09 janeiro 2012

livros, músicas e arrepios

"A poem is an organ of the mouth,
a verse I suck and blow.
It sings from my heart on the wind,
it breathes with my life.

I place my poetry between my lips,
like licking my girlfriend’s breasts.
I smoke it like a cigar
and squeeze the good juice from it.

My poetry is a fire,
it screams blues murders.
I craft it with my gentle fingers
and shout it around the world.

This poem is a drink wet with rhyme,
a harp in a rowdy beer museum.
I am a drunk whose rhymes stagger,
my words are music in your ear."

Keith Armstrong

Posso por magnetes por trás das folhas e comprar aguarelas. Só faltará a harmónica e quem a sabe tocar. Arrepia-me as costas.

A boa noticia é que ainda não li este livro. 

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