveja tem as outras flores de ti&lt;br /&gt;Única que me encanta&lt;br /&gt;Me envenena&lt;br /&gt;Com seu aroma&lt;br /&gt;Que nada tem de especial&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas me basta uma única soma&lt;br /&gt;pra que me cause todo um mal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tulipa vilã&lt;br /&gt;Confusa, dissimulada&lt;br /&gt;Suas cores me cegaram&lt;br /&gt;E seus gestos... nada!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me deixa a vontade de achar o complexo&lt;br /&gt;Na sua vã comodidade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tulipa cruel&lt;br /&gt;Pura e inocente&lt;br /&gt;Que me destroi por dentro&lt;br /&gt;Quando pra mim olharás?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sei, não importa&lt;br /&gt;Tua falsa inocência é má!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tulipa doce&lt;br /&gt;Simplória flor&lt;br /&gt;Me ajoelhei à tua simplicidade&lt;br /&gt;Mas isso me causou tanta dor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos retornar as rosas&lt;br /&gt;Pois seus espinhos ao menos são sinceros&lt;br /&gt;Talvez, justamente por serem complexas&lt;br /&gt;São mais belas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-6136759446932360229?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/6136759446932360229/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=6136759446932360229' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6136759446932360229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/6136759446932360229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2007/09/apologia-s-rosas.html' title='Apologia às rosas'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rv1VCJcH0SI/AAAAAAAAABE/JNuSzj4PPYo/s72-c/Tulipas.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5712352225545215030</id><published>2007-08-24T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T10:27:40.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zezinho e o Balão Azul</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rs8U_M1nLVI/AAAAAAAAAAs/2N5CMWJp9po/s1600-h/Banner+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rs8U_M1nLVI/AAAAAAAAAAs/2N5CMWJp9po/s320/Banner+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102319978844466514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Sol brilhava forte aquela manhã, após vários longos dias de frio e chuva.&lt;br /&gt;Zezinho tinha acordade tarde aquela manhã, não era a toa, fora dormir meia noite, para desespero de&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sua mãe, que teve que suportar toda a bagunça e correria de seus amigos.&lt;br /&gt;Zezinho saiu para o quintal após passar por uma sala completamente diferente da que ele conhecia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não tinha percebido antes a destruição que causa uma festa de aniversário.&lt;br /&gt;Lá jogado num canto do jardim entre algumas roseiras, ele reconheceu uma figura redonda e azul que&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;brilhava da mesma tonalidade do céu.&lt;br /&gt;Quando ele se aproximou rapidamente reconheceu que era um dos vários balões que sobrara da festa.&lt;br /&gt;Como o balão tinha ido parar ali?&lt;br /&gt;Ele não sabia, talvez alguma criança tenha jogado fora.&lt;br /&gt;Ele também não soube porque, mas por um segundo achou estranho a idéia de alguém jogar fora um&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;balão como aquele.&lt;br /&gt;Embora tenha visto centenas de outros como aquele na noite anterior e várias vezes antes, aquele&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;balão encontrado no jardim de sua casa tinha algo de especial, algo a mais.&lt;br /&gt;Sua cor, azul celeste, reluzindo a luz do céu das dez, parecia sorrir meigamente para ele.&lt;br /&gt;Parecia que o balão trazia um sorriso acolhedor, amigo.&lt;br /&gt;Zezinho sentiu então um forte desejo de brincar com o balão que para ele já não tinha nada de comum ou normal.&lt;br /&gt;Pegou o balão e o jogou para cima.&lt;br /&gt;BUM!&lt;br /&gt;Estourou num dos espinhos da roseira.&lt;br /&gt;Zezinho tinha se esquecido de sair do jardim...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5712352225545215030?