<?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-19809061</id><updated>2012-01-17T16:17:32.650-02:00</updated><category term='arco-iris'/><category term='#ripglauco'/><category term='al gore'/><category term='gummy bears'/><category term='Kurt Cobain'/><category term='skype'/><category term='twins'/><category term='psicanálise'/><category term='geografia'/><category term='pope'/><category term='virginity pop cherry cherry falls'/><category term='united nations'/><category term='siamese'/><category term='oasisaudades'/><category term='Dangerous'/><category term='womanizer'/><category term='one world'/><category term='un'/><category term='Thriller'/><category term='christ'/><category term='geyse'/><category term='facebook'/><category term='oasisforever'/><category term='boludo pelotudo perdedor loser'/><category term='messenger'/><category term='coisascabeludas'/><category term='brothers sisters personal family i chose'/><category term='90s'/><category term='In the closet'/><category term='jesus'/><category term='vestido vermelho'/><category term='cabeludo'/><category term='uniban'/><category term='Coquetel Molotov'/><category term='Heal the World'/><category term='yeswecan'/><category term='taliban'/><category term='elenor rigby father mckenzie norweagean wood beatles prodigy'/><category term='obama'/><category term='Glauco'/><category term='church'/><category term='boxxy'/><category term='long hair'/><category term='cabeluda'/><category term='ipod'/><category term='what if'/><category term='impunidade'/><category term='feminismo'/><category term='Black or White'/><category term='garfield'/><category term='Michael Jackson'/><category term='oasis'/><category term='love'/><category term='pangeia'/><title type='text'>Mayfly on a Sunday afternoon</title><subtitle type='html'>My writngs and thoughts.
Minhas escrituras e pensamentos.
Mis escrituras y pensamientos.
Mine brev ov tanker.
Neveshteha va afkare man.
Mitt skrivande och mina tankar.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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>205</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19809061.post-6658268226677248331</id><published>2010-11-14T00:16:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T00:17:46.856-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Marte 2220 (confições de um jóvem humano-marciano de 27 anos-marte(50 anos terra) )</title><content type='html'>&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;                      . Faz 200 anos que a humanidade começou a imigrar para Marte.Nas aulas de história ensinam que os primeiros&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       terrestres a vir aqui iam e não voltavam mais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       .A sociedade marciana foi criada com a base da união das raças,crenças e idiomas,isso foi levado tão a serio que o idio&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       ma oficial de Marte é o "Esperanto".Claro que o sotaque e as expressões variam de acordo com o país natal e as origens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                      .O hino planetário de Marte é "Is there life on Mars" de David Bowie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       .Meu bisavô me contou que quando o primeiro marciano-humano que nasceu foi considerado uma conquista,o nome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       dele era Marvin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                     . As crinças,hoje, não acreditam que os humanos um dia habitavam a Terra.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6658268226677248331?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6658268226677248331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6658268226677248331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6658268226677248331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6658268226677248331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2010/11/marte-2220-conficoes-de-um-jovem-humano.html' title='Marte 2220 (confições de um jóvem humano-marciano de 27 anos-marte(50 anos terra) )'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7974905514422700785</id><published>2010-03-12T13:13:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T13:26:43.367-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='impunidade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Glauco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='#ripglauco'/><title type='text'>Geraldão</title><content type='html'>Um lugar onde alguem tem de tudo&lt;br /&gt;É um sinal que a outra não tem nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um lugar que as verdades são feitas a base de mentiras&lt;br /&gt;É sinal de ditadura é sinal de repressão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando morre uma pessoa inocente&lt;br /&gt;Pelo revolver da uma vítima esfomeada&lt;br /&gt;É sinal que o governo não deu certo,é sinal que ainda temos que aprender a votar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando um mauricinho de classe media alta mata&lt;br /&gt;E sua mãe acha que ele não teve culpa&lt;br /&gt;É sinal que é hora  de  encontrar um bode espiatório&lt;br /&gt;Continuar o genocidio dos anjos negros da terra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foi tudo isso que aprendi com você&lt;br /&gt;Foi o que eu lí no jornal&lt;br /&gt;Naquela tira do "Geraldão"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7974905514422700785?