<?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-5425644095422510897</id><updated>2011-06-12T11:17:30.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do outro lado dela</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-3545225556222703651</id><published>2008-03-07T08:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T08:55:43.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Viver tem sido um misterio e o mais longe que chego menor a nocao de realidade. A vida se transformou num mecanismo, a ordem `e seguir o caos. Ou se tiver sorte e vir um coelho branco passando, siga o coelho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-3545225556222703651?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/3545225556222703651/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=3545225556222703651' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/3545225556222703651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/3545225556222703651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2008/03/viver-tem-sido-um-misterio-e-o-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-8823511114393691410</id><published>2008-03-07T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T20:07:19.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>poema suicida</title><content type='html'>Se por acaso nao me matasses...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu te daria  outro bejio&lt;br /&gt;O  meu olhar pularia da face&lt;br /&gt;sorrindo com desejo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se por acaso nao me matasses&lt;br /&gt;Eu viveria de algum jeito&lt;br /&gt;Mas se a morte nao chegasse&lt;br /&gt;suicidaria no teu beijo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se por acaso,&lt;br /&gt;Eu nao estivesse sangrando&lt;br /&gt;Nao haveria a dor dos golpes&lt;br /&gt;Nem facas manchadas de sangue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se por acaso me amasses...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viver seria uma poesia&lt;br /&gt;E  por certo te amaria...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se por acaso me matasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-8823511114393691410?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/8823511114393691410/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=8823511114393691410' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8823511114393691410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8823511114393691410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2008/03/se-por-acaso-nao-me-matasses-eu-te.html' title='poema suicida'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-54660549174236894</id><published>2008-03-06T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T09:34:09.128-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Por que?&lt;br /&gt;Ave Sangria&lt;br /&gt;Composição: Marco Polo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nada de novo no fronte&lt;br /&gt;E na retaguarda também&lt;br /&gt;Tudo normal desde ontem&lt;br /&gt;Quando houve sol e alguém cantou... yê, yêi.&lt;br /&gt;.Alguém de cabelos longos E doce sorriso também&lt;br /&gt;De um tempo que hoje vai longe&lt;br /&gt;Longe do mal e do bem&lt;br /&gt;Do amor, quem viu?Eu sou da cidade&lt;br /&gt;Mas nasci no mar&lt;br /&gt;Tudo que eu quero é cantar por enquanto&lt;br /&gt;Eu sou da cidade mas nasci no mar&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que eu quero é chamar teu nome&lt;br /&gt;Nada se move no monte&lt;br /&gt;E o sol mergulha no mar&lt;br /&gt;Vento e silêncio na ponte&lt;br /&gt;E tudo se perde no ar&lt;br /&gt;Por que?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-54660549174236894?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/54660549174236894/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=54660549174236894' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/54660549174236894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/54660549174236894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2008/03/por-que-ave-sangria-composio-marco-polo.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-7418741645212766956</id><published>2008-01-23T09:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T08:54:30.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Receita caseira</title><content type='html'>-&lt;br /&gt;Para ser feliz amor, nao precisamos  flores no jardim...&lt;br /&gt;Facamos assim:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de noite beijo ardente, fogo na lingua&lt;br /&gt;de manha, beijo com gosto de saliva&lt;br /&gt;depois ate logo, o dia comeca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voce me olha , ja nao estou tao bonita&lt;br /&gt;cara amassada, noite mal dormida.&lt;br /&gt;Assim os dias passam, voce na minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;***** *********** ***********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A primeira dose 'e para ter cabelo na testa e manter o que resta.&lt;br /&gt;A segunda `e para dar moral,&lt;br /&gt;uma pilula para ir ao trabalho como se fosse  carnaval&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depois da ressaca e o sonrisal, 'e a vez do anticoncepcional.&lt;br /&gt;Mais uma dose contra a apatia, outra para estimular a bulemia.&lt;br /&gt;Depois voltar para casa, esquecer toda essa drogra, rezar por mais um dia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-7418741645212766956?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/7418741645212766956/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=7418741645212766956' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/7418741645212766956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/7418741645212766956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2008/01/receita-caseira.html' title='Receita caseira'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-2399417366493359342</id><published>2008-01-15T13:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T13:43:08.958-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A seco...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tem  coisas que a gente só diz de porre&lt;br /&gt;se não o outro corre;&lt;br /&gt;mas passada a  bebedeira,&lt;br /&gt;a gente acha que fez besteira,&lt;br /&gt;não devia ter falado,&lt;br /&gt;que se  expôs adoidado,&lt;br /&gt;à toa e foi tolice.&lt;br /&gt;Finge-se então que se esquece o que  disse,&lt;br /&gt;culpa-se a carência, a demência, a embriaguez&lt;br /&gt;responsáveis por  tamanha estupidez.