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5712352225545215030/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5712352225545215030' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5712352225545215030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5712352225545215030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2007/08/zezinho-e-o-balo-azul.html' title='Zezinho e o Balão Azul'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rs8U_M1nLVI/AAAAAAAAAAs/2N5CMWJp9po/s72-c/Banner+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-8575905577280031521</id><published>2007-08-17T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T20:57:33.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/RsZuA81nLUI/AAAAAAAAAAk/HCf0HegBuhg/s1600-h/Mifi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/RsZuA81nLUI/AAAAAAAAAAk/HCf0HegBuhg/s320/Mifi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099884590653713730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;Vaegi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Capítulo III- Adição&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hez acorda rapidamente de madrugada como se tivesse longamente atrasado para algo importante, ai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;se lembra o que tinah combinado com Mih e Iha, estar preparado para viajar antes do nascer do sol, ele&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;se levanta e vai até o canto da oca, escondida embaixo de algumas palhas, pega a sua bolsa como tudo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que precisava para viajar ou ao menos o que ele achava que era essencial aquele momento.&lt;br /&gt;Um barulho repentino chama sua atenção fazendo-o pular de susto, era apenas seu pai se mexendo na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rede, ele vai até onde o ainda jovem homem dormia inocentemente e fica alguns momentos pensativo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;olhando para o seu pai que sempre o criara sozinho, por um momento lhe passa pela mente se seria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;realmente bom fazer aquela perigosa e arriscada viagem e ter que abandonar tudo em nome de uma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coisa que ele não sabia ou não ser verdade.&lt;br /&gt;"Apenas aqueles que tema  coragem e nobreza suficiente apra arriscar sua vida é que podem ser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chamados de guerreiros, de heróis, de homens" tinha dito uma vez o pajé da tribo, e era sempre isso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que lhes era ensinado desde que eram pequenos, mas só agora ele percebia que isso não era tão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;simples e fácil como sempre idealizara... "justamente não pode ser fácil" veio lhe a mente isso, pois .se&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fosse fácil não haveria necessidade de realizar um grande ato.&lt;br /&gt;Pensou um momento em dar um beijo de despedida em seu pai, mas percebeu que já devia estar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ficando tarde e se pôs a correr em direção as grandes árvores.&lt;br /&gt;-Já não era sem tempo- comentou Mih logo assim que ele chegou.&lt;br /&gt;Os dois amigos já estavam lá esperando por ele, Mih parecia que havia acabado de acordar e Iha parecia que tinha passado a noite em claro a espera daquele momento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Você não sabe a novidade!- fala Iha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Qual?- pergunta Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nosso amigo Mih decidiu que vai partir com a gente!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sério? Que legal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sim...- fala Mih meio que sem graça- Mas só fiz isso porque acho que não devo deixar vocês dois sairem numa viagem dessas sozinhos e precisam de alguém responsável para seguir com vocês...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Hehe, tá certo!- fala Iha alegremente- Mas agora nos leva logo onde está esse bendito mapa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Venham.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mih leva os dois por uma trilha de menos de um minuto atravessando os negros corredores formado pela sombra das árvores gigantes, que de tão folhosas chegava a ser impossível ver o dourado céu que estava começando a surgir pelo nascer do sol.&lt;br /&gt;Mih vai até uma árvore que parecia ser a mais velha entre todas e com uma faca começa a copiar o desenho que havia na árvore com uma faca numa tábua de madeira que ele tira de sua bolsa.&lt;br /&gt;Quando ele está quase que terminando o desenho uma voz grita atrás deles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Aqui estão vocês!