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7974905514422700785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7974905514422700785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7974905514422700785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7974905514422700785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2010/03/geraldao.html' title='Geraldão'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2260192074910409725</id><published>2010-03-11T17:38:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T17:52:15.012-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Teenage girl,6am</title><content type='html'>6am not again&lt;br /&gt;Oh no don´t make me leave this bed&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when it´s 6am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i am too tall&lt;br /&gt;If i am too short&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i am too smart&lt;div&gt;If i´m not that bright&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate it when it´s 6 am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If my hair´s too long &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i have no hair &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i am too fat&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i am to thin &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There should never be a 6 am &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i am too black&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i am too white&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i can´t see too far &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i have to wear glasses&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don´t  want to be there on time &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just can´t face them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If the boys like me,girls really hate me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And if I like girls,people just can´t face me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i say things people don´t know,yet &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i ask questions,I shouldn´t have any doubts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If my teeth are too big &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i have to  wear braces &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They are never satisfied!&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/19809061-2260192074910409725?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2260192074910409725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2260192074910409725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2260192074910409725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2260192074910409725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2010/03/teenage-girl6am.html' title='Teenage girl,6am'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5403051489875547889</id><published>2010-01-27T16:07:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T16:17:30.567-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Um juramento para Leo Alsina</title><content type='html'>O tempo passa tão rápido&lt;br /&gt;E a saudade fica&lt;br /&gt;Dos anos que passaram&lt;br /&gt;Dos anos que passamos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Será que você sabe&lt;br /&gt;O quanto que pra min  significa&lt;br /&gt;As horas que passei junto  com você&lt;br /&gt;Pois agora sou tudo que você me fez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nas minhas decisões&lt;br /&gt;E todos os sentidos&lt;br /&gt;No meu coração o tempo&lt;br /&gt;Que passei contigo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5403051489875547889?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5403051489875547889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5403051489875547889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5403051489875547889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5403051489875547889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2010/01/um-juramento-para-leo-alsina.html' title='Um juramento para Leo Alsina'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5254245256127535532</id><published>2009-11-26T15:44:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T15:54:36.236-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mi más íntimo deseo</title><content type='html'>Solo diós sabe&lt;br /&gt;Como es dificil verte&lt;br /&gt;Y no mirar de lado&lt;br /&gt;Como es dificil&lt;br /&gt;Saludarte&lt;br /&gt;Como hago a qualquier extraño&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pues te quise mucho&lt;br /&gt;Pues te amé demaciado&lt;br /&gt;Y me traicionaste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hora quiero que te submetas a mi&lt;br /&gt;Adorame como diosa&lt;br /&gt;Quiero que seas mi esclavo&lt;br /&gt;Que siempre sufras por mi&lt;br /&gt;Que me quieras como nunca quisistes a nadie&lt;br /&gt;Que de ahora en adelante a nadie más puedas querer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5254245256127535532?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5254245256127535532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5254245256127535532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5254245256127535532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5254245256127535532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/11/mi-mas-intimo-deseo.html' title='Mi más íntimo deseo'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1399718562716291998</id><published>2009-11-10T21:25:00.006-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T23:07:40.768-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taliban'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminismo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='geyse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vestido vermelho'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='uniban'/><title type='text'>If you wear red tonight (The Geyse factor)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;                                      Tudo por causa  de um vestidinho vermelho. Uma linda garota, jovem, loira e sexy, foi hostilizada por todos os alunos da universidade onde estudava. Ela só,contra uma horda de covardes.