&lt;br /&gt;E é aceitando este estranho cabedal&lt;br /&gt;que quando se volta  ao "estado normal",&lt;br /&gt;cada vez mais sós, na defensiva,&lt;br /&gt;corroídos morremos de  cirrose... afetiva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:#000080;"&gt;Leila Miccolis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:#000080;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-2399417366493359342?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/2399417366493359342/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=2399417366493359342' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2399417366493359342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2399417366493359342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2008/01/seco.html' title='A seco...'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-5102090952045387277</id><published>2007-12-11T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T11:18:40.578-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Loucura</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/R17iXH8MtBI/AAAAAAAAAY8/Fxvl_k4PC14/s1600-h/8marco_anais.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/R17iXH8MtBI/AAAAAAAAAY8/Fxvl_k4PC14/s200/8marco_anais.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142796711400092690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Loucura&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;O ímpeto de crescer e viver intensamente foi tão forte em mim&lt;br /&gt;Que não consegui resistir a ele. Enfrentei meus sentimentos.&lt;br /&gt;A vida não é racional; é louca e cheia de mágoa.&lt;br /&gt;Mas não quero viver comigo mesma.&lt;br /&gt;Quero paixão, prazer, barulho, bebedeira, e todo o mal.&lt;br /&gt;Quero ouvir música rouca, ver rostos, roçar em corpos,&lt;br /&gt;Beber um Benedictine ardente.&lt;br /&gt;Quero conhecer pessoas perversas, ser íntimas delas.&lt;br /&gt;Quero morder a vida, e ser despedaçada por ela.&lt;br /&gt;Eu estava esperando.&lt;br /&gt;Esta é a hora da expansão, do viver verdadeiro.&lt;br /&gt;Todo o resto foi uma preparação.&lt;br /&gt;A verdade é que sou inconstante,&lt;br /&gt;Com estímulos sensuais em muitas direcções.&lt;br /&gt;Fiquei docemente adormecida por alguns séculos,&lt;br /&gt;E entrei em erupção sem avisar.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Anais Nin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-5102090952045387277?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/5102090952045387277/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=5102090952045387277' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5102090952045387277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5102090952045387277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/12/loucura.html' title='Loucura'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/R17iXH8MtBI/AAAAAAAAAY8/Fxvl_k4PC14/s72-c/8marco_anais.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-3536841004613299243</id><published>2007-12-11T10:56:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T11:07:20.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Silêncio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"(...) Mas este primeiro silêncio ainda não é o silêncio.&lt;br /&gt; Que se espere, pois as folhas das árvores&lt;br /&gt;ainda se ajeitarão melhor, algum passo tardio talvez se ouça com esperança pelas escadas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas há um momento em que do corpo descansado se ergue o espírito atento, e da terra a lua alta. Então ele, o silêncio, aparece. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;O coração bate ao reconhecê-lo.(...)" &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;(Do livro &lt;a href="http://www.submarino.com.br/books_productdetails.asp?Query=ProductPage&amp;amp;ProdTypeId=1&amp;amp;ProdId=47825&amp;amp;ST=SR&amp;amp;franq=145116" target="_blank"&gt;Onde Estivestes de Noite&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-3536841004613299243?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/3536841004613299243/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=3536841004613299243' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/3536841004613299243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/3536841004613299243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/12/trouble-in-mind-im-blue-but-i-wont-be_11.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-2776885619015958437</id><published>2007-12-11T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T10:57:44.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Trouble in mind, I'm blue&lt;br /&gt;But I won't be blue always, '&lt;br /&gt;Cause the sun's gonna shine&lt;br /&gt;In my backdoor some day."...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** ouvindo Janis Joplin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-2776885619015958437?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/2776885619015958437/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=2776885619015958437' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2776885619015958437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2776885619015958437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/12/trouble-in-mind-im-blue-but-i-wont-be.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-5147895639514753378</id><published>2007-12-05T17:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T17:45:56.514-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Once there was a timeWhen my mind lay on higher things And once there was a timeI could find pretty words to sing But now, well now I findIt saves time to say what you mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Divine Comedy,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-5147895639514753378?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/5147895639514753378/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=5147895639514753378' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5147895639514753378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5147895639514753378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/12/once-there-was-timewhen-my-mind-lay-on.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-5970216416039993817</id><published>2007-12-05T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T17:41:22.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quieta, fico no meu canto. Expondo a cara a tapas.