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os três se viram e vêem uma garota mais alta e mais velha do que o três, essa garota usava os longos cabelos presos em duas marias chiquinhas feitos de cipó.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Que você faz aqui Mifi?- pergunta Iha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oras! Que mais eu poderia fazer aqui? Eu vou com vocês!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Como assim ir com a gente? E por falar nisos quem foi que te disse que a gente ia pra algum lugar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Vocês deveriam a aprender a conversar mais baixo e sempre prestar atenção para ver se não há alguem escutando...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mas de qualquer forma você nao pode ir coma gente, você é uam viagem muito perigosa para garotas, e só deve ser feita por homens.- fala Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ora! Você falou bem "só deve ser feita por homens" e se não me engano vocês são três molecotes que nada sabem sobre o mundo, sem contar que vocês não tem nem iade nem permissão apra sair da tribo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-E você tem?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Haha, também não, mas eu tenhoa  diferença de ser filha do chefe da tribo e eu posso fazer o que quiser, inclusive impedí-los de ir, mas claro que não farei isso pois vocês me levarão com vocês, pois creio que precisarão dos serviços de uma garota, como cozinhar por exemplo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mas até onde saiba você não sabe cozinhar...- fala Mih.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Isso não importa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mas de qualquer forma já teríamos alguém para fazer os serviços femininos no trio: o Mih!- fala Iha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ora seu!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Parem de briga- fala Mifi no momento que Mih lança a faca na direção de iha, que foi visivelmente  arremessada com a intenção de apenas assustar, pois mesmo que Iha não tivesse desviado ela não teria acertado- Sigam-me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Para onde iremos?- pergunta Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Como assim? Claro que vamos atrás dos bouses! Só que temos que seguir por um caminho que não passe pela tribo, uma hora dessa já tá todo mundo acordado, e temos que pegar "algo" antes de partirmos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Algo o que?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Olá- fala Go de cima de uma goiabeira.- Trouxe a cesta de comida que você mandou trazer Mifi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Que bom! Está pronta para a aventura?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Claro que sim!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Epa! Você convidou a Go pra ir com a gente?- pergunta Iha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sim! Você não achava que eu iria sozinha numa viagem com um bando de meninos né? Não ia ter nenhuma companhia pra conversar, pois vocês nuncam conversa sobre nada interessante...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ah! Esqueçam isso pessoal! Cinco é uma boa quantidade, vamos logo!- fala Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Vamos!- se houve o grito de apoio das outras duas garotas vindo do meio das árvores fazendo-se ecoar por todos os cantos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-8575905577280031521?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/8575905577280031521/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=8575905577280031521' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8575905577280031521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/8575905577280031521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2007/08/vaegi-captulo-iii-adio-hez-acorda.html' title=''/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/RsZuA81nLUI/AAAAAAAAAAk/HCf0HegBuhg/s72-c/Mifi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-2882017912882806247</id><published>2007-07-27T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T12:36:48.