&lt;br /&gt;                                     As mulheres fizeram isto porque nunca terão um milésimo da beleza dela. Beleza que certamente dará a Geyse bem mais oportunidades na vida do que aquelas mulheres irão ter, por serem feias. Todos nós sabemos a verdade nua e crua, a beleza conta muito. Os homens fizeram isto, por falta de falo. Por vergonha de pelo menos sair do armario e realmente se assumirem. A maioria destes pseudo-homens, quase meninos, queriam muito estar usando "aquele" vestido vermelho. Porem eles não teriam a macheza de sair de casa vestidos assim. Afinal,homem que é &lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class=" on down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_JustifyLeft" title="Alinhar à esquerda" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 10);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Alinhar à esquerda" class="gl_align_left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;homem,tem que ser muito homem para se vestir de mulher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raul Luna ,vocalista do Saltos Ornamentais,maior expositor da cultura musical pernambucana,quando viu o vídeo não deixou de comentar:"- Não vamos fingir que isso nao aconteceu antes.A criança que que outrora sofreu bullying, quando era apenas uma criança, hoje gosta de Metronomy e usa Tenis Neon. Em outras palavras, um ônus para a sociedade. Ações, diretrizes, mesas redondas... alguma coisa pode ser feita para deter o bullying nas escolas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                    Agora vamos acordar deste sonho magnífico de pensar que o Brasil é um pais aberto sexualmente. Não é. É uma falsa hipersexualização de fachada. Não estamos satisfeitos sexualmente. Nós, mulheres, temos bem menos liberdade que os homens. Apesar de recente aberturas, ainda existe, sim, preconceito contra homossexuais.&lt;br /&gt;                                   &lt;br /&gt;                                  Somos piores que alguns países muçulmanos, pelo fato de dizermos que somos algo que na verdade não somos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                    Geyse foi a bomba que faltava explodir, nas nossas caras, pra nos mostrar quem é a verdadeira juventude brasileira.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                  Pelo menos agora, vamos nos mobilizar contra isso.&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/19809061-1399718562716291998?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1399718562716291998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1399718562716291998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1399718562716291998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1399718562716291998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/11/if-you-wear-red-tonight-geyse-factor.html' title='If you wear red tonight (The Geyse factor)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-9013141181716921185</id><published>2009-11-09T20:57:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T21:04:36.098-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='psicanálise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pangeia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arco-iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='al gore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='geografia'/><title type='text'>A psicanálise do meu mapa</title><content type='html'>Não tenho medo do meu mapa&lt;br /&gt;Tenho minhas protuberancias&lt;br /&gt;E minhas falhas&lt;br /&gt;Tenho rios,lagos&lt;br /&gt;E oceanos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se alguma vez eu tive seca&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu tenho chuva&lt;br /&gt;Se alguma vez eu tive tempestades&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu tenho um  arco-iris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se um dia já fui ilha&lt;br /&gt;Terremotos já me levaram até o continente&lt;br /&gt;E sigo minha sina&lt;br /&gt;Para ser Pangeia denovo&lt;br /&gt;Com outros continentes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-9013141181716921185?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/9013141181716921185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=9013141181716921185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9013141181716921185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9013141181716921185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/11/psicanalise-do-meu-mapa.html' title='A psicanálise do meu mapa'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7129193345534782642</id><published>2009-10-25T03:08:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T03:23:58.109-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Besta</title><content type='html'>Ter um besta&lt;br /&gt;Na minha mão&lt;br /&gt;Me faz preferir a solidão&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo se sente anestesiado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não quero mais você por ter&lt;br /&gt;Quero alguem que me faça bem&lt;br /&gt;Cansei&lt;br /&gt;Quero alguem&lt;br /&gt;Que me faça sentir&lt;br /&gt;A força de existir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você me compra presentes&lt;br /&gt;E me leva a restaurantes caros&lt;br /&gt;Me usava como se eu fosse um carro&lt;br /&gt;Que você diz que me  tem&lt;br /&gt;E me guarda&lt;br /&gt;Porem pelo seu orgulho, enferrujei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para me amar não precisa&lt;br /&gt;Gastar nem um centavo&lt;br /&gt;Me diga o que você gosta&lt;br /&gt;Que eu faço&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7129193345534782642?