&lt;br /&gt;Nao sei quantas mortes precisarei viver para renascer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quem quer que haja construído um novo céu, só no seu próprio inferno encontrou energia para fazê-lo!" Nietszche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto isso busco energias, na tentativa de um novo ceu. As vezes me como Sisifo, que tendo enganado a morte duas vezes foi condenado a rolar uma pedra de marmore ao cume de uma montanha, mas sempre que chegava topo a pedra rolava montanha abaixo.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-5970216416039993817?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/5970216416039993817/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=5970216416039993817' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5970216416039993817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5970216416039993817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/12/quieta-fico-no-meu-canto.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-3623575169963687819</id><published>2007-12-05T16:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T17:16:15.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>frases do dia</title><content type='html'>"Não vemos as coisas como elas são, mas como nós somos."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A vida se contrai e se expande proporcionalmente à coragem do indivíduo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anais Nin&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-3623575169963687819?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/3623575169963687819/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=3623575169963687819' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/3623575169963687819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/3623575169963687819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/12/frases-do-dia.html' title='frases do dia'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-4525574327409151436</id><published>2007-11-13T12:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T13:04:15.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Será que você intepretaria em minha carne crua o meu desejo?&lt;br /&gt;Será que  suspiros substituiriam as palavras?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sinto tanto que nao sei como  dizer...&lt;br /&gt;Te quero com ternura, te amo simplismente.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto falta da tua presença, daqueles risos tolos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nao preciso das tuas palavras, mas o teu silêncio é um abismo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... enquanto isso caminhemos de mãos dadas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-4525574327409151436?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/4525574327409151436/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=4525574327409151436' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/4525574327409151436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/4525574327409151436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/11/ser-que-voc-intepretaria-em-minha-carne.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-2637342271463664693</id><published>2007-11-13T11:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T11:39:34.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"O amante de Lady Chatterley"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;"E, como também ele se houvesse despido na frente, houve um  perfeito colamento de epidermes ao dar-se a penetração. Mellors penetrou-a e  ficou parado dentro dela, túrgido e palpitante, até perceber o começo do orgasmo  de Constance - e não ritmou os movimento de vaivém. Frementes, frementes, como o  palpitar da leve chama, leve e macia como pluma, as entranhas de Constance  começaram a derreter-se lá dentro. Era como o som dum sino que, de vibração em  vibração, sobe do vago ao apogeu. E Lady Chatterley não teve consciência dos  gemidos e gritinhos selvagens que dava - que deu até o fim. Fim da parte dele,  apressado demais, sobrevindo antes que ela acabasse - e Constance não podia  acabar sozinha. Daquela vez tudo era diferente, diferente. Por si nada podia  fazer. Não podia retesar-se para mantê-lo dentro de si até que o gozo  sobreviesse. Só podia uma coisa, esperar - esperar mentalmente e gemer ao sentir  que ele se contraía, se retraía, já próximo a escapar à sua sucção."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;("O amante de Lady Chatterley", de D. H. Lawrence. Tradução: Rodrigo Richter)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-2637342271463664693?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/2637342271463664693/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=2637342271463664693' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2637342271463664693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2637342271463664693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/11/o-amante-de-lady-chatterley.html' title='&quot;O amante de Lady Chatterley&quot;'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-9027622289786370374</id><published>2007-11-13T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T11:17:32.529-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Estranho observar a passagem do tempo&lt;br /&gt;Olhar para trás,  lembrar de momentos&lt;br /&gt;Fechar os olhos e tentar reviver uma sensação&lt;br /&gt;Como é sombrio os quartos que habita a memória&lt;br /&gt;O que foi realidade aos poucos afasta-se,&lt;br /&gt;trasnforma-se em pontos luminosos&lt;br /&gt;misturados e desconexos...&lt;br /&gt;Aos poucos a lembrança mistura-se ao que se parece com sonho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quanto vale lembrar quando nao se pode mais sentir?&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que fomos passou enquanto passavamos ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fantasmas da realidade, hoje reconhecemos o vazio&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto  andamos ébrios,  na boca um gosto de ressaca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L.B&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-9027622289786370374?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/9027622289786370374/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=9027622289786370374' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/9027622289786370374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/9027622289786370374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/11/estranho-observar-passagem-do-tempo.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-8073578307448444477</id><published>2007-11-13T09:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T10:00:32.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>foda-se&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-8073578307448444477?