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Vaegi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Capítulo II- Amuleto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Havia um homem que se chamava Zuvi, ele era bastante famoso entre os homens, conhecido como o maior feiticeiro do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ousava-se dizer na época que Zuvi era tão poderoso quanto um Vaegi, alguns diziam que até mais poderoso&lt;br /&gt;Com o tempo as notícias sobre as grandes façanhas de Zuvi chegaram aos ouvidos dos Vaegis. Muitos ficaram&lt;br /&gt;fascinados com um homem que tivesse um poder equivalente aos deles, não seria ele algum  Vaegi perdido na terra?&lt;br /&gt;Logo os Vaegis resolveram levar Zuvi para Kihiugo, onde ele ali passou a viver e a ser tratado como um Vaegi.&lt;br /&gt;Com o tempo, os vaegis também foram descobrindo e se impressionando cada vez mais com Zuvi, pois diferente dos vaegis, ele sabia controlar todo e qualquer elemento&lt;br /&gt;da natureza, sendo que algumas vezes até melhor do que os próprios Vaegis. Ele também se esforçava para aprender com os Vaegis seus segredos e magias, e assim ele&lt;br /&gt;se desenvolveria. Após alguns anos, Zuvi já estava mais poderoso do que todos os outros Vaegis do mundo, e isso irritou alguns, e ao mesmo tempo atiçou a curiosidade de outros&lt;br /&gt;"Como ele conseguia possuir tal poder?", após muita insistência dos vaegis, Zuvi acabou revelando que seu poder vinha de um amuleto que ele achara quando ainda rapaz&lt;br /&gt;em meio a uma caçada, esse amuleto era um disco com 13 pedrinhas negras pendurado em seu pescoço, e esse amuleto dava a quem o possuísse poder infinito.&lt;br /&gt;Logo os Vaegis passaram a cobiçar o amuleto, e como desculpas se perguntavam "como pode um relez humano possuir tal poder?" "esse poder deveria ser dado aos vaegis! Que são&lt;br /&gt;superiores!". Após algum tempo da descoberta do amuleto, Famka ficou sabendo também de sua existência, e reuniu todos os Vaegis para lhes dar uma notícia que surpreendeua  todos&lt;br /&gt;O Amuleto achado pelo homem, era um objeto pertecente a Galroh, Deus da Criação, que antes de morrer, tinha criado um amuleto capaz de prender todo o poder do mundo que havia sido&lt;br /&gt;dado aos Vaegis. Esse amuleto logo não deveria poder pertencer a humano algum, e a ser nenhum, por isso havia sido jogado na terra, onde ninguém jamais deveria achá-lo e&lt;br /&gt;aquele encontro do humano poderia ser muito prejudicial. Após muito discutirem os vaegis decidiram matar o humano e roubar lhes o amuleto e pô-lo em um lugar seguro&lt;br /&gt;Mas eles jamais imaginariam que o humano já estava esperando por isso. Após uma longa batalha, Zuvi acabou derrotado pelos vaegis, mas antes de morrer, ele lançou um ultimo feitiço&lt;br /&gt;que separou o amuleto em suas treze pedrinhas que seriam espalhadas pelo mundo, e fez com que elas não pudessem ser jamais tocadas por um Vaegi.&lt;br /&gt;A lenda dos treze bouses também conta que cada uma dessas pedras podem capturar um vaegi dentro de si, e o poder dele poderá ser utilizado pelo humano que possui...&lt;br /&gt;-E onde a gente poderia achá-los?- pergunta rapidamente Hez, fazendo com que toso olhem para ele de repente, era difícil ele interromper o pajé- Er, digo, Grande Pajé,&lt;br /&gt;o senhor saberia onde estariam essas pedras?&lt;br /&gt;-Bem Hez, o local onde estão é fácil de se encontrar, pois existem em uma das árvores antigas uma descrição com a localização de todos eles, mas de qualquer forma, encontrá-los&lt;br /&gt;é bastante díficil, pois existem muitos perigos e seres mágicos protegendo cada um deles, e foram poucos os homens que se aventuraram a ir atrás deles, e nenhum voltou até onde dizem as lendas&lt;br /&gt;e histórias do povo. Mas isso são lendas e na verdade ninguém nunca soube realmente se existem ou não esses 13 bouses... Mas isso não importa! Está na hora de vocês irem dormir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Que legal isso! Imagina poder controlar os poderes dos vaegis?- comenta Iha em mais uma das idas deles para casa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sim! Deve ser muito da hora!- diz Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ah, eu achei bastante legal também!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Eita! Oi Mih! Nocê nem foi nadar com a gente...- comenta Iha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Isso não importa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Bem, eu queria saber onde é que tá essa árvore onde está o mapa com a  localização dos bouses...- comenta Hez ignorando o assunto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oras! Vocês não sabem? Vocês não costumam ir sempre lá pras Árvores Antigas para brincar? Pensei que já tinham visto...