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7129193345534782642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7129193345534782642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7129193345534782642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7129193345534782642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/10/besta.html' title='Besta'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2965396955662806553</id><published>2009-10-07T23:41:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T00:14:39.308-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jesus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christ'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yeswecan'/><title type='text'>João XXIV, o nosso papa!(Baseado em um sonho)</title><content type='html'>Mudanças do Papa João XXIV,a salvação da igreja católica :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-O Vaticano ,deixará de ser a Santa Sé.De hoje em diante ,a Santa Sé ,será ,o coração de cada um de nós.&lt;br /&gt;-O homossexualismo será abertamente aceito.&lt;br /&gt;-Padres poderam se casar.&lt;br /&gt;-Mulheres tambem poderam ser padres;&lt;br /&gt;-Será criado o "Museu Memorial Vítimas da Inquisição";&lt;br /&gt;-Todos aqueles que tiverem algum ancestral que foi convertido forçosamente ao catolicismo,poderá,se quiser,voltar ao seu credo original.&lt;br /&gt;-Aceitação dos Evangelhos Apócrifos como parte oficial da Bíblia.&lt;br /&gt;-Menos ênfase na morte de Jesus.E mais ênfase em sua vida,missão e ressureisão .&lt;br /&gt;-Sexo antes do casamento, só será permitido se for seguro.&lt;br /&gt;-Trabalhos com comunidades populares como parte oficial da Religião Católica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decisões que serão tomadas em um futuro em que todos sonhamos no "Concilio de Amsterdam"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2965396955662806553?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2965396955662806553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2965396955662806553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2965396955662806553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2965396955662806553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/10/joao-xxiv-o-nosso-papabaseado-em-um.html' title='João XXIV, o nosso papa!(Baseado em um sonho)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7000014002152734527</id><published>2009-09-11T02:24:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T02:05:05.517-02:00</updated><title type='text'>For Erwin</title><content type='html'>In another dimension&lt;br /&gt;We are having  the life&lt;br /&gt;That we want&lt;br /&gt;I can see you wearing&lt;br /&gt;Your fancy hat &lt;br /&gt;As hot and smart as Schrödinger´s cat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving you and not catching your eye&lt;br /&gt;Feels like quantum suicide&lt;br /&gt;Hugh and Bryce&lt;br /&gt;Once told me&lt;br /&gt;Physics always has a bit of philosophy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7000014002152734527?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dingers_Cat' title='For Erwin'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7000014002152734527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7000014002152734527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7000014002152734527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7000014002152734527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/09/for-erwin.html' title='For Erwin'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6751991326991252706</id><published>2009-08-31T23:30:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T02:03:20.889-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cabeludo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cabeluda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coisascabeludas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='long hair'/><title type='text'>D.D. Initials</title><content type='html'>Do never cut your hair&lt;br /&gt;Please let it go&lt;br /&gt;I want it to be long in the dark&lt;br /&gt;Please let it grow&lt;br /&gt;Just wanna sense your smell&lt;br /&gt;And feel you for who you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me braid your hair&lt;br /&gt;Gently,as I did it&lt;br /&gt;The last time&lt;br /&gt;We where in the room,together&lt;br /&gt;On that special afternoon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no sound outside&lt;br /&gt;The wind was passing by&lt;br /&gt;Your body I could touch&lt;br /&gt;I wanted it for so long&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So promise me as long as time goes&lt;br /&gt;Let it grow long&lt;br /&gt;Please let it grow&lt;br /&gt;To me,I know,It belongs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6751991326991252706?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6751991326991252706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6751991326991252706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6751991326991252706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6751991326991252706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/08/dd.html' title='D.D. Initials'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3177617603479637958</id><published>2009-08-28T19:30:00.012-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T20:23:10.173-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oasisforever'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oasisaudades'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oasis'/><title type='text'>Viver para sempre (Para Oasis)</title><content type='html'>Me lembro da primeira vez que escutei Oasis.Eu ainda morava em Buenos Aires e tinha 10 anos de idade em 1994.Naquela época eu achava que o mundo do rock nunca iria ter uma revolução maior que o "Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band".Eu não me identificava com nada novo que rolava nas radios como Mike and the Mechanics,e ainda estava de luto pela morte de Kurt Cobain.Só via pela minha frente um horrivel marasmo musical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                      Porem,naquela tarde de Sábado,foi