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/8073578307448444477/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=8073578307448444477' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8073578307448444477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8073578307448444477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/11/foda-se.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-556782952184656993</id><published>2007-11-05T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T10:06:52.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>“Pedro não reparara em Natasha não porque jamais esperasse vê-la ali, mas por causa de enorme mudança ocorrida nela desde a última vez que a vira. Ela estava mais magra e mais pálida. Mas não era isso que a tornara irreconhecível. Era impossível reconhecê-la à primeira vista porque naquela face, em cujos olhos antes sempre brilhara um sorriso secreto de alegria de viver, agora, quando ele chegara e a vira pela primeira vez, não havia sequer a sombra de um sorriso; eram agora olhos comuns – atentos, gentis, tristemente inquisitivos”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guerra e Paz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-556782952184656993?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/556782952184656993/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=556782952184656993' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/556782952184656993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/556782952184656993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/11/pedro-no-reparara-em-natasha-no-porque.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-8470506067704115563</id><published>2007-10-29T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T09:30:16.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>alguma coisa, sempre está acontecendo...</title><content type='html'>Essa semana, numa ocasiao muito inesperada, eu vi a vida quebrando a casca, como se fosse a de um ovo. Surpresa, admiração e ao mesmo tempo riso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto eu estava sentada sozinha numa lanchonete, observava as pessoas ao redor e ocorreu a seguinte cena, a moça sentada ao lado com a família entra em trabalho de parto antes mesmo de ter tempo de olhar o cardapio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confusos, todos se levantam. Observo que o ultimo ao sair é um senhor, ele nao queria ir embora mas teve que ir. Talvez a sua vontade fosse comer pizza....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emprego aqui as palavras do Joao Cabral de Melo Neto para fugir desse absurdo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORTE E VIDA SEVERINA (João Cabral de Melo Neto)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...E não há melhor respostaque o espetáculo da vida:vê-la desfiar seu fio,que também se chama vida,ver a fábrica que ela mesma,teimosamente, se fabrica,vê-la brotar como há poucoem nova vida explodida;mesmo quando é assim pequenaa explosão, como a ocorrida;mesmo quando é uma explosãocomo a de há pouco, franzina;mesmo quando é a explosãode uma vida severina."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-8470506067704115563?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/8470506067704115563/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=8470506067704115563' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8470506067704115563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8470506067704115563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/alguma-coisa-sempre-est-acontecendo.html' title='alguma coisa, sempre está acontecendo...'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-2411620880477045220</id><published>2007-10-19T11:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T11:07:58.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Seiscentos e sessenta e seis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é uns deveres que nós trouxemos  para fazer em casa.&lt;br /&gt;Quando se vê, já são 6 horas: há tempo...&lt;br /&gt;Quando se  vê, já é 6ªfeira...&lt;br /&gt;Quando se vê, passaram 60 anos...&lt;br /&gt;Agora, é tarde  demais para ser reprovado...&lt;br /&gt;E se me dessem - um dia - uma outra  oportunidade,&lt;br /&gt;eu nem olhava o relógio.&lt;br /&gt;seguia sempre, sempre em  frente...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E iria jogando pelo caminho a casca dourada e inútil das  horas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mário Quintana&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/5425644095422510897-2411620880477045220?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/2411620880477045220/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=2411620880477045220' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2411620880477045220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2411620880477045220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/seiscentos-e-sessenta-e-seis-vida-uns.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-2003790526764556779</id><published>2007-10-19T10:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T10:56:55.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O poeta inventa viagem, retorno e morre de saudades</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Se for possível, manda-me dizer:&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;- É lua cheia. A casa está vazia -&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Manda-me dizer, e o paraíso&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Há de ficar mais perto, e mais recente&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me há de parecer teu rosto incerto.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Manda-me buscar se tens o dia&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Tão longo como a noite. Se é verdade&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Que sem mim só vês monotonia.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;E se te lembras do brilho das marés&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;De alguns peixes rosados&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Numas águas&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;E dos meus pés molhados, manda-me dizer:&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;- É lua nova -&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;E revestida de luz te volto a ver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hilda Hilst&lt;/div&gt; (1930-2004)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-2003790526764556779?