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mas quem é que fica prestando atenção o que tá escrito numa árvore quanto se está brincando?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Eu sempre soube que árvore era essa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Você nunca brinca...- fala Iha sarcasticamente mas é cortado por Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Que legal Mih!!! Você poderia nos levar lá amanhã?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sim, mas o que você pretende indo lá?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Hum...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Você não tá pensando em ir atrás dos bouses, tá?- pergunta os dois ao mesmo tempo, Mih com expressão indignada e Iha com grande excitação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Seria legal irmos atrás deles, não é divertido?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Você não ouviu o que o pajé disse?Todos que foram atrás deles morreram!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ele disse que eram tudo lendas no fim se não me engano...- fala Iha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Você vai nos mostrar ou não Mih?- pergunta Hez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Se não ajudar a gente encontra sozinhos de qualquer maneira!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Tá okay, eu levo vocês lá!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Eeeeeeeeeeee!- comemoram os outros dois.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mas não garanto nada se partirei com vocês...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A gente não quer mesmo sua companhia pra ir com a gente- fala Iha com desdém.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Então tá combinado!- fala Hez- Amanhã de madrugada a gente sai para irmos lá! Não se esqueçam de levar comida e armas para a viagem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Que????- falam os outros dois ao mesmo tempo novamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Você pensa em partir amanhã de madrugada?- pergunta Mih.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sim! Temos que sair sem que ninguém nos veja, senão ninguém permitiria que partissemos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Então tá combinado!!! Amanhã de madrugada!- fala Iha levantando os braços.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Mas já amanhã?- fala novamente Mih.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-De que você tá reclamando? Você não vai, seu único serviço é nos mostrar a localização do mapa!- fala Iha- E boa noite!- entra correndo pra sua oca.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-2882017912882806247?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/2882017912882806247/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=2882017912882806247' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2882017912882806247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/2882017912882806247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2007/07/vaegi-captulo-ii-amuleto-havia-um-homem.html' title=''/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-5398466955833496391</id><published>2007-07-26T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T09:20:59.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/RqjJwXZIsRI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oBG8cdgi1no/s1600-h/Ulushuin+af+Emi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/RqjJwXZIsRI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oBG8cdgi1no/s320/Ulushuin+af+Emi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091541211492692242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;Vaegi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Capítulo I- Criação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-Há Muito tempo atrás, quando apenas os vaegis viviam na terra, Hiue o vaegi do trovão, por algum motivo entediado pelo modo de vida que levavam os vaegis até então, decidiu criar seres para habitarem&lt;br /&gt;a terra, mas não era meros seres vivos que ele queria criar, pois até então a Terra tinha seres vivos de sobra.&lt;br /&gt;Hiue queria criar seres que tivessem a semelhança dos vaegis e também a mesma inteligência&lt;br /&gt;Depois de alguns dias terem se passado desde que ele teve essa idéia, ele decidiu pô-la em prática.