F**K Me Pumps

When you walk in the bar,

And you dressed like a star,

Rockin' your F me pumps.

And the men notice you,

With your Gucci bag crew,

Can't tell who he's lookin' to.

Cuz you all look the same,

Everyone knows your name,

And that's you whole claim to fame.

Never miss a night,

Cuz your dream in life,

Is to be a footballers wife.

You don't like players,

That's what you say-a,

But you really wouldn't mind a millionaire.

You don't like ballers,

They don't do nothing for ya,

But you'd love a rich man six foot two or taller.

You're more than a fan,

Lookin' for a man,

But you end up with one-nights-stands.

He could be your whole life,

If you got past one night,

But that part never goes right.

In the morning you're vexed,

He's onto the next,

And you didn't even get no taste.

Don't be too upset,

If they call you a skank,

Cuz like the news everyday you get pressed.

You don't like players,

That's what you say-a,

But you really wouldn't mind a millionaire.

Or them big ballers,

Don't do nothing for ya.

But you'd love a rich man six foot two or taller,

You can't sit down right,

Cuz your jeans are too tight,

And your lucky its ladies night.

With your big empty purse,

Every week it gets worse,

At least your breasts cost more than hers.

So you did Miami,

Cuz you got there for free,

But somehow you missed the plane.

You did too much E,

Met somebody,

And spent the night getting caned.

Without girls like you,

There'd be no fun,

We'd go to the club and not see anyone.

Without girls like you,

There's no nightlife,

All those men just go home to their wives.

Don't be mad at me,

Cuz you're pushing thirty,

And your old tricks no longer work.

You should have known from the Jump,

That you always get dumped,

So dust off your f**k me pumps

Amy Winehouse

Esta Manhã Encontrei o Teu Nome

Esta manhã encontrei o teu nome nos meus sonhos

e o teu perfume a transpirar na minha pele. E o corpo

doeu-me onde antes os teus dedos foram aves

de verão e a tua boca deixou um rasto de canções.

No abrigo da noite, soubeste ser o vento na minha camisola;

e eu despi-a para ti, a dar-te um coração

que era o resto da vida - como um peixe respira na

rede mais exausta. Nem mesmo à despedida

foram os gestos contundentes: tudo o que vem de ti

é um poema. Contudo, ao acordar, a solidão sulcara

um vale nos cobertores e o meu corpo era de novo

um trilho abandonado na paisagem. Sentei-me na cama

e repeti devagar o teu nome, o nome dos meus sonhos,

mas as sílabas caíam no fim das palavras, a dor esgota

as forças, são frios os batentes nas portas da manhã.

Maria do Rosário Pedreira

Porque é Tempo de Romper com Tudo Isto

Porque é tempo de romper com tudo isto

é tempo de unir no mesmo gesto

o real e o sonho

é tempo de libertar as imagens as palavras!

Das minas do sonho a que descemos

mineiros sonâmbulos da imaginação

É tempo de acordar nas trevas do real

na desolada promessa

do dia verdadeiro

Alexandre O´Neill