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/2003790526764556779/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=2003790526764556779' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2003790526764556779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/2003790526764556779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/o-poeta-inventa-viagem-retorno-e-morre.html' title='O poeta inventa viagem, retorno e morre de saudades'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-677838475841593246</id><published>2007-10-12T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T18:16:02.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Um homem chamado Alfredo...</title><content type='html'>"O meu vizinho do lado Se matou de solidão. Ligou o gás, o coitado, último gás do fogão Porque ninguém o queria Ninguém lhe dava atenção Porque ninguém mais lhe abria As portas do coração Levou com ele seu louro e um gato de estimação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Há tanta gente sozinha Que a gente mal adivinha Gente sem brilho no olhar Gente sem mão para dar Gente a que basta um olhar (quase nada)... Gente com os olhos no chão Sempre pedindo perdão Gente que a gente não vê Porque é quase nada"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu sempre o cumprimentava porque parecia bom "um homem por trás dos óculos" como diria Drumond e num velho papel de embrulho deixou um bilhete seu dizendo que se matava de cansado de viver Embaixo assinado "Alfredo" mas ninguém sabe de quê.              &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/RxAbrTGeHXI/AAAAAAAAASI/U8UJOxmM5Jk/s1600-h/EveryoneThinksTheyAreAlone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120623206995991922" style="WIDTH: 456px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="93" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/RxAbrTGeHXI/AAAAAAAAASI/U8UJOxmM5Jk/s200/EveryoneThinksTheyAreAlone.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Vinicius de Moraes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/RxAbrTGeHXI/AAAAAAAAASI/U8UJOxmM5Jk/s1600-h/EveryoneThinksTheyAreAlone.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-677838475841593246?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/677838475841593246/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=677838475841593246' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/677838475841593246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/677838475841593246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/um-homem-chamado-alfredo.html' title='Um homem chamado Alfredo...'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Na9-f1eKcEA/RxAbrTGeHXI/AAAAAAAAASI/U8UJOxmM5Jk/s72-c/EveryoneThinksTheyAreAlone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-5005906041373004151</id><published>2007-10-12T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T11:32:08.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me perdoa...</title><content type='html'>Com a mesma falta de vergonha na cara eu procurava alento no&lt;br /&gt;Seu último vestígio, no território, da sua presença&lt;br /&gt;Impregnando tudo tudo que Eu não posso, nem quero, deixar que me abandone&lt;br /&gt;Não posso, nem quero, deixar que me abandone&lt;br /&gt;Não posso, nem quero, deixar que me abandone não&lt;br /&gt;São novamente quatro horas, eu ouço lixo no futuro&lt;br /&gt;No presente que tritura, as sirênes que se atrasam&lt;br /&gt;Pra salvar atropelados que morreram, que fugiam&lt;br /&gt;Que nasciam, que perderam, que viveram tão depressa,&lt;br /&gt;Tão depressa, tão depressa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E de repente o telefone toca e é você&lt;br /&gt;Do outro lado me ligando, devolvendo minha insônia&lt;br /&gt;Minhas bobagens, pra me lembrar que eu fui a coisa mais brega&lt;br /&gt;Que pousou na tua sopa.&lt;br /&gt;Me perdoa daquela expressãopré-fabricada&lt;br /&gt;De tédio, tão canastrona que nunca funcionou nem funciona me perdoa a vida é doce&lt;br /&gt;me perdoa a vida é doce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é doce...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;( Lobão)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-5005906041373004151?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/5005906041373004151/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=5005906041373004151' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5005906041373004151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/5005906041373004151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/me-perdoa.html' title='Me perdoa...'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-6022489886749085969</id><published>2007-10-11T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T22:45:13.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Se perguntarem por mim.&lt;br /&gt;diga que não suporto mais, cansei, que aquelas vozes soam como eco.Não vou dar risada sobre a piada repetida, que nunca achei graça.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-6022489886749085969?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/6022489886749085969/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=6022489886749085969' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/6022489886749085969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/6022489886749085969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/se-perguntarem-por-mim.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-4445017230815002502</id><published>2007-10-11T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T11:25:09.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No final tanto faz....&lt;br /&gt;Talvez na proxima rodada,&lt;br /&gt; mais uma dose...&lt;br /&gt;Talvez embriaguez,&lt;br /&gt;perca dos sentidos...&lt;br /&gt;Talvez com a cara amassada,&lt;br /&gt;sonhos de uma noite...&lt;br /&gt;Talvez,  olhando para os lados ,&lt;br /&gt;eu nao me perca...&lt;br /&gt;E Por olhar distraída,&lt;br /&gt;eu encontre as margens...&lt;br /&gt;E abandonado as margens,&lt;br /&gt;nao me afogue na profundidade...&lt;br /&gt;E controlando o fôlego, aprenda a mergulhar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez, nada mais...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-4445017230815002502?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/4445017230815002502/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=4445017230815002502' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/4445017230815002502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/4445017230815002502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/sei-l-no-final-tanto-faz.