diferente,escutei os primeiros acordes de Life Forever,e senti os pêlos do meu braço arrepiarem,e um sentimento como se os Beatles tivessem voltando.Parei naquela rádio,como se o mundo tivesse parado,queria saber o nome daquela banda!A cada música que tocava eu ficava mais maravilhada,era como se fosse a chegada de uma revolução musical.Confesso que me emocionei.Queria saber tudo sobre aquela banda que prometia que seria os novos Beatles,eu tinha certeza que eles seriam.No outro dia,um Domingo fui logo comprando o cd "Definitly Maybe".Comprei revistas de música e nunca mais troquei de estação de rádio,para saber cada vez mais sobre a banda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    Soube que o nome do estilo que eles tocavam era "Indie",e comecei a me identificar assim daquele dia em diante.Na Segunda-Feira,coincidentemente,começamos a ter aulas sobre educação sexual na escola.Aprendemos mais sobre a vargina,descubrimos o clitóris,camisinhas e a menstruação.Oasis foi praticamente a trilha sonora daquela aula.No recreio falei para as minhas colegas sobre a banda,ensinei a elas como cantar as músicas e no fim da aula foram todas para minha casa escutar "Definitly Maybe".Achamos graça de "Supersonic",cantamos "Digsy´s Dinner",na hora do almoço,que era lasanha, dançamos "Shakermaker,e ficavamos curiosas com "Cigarrets and Alcohol".Naquela segunda-feira,acho que adolescí.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    Nas minhas ferias no Brasil,naquele ano apresentei a banda pros meus primos,que ficaram hipnotisados,especialmente o Tiago,que ganhou o apelido de "OasisBoy".&lt;br /&gt;                     Em 1995 chegou "What´s the Story Morning Glory",fiquei maravilhada!Achei bem melhor que o "Definitly Maybe".E nesse ano instalaram a internet na minha casa.Achei incrível,tinha todas as informações sobre Oasis que eu queria e uma ponte direta com a cena britpop londrina.Oasis, com o tempo ,virou a trilha sonora das minhas primeiras vezes.Primeira balada,primeira menstruação,primeiro beijo,primeira noite ficando acordada depois da meia noite,primeira ressaca.Começou a minha vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                     O tempo foi passando e  chegaram outros cds ,cada um melhor que o outro,como se fosse um passe de mágica, Be Here Now,Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants,Heathen Chemestry,Don´t Beleave The Truth e Dig Out Your Soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                      E hoje,é exatamente isso que estamos fazendo,cavando para fora nossas própias almas.A música está de luto denovo,e um novo marasmo musical.Uma nóva pergunta:"Quem ficará no lugar de Oasis?"Vejo na mídia novas promessas,como Oasis foi naquele sábado de 1994.Bandas como Beirut,Emmy The Great e Saltos Ornamentais,estão chegando com todo gás, como Oasis chegou, naquele sábado de 1994.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             -x-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3177617603479637958?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3177617603479637958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3177617603479637958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3177617603479637958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3177617603479637958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/08/viver-para-sempre-para-oasis.html' title='Viver para sempre (Para Oasis)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3604392695310023256</id><published>2009-08-10T13:59:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T14:07:28.470-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally Survival</title><content type='html'>The children are running&lt;br /&gt;The children are singing&lt;br /&gt;There´s a new day in the sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running in towards the bright&lt;br /&gt;Running in towards to live&lt;br /&gt;That´s how it all ended up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally grew out of it&lt;br /&gt;I finally grew up a bit&lt;br /&gt;Found in myself love and self control&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that´s how it happened&lt;br /&gt;There´s surely survival&lt;br /&gt;At the end of it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3604392695310023256?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3604392695310023256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3604392695310023256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3604392695310023256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3604392695310023256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/08/finally-survival.html' title='Finally Survival'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7018312232604644670</id><published>2009-08-07T13:48:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T13:53:49.700-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fotos</title><content type='html'>Você acorda de manhã&lt;br /&gt;E abre a janela&lt;br /&gt;Você antes via um mar&lt;br /&gt;Na sua frente&lt;br /&gt;Porem hoje você pode avistar&lt;br /&gt;Terra á vista&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha pra outra janela e vê o passado&lt;br /&gt;Você quer voltar praquele tempo&lt;br /&gt;Com a idade que tem hoje&lt;br /&gt;Pra poder beijar a beleza dos homens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E você que tinha tanta certeza&lt;br /&gt;De quem eras&lt;br /&gt;Você achava que já estava adulta&lt;br /&gt;Porem cresceu&lt;br /&gt;Vê as fotos do passado&lt;br /&gt;E não se reconhece&lt;br /&gt;Pois você era uma pessoa&lt;br /&gt;Completamente diferente&lt;br /&gt;Do que é hoje&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7018312232604644670?