&lt;br /&gt;Sem pedir permissão a nenhum outro vaegi superior a ele no universo ele os fez e os soltou na terra&lt;br /&gt;Logo os outros vaegis descobriram a criação de Hiue, e todos os deuses ficaram logos encantados com tal impressionante criatura que era&lt;br /&gt;o primeiro humem, batizado de Ulushuin(primeiro). Eles também acharam encantadora a idéia de um vaegi, assim&lt;br /&gt;como eles e que ao mesmo tempo não tivesse poder algum. O único Vaegi que não gostou da criação foi Famko, pai de todos, Vaegi do tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Ele via o perigo que traria aquela criação para o mundo dos Vaegis, mas não foi ouvido pelos demais.&lt;br /&gt;Pois todos estavam gostando bastante de ter um Vaegi igual a eles mas que ao mesmo tempo fosse inferior&lt;br /&gt;pois não possuía poderes, e com isso eles se aproveitavam ao máximo do pobre Ulushuin, mas logo as brigas se iniciaram por causa que todos queriam&lt;br /&gt;a servidão do homem, mas foi logo resolvido a questão, Ledam a Vaegi das chuvas, achou que seria bom criar&lt;br /&gt;uma mulher para que assim o homem pudesse se reproduzir e logo eles teriam milhares de servos pelo mundo.&lt;br /&gt;A idéia foi aceita com total aprovação dos Vaegis restantes e em poucos instantes foi criada&lt;br /&gt;Emi(primeira), que depois de algum tempo teve com Ulushuin vários filhos que serviam aos Vaegis com satisfação&lt;br /&gt;Mas isso deixou Famko ainda amis irritado com aquela criação de seus filhos, pois os humanos estavam aumentando&lt;br /&gt;incontrolavelmente de número no mundo. Por esse motivo ele decidiu que iria destruir os humanos, o que&lt;br /&gt;não agradou os outros vaegis, por esse motivo ele nada pôde fazer...&lt;br /&gt;Logo os humanso se cansaram da servidão aos vaegis e decidiram que queriam ser livres, e não gostavam da idéia de ter&lt;br /&gt;que obedecer, eles não queriam ser inferiores a seus criadores, eles queriam ser iguais!&lt;br /&gt;Afinal era a mesma inteligência! Logo os humanos resolveram criar uma rebelião contra os vaegis, mas nada conseguiram&lt;br /&gt;e Famko se põs a dar fim em toda a criação, mas Hiue não quis permitir que ele destruísse sua obra tão primorosa&lt;br /&gt;então Famko apenas se contentou em tirar dos humanos a vida eterna, para que assim eles não se mutiplicassem tanto.&lt;br /&gt;E Famko convenceu Hiue a ao menos afastar os homens da cidade dos Vaegis.E logo eles lançaram sobre a cidade uma magia&lt;br /&gt;que a tornava quase que invisível e intocável aos humanos. E assim os humanos foram levados para fora da cidade e obrigados&lt;br /&gt;a viver do lado de fora, por conta própria. Hiue deixou claro para os humanos que eles poderiam retornar quando quisessem&lt;br /&gt;para a Kihiugo(a cidade dos Vaegis) e ter uma vida eterna novamente, bastaria eles estarem dispostos a obedecê-los em todos os seus desejos e as suas regras...&lt;br /&gt;Com isso os humanos vieram abrigar a terra e a viver ao seu modo, mas é claro que alguns queriam ter novamente a vida eterna, pois&lt;br /&gt;a morte lhes era algo que não podiam suportar, e assim foi que a terra ficou dividida, entre aqueles que preferem a liberdade&lt;br /&gt;e a morte, e aqueles que querem a eternidade e a servidão... Infelizmente eu ainda não sei qual dos dois é o melhor, infelizmente, e não posso&lt;br /&gt;aconselhar qualquer um a vocês, meus jovens, isso partirá de cada um de vocês.&lt;br /&gt;Logo o Pajé parou de falar apra tomar um pouco de água que sua filha trouxe.&lt;br /&gt;-Bem, já está tarde e vocês precisam ir para suas ocas, amanhã eu conto mais histórias para vocês.&lt;br /&gt;-Ainda não sei o que ele quer nos ensinar com essas histórias...- comenta Hez enquanto estão saindo da oca do pajé.&lt;br /&gt;-Oras, você ainda não percebeu? Ele não nos quer ensinar nada com elas!&lt;br /&gt;-Que você quer dizer, Mih?&lt;br /&gt;-Ele não que que a gente "aprenda" coma história, ele que que a gente aprenda com a vida, as histórias servem apenas como&lt;br /&gt;caminhos que ele está nos mostrando, caminhos que poderíamos seguir.&lt;br /&gt;-E porque ele não nos mostra logo o caminho certo, ao invés de apenas nos mostrar os possíveis?&lt;br /&gt;-Porque não há caminho certo, existem caminhos mais fáceis ou caminhos melhores, e mesmo cada pessoa chega a um lugar diferente,&lt;br /&gt;não importa qual caminho siga, e por esse motivo ele disse que ele não sabe qual recomenda.&lt;br /&gt;-Uau! Você é realmente um garoto inteligente Mih! Se não fosse tão chato eu até que gostaria de você!- comenta Iha, entrando de repente na conversa&lt;br /&gt;-Eu não quero e nem preciso que você goste de mim Iha, e chato é sua mãe!