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-8247133567425392597</id><published>2007-10-11T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T11:19:40.918-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Acontece...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;ACONTECE....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Esquece nosso amor vê se esquece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Porque tudo no mundo acontece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;E acontece que já não sei mais amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Vai chorar vai sofrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;E você não merece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Mas isso acontece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Acontece que meu coração ficou frio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;E nosso ninho de amor está vazio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Se eu ainda pudesse fingir que te amo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Ai se eu pudesse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Mas não quero, não devo fazê-lo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Isso não acontece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;(Cartola)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;******************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;http://almanaque.folha.uol.com.br/cartola.htm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5425644095422510897-8247133567425392597?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/8247133567425392597/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=8247133567425392597' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8247133567425392597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/8247133567425392597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/hoje-dia-11-de-outrubro-um-dias.html' title='Acontece...'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-451186438742669981</id><published>2007-10-11T17:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T11:18:44.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Querido fulano,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;quis escrever um poema, talvez uma carta de amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Mas poema nunca foi meu ofício, fiquei com as idéias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Pensei em falar sobre amor, sobrou palavras&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Palavras soltas, restou esse texto desconexo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Sobre um amor ausente, que partiu além do mar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"Em sua embriaguez  foi  além do horizonte,&lt;br /&gt;imaginando beijos entre as ondas do mar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;E no vai e vem das aguas salgadas.,&lt;br /&gt;Aprendeu que o mar tem gosto de lágrimas"..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB&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/5425644095422510897-451186438742669981?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/451186438742669981/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=451186438742669981' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/451186438742669981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/451186438742669981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/querido-fulano-quis-escrever-um-poema.html' title=''/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5425644095422510897.post-7871578211869762628</id><published>2007-10-10T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T12:41:15.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial de Maria Moura ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; Aqui um trecho de um grande livro, Memoria de Maria Moura.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;b&gt;Foi um amor desesperado , furioso, que doía,          machucava; amor de dois inimigos, se mordendo e se ferindo, como se quisessem          que aquilo acabasse em morte&lt;/b&gt; (...) Quanto tempo durou?- nos separamos          exaustos (...) entendia que no meio daquele desadoro , que eu tinha mesmo          que matar Cirino . Entre nós dois não podia mais haver solução.          Se ele escapasse vinha atrás de mim para me pegar . Não          ia nunca me perdoar tinha que se vingar desta hora de humilhação.          Era impossível ele esquecer. Agora era ele ou eu"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; ( Maria obrigava-o          a ficar trancado num cubículo e ameaçava-o com uma arma).          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"Fiquei atirada na cama , sem poder chorar, cega , surda, vazia por          dentro(...) não era dor propriamente que eu sentia , era mais um          estupor que me deixava dormente , numa espécie de meia morte(...)          eu pensava às vezes que estava a bem dizer igual à situação          de Marialva , quando servia de alvo ao marido"&lt;/i&gt; (&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Valentim era atirador&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;de facas , treinava, no circo)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; "Só que o atirador de faca acertava          sempre em mim, mas sem me ferir mortalmente, só &lt;b&gt;me pegando pela          pele me pregando na tábua, por toda a volta do meu corpo. Escorchada          e sangrando , eu ficava morrendo de dor, sem contudo morrer nunca &lt;/b&gt;"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;,          lamenta-se após mandar executar seu amado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.moisesneto.com.br/estudo08.html&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5425644095422510897-7871578211869762628?l=doutroladodela.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/feeds/7871578211869762628/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5425644095422510897&amp;postID=7871578211869762628' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/7871578211869762628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5425644095422510897/posts/default/7871578211869762628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://doutroladodela.blogspot.com/2007/10/memorial-de-maria-moura.html' title='Memorial de Maria Moura ...'/><author><name>ela disse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16557295868950512639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