&lt;br /&gt;-Nossa! Que mal aducado, haha, você não sabe o que é uma brincadeira, é uma pena...&lt;br /&gt;-Eu não quero saber o que uma brincadeira, Iha!&lt;br /&gt;-Deu pra ver...- comenta ele com desdém- Hez! Vamos amanhã nadar no lago?&lt;br /&gt;-Ah! Claro! Vamos sim! Quer ir Mih?&lt;br /&gt;-Tenho coisas mais importantes pra fazer.&lt;br /&gt;-Ah, você sempre tem coisas mais importantes pra fazer...&lt;br /&gt;-Ele vai ajudar a mãe dele a fazer jarros bonitinhos pra enfeitar a oca.&lt;br /&gt;-Ora seu!- mas antes de Mih fazer qualquer coisa, Iha entra numa oca.&lt;br /&gt;-Cheguei em casa!&lt;br /&gt;Hez fica rindo da cena, sempre foi assim desde pequenos, Iha irritando Mih, era sua diversão, de ambos, talvez de Mih também, embora ele sempre&lt;br /&gt;demonstrasse ter tanta falta de humor.&lt;br /&gt;-Bem, eu também cheguei em casa Mih. Meu pai deve estar preocupado. Boa Noite e você vai coma  gente amanhã? Não vai?&lt;br /&gt;-Não vou não, e boa noite!&lt;br /&gt;-Acho que a Go também vai também...&lt;br /&gt;-ora! Que diferença faria a Go ir ou não, isso não mudaria minha falta de vontade de ir!- disse ele irritado novamente.&lt;br /&gt;-Hum, então tudo bem...&lt;br /&gt;Hez entra na oca, pelo silêncio parecia que seu pai ainda não tinha voltado com os outros da caça, pegou um bolo de mandioca que&lt;br /&gt;estava dentro de uma tigela em um canto e foi se deitar na rede, ia esperar seu pai deitado. Ficou pensando na solidão que era não ter nem mãe nem irmãos,&lt;br /&gt;a oca ficava tão silenciosa nos momentos em que seu pai não estava... podia ouvir os barulhos dos grilos na palha das paredes e de fora&lt;br /&gt;também pôde se ouvir o pio de uma coruja vindo da mata, era possível até ouvir os baixos cochichos das outras famílias em suas ocas.&lt;br /&gt;Acabou cochilando, e quando seu pai chegou ele já estava dormindo profundamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-5398466955833496391?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/5398466955833496391/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=5398466955833496391' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5398466955833496391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/5398466955833496391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2007/07/vaegi-captulo-i-criao-h-muito-tempo.html' title=''/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/RqjJwXZIsRI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oBG8cdgi1no/s72-c/Ulushuin+af+Emi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8772194205415545081.post-1869657200607573885</id><published>2007-07-17T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T18:37:35.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Esse Blog por enquanto é meio que secreto, rs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rp1uykWWU4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/7J073mQmxEQ/s1600-h/qre132124132413241.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rp1uykWWU4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/7J073mQmxEQ/s320/qre132124132413241.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088344969028457346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depois farei propaganda, mas antes serão meramente minhas idiotas postagens pessoais, creio.&lt;br /&gt;Aliás, faz mais de um ano que tento fazer esse troço aqui e só agora que consigo, Mon Dieu!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, sem assunto tbm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8772194205415545081-1869657200607573885?l=somewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/feeds/1869657200607573885/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8772194205415545081&amp;postID=1869657200607573885' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1869657200607573885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8772194205415545081/posts/default/1869657200607573885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://somewell.blogspot.com/2007/07/esse-blog-por-enquanto-meio-que-secreto.html' title='Esse Blog por enquanto é meio que secreto, rs'/><author><name>samukalong</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04379021505232754569</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/SZd36zcMQvI/AAAAAAAAADA/r1gvoxbtt7M/S220/sertao.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HIryQa6vpkI/Rp1uykWWU4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/7J073mQmxEQ/s72-c/qre132124132413241.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