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7018312232604644670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7018312232604644670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7018312232604644670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7018312232604644670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/08/fotos.html' title='Fotos'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5235599489998362915</id><published>2009-07-02T21:10:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T21:18:59.661-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O que diria Edie Segdwick</title><content type='html'>Mata minha tristesa bebida maldita&lt;br /&gt;       A dor mortal que destroi e bica&lt;br /&gt;       Quero engolir este elixir&lt;br /&gt;       Vermelho como sangue&lt;br /&gt;       E doce como sexo&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;       E aquele velho amante maldito&lt;br /&gt;       Que um dia foi meu namorado&lt;br /&gt;       Não é mais solteiro &lt;br /&gt;       Nem lindo como um cravo&lt;br /&gt;                   -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5235599489998362915?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5235599489998362915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5235599489998362915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5235599489998362915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5235599489998362915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-que-diria-edie-segdwick.html' title='O que diria Edie Segdwick'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8802919869451251221</id><published>2009-06-27T02:37:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T02:55:54.870-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heal the World'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Coquetel Molotov'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael Jackson'/><title type='text'>Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michael</title><content type='html'>Parte IV&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;                             Passou os próximos anos ajudando na criação do personagem e escrevendo composições polêmicas.Incarnou tanto no personagem que começou a fazer tours mundiais vestido como o Chef.Seus shows eram muito esperados,especialmente a música, "Chocolate Salty Balls (P.S. I Love You)",na qual ele fazia o famoso "crotchgrab".Abriu para grandes artistas como Korn,Type 0 Negative e Marilyn Mason,grande amigo de Jackson.Michael chegou a confesar que se trocasse de cara queria ser igual a Marilyn Mason.Sucesso foi tamanho que foi chamado para fazer a trilha sonora do filme "Party Monster",que nos sets de filmagem,conheceu seu último grande amor,Macaulay Culkin.Eles ja tinham se encontrado antes ,na gravação do clipe "Sunday", da banda, Sonic Youth,porem só agora,o amor falou mais forte.Foi a época que,Michael,fez,uma cirurgia de estômago,e, emagreceu 80 kilos,virou modelo do "size 0" e readotou, o corte afro e uma extensa barba,deixando ele no estilo "Urso".Depois de dois anos de namoro,oficializaram a reunião no estado de Massachussets.Na frente do cartorio tinham grupos de ultra-direita que tentaram impedir o casamento.Foi aí que começou a fase engajada de Michael Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;                           &lt;br /&gt;                      Em 2006 gravou o polêmico clipe "They don´t care about us",no Rio e na Bahia.E depois de saber das violações do tratado de Kyoto nos E.U.A ,gravou, "Earth Song" e "Heal the World", com Belle and Sebastian,para as campanhas de Obama.Com a vitoria do presidente 2009 seria o ano de Obama e Michael.Em setembro foi chamado ,para ser a atração principal, no Recife no festival, "Coquetel Molotov".Se apaixonou por um designer Pernambucano.Morreu,ao seu lado,depois de uma overdose de cerveja e cocaína,no "Quintal do Lima".&lt;br /&gt;                      &lt;br /&gt;                     Michael sempre será lembrado como uma pessoa que nunca se deixou envelhecer.Apesar dos pesares sempre teve bons amigos e nunca ficou parado no tempo.Inovou na dança,na música e na sexualidade.Será sempre lembrado como uma figura libertadora dos homossexuais e os direitos ambientais.Foi o primeiro que abriu as portas para a homossexualidade na comunidade afro-americana,antes era um tabu.O primeiro a assumir a cara do "Lupus" e do "Vitiligo",libertando do estigma milhares de portadores.Deixou para sua filha ,Frances,que agora mora com Maculay,toda sua fortuna,para ela investir na carreira de modelo.Ele esteve sempre na crista da onda,e nunca será esquecido.&lt;br /&gt;                                         -x-&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/19809061-8802919869451251221?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8802919869451251221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8802919869451251221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8802919869451251221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8802919869451251221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/06/parte-iv-passou-os-proximos-anos.html' title='Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michael'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4827201773756765456</id><published>2009-06-27T02:36:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T02:54:53.301-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='In the closet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dangerous'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael Jackson'/><title type='text'>Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michael</title><content type='html'>Parte III&lt;br /&gt;                             Michael entrou em um novo período de depressão e gravou seu mais novo disco,"Dangerous".Queimou seu macaquinho rosa shoque e adotou um pesado macacão preto.Disco sombrio,marco no grunge e no bluenge.A capa do disco foram as manchas e as cicatrizes que Michael tinha na pele do Lupus.O disco teve participações de:&lt;br /&gt;                         .Radiohead,com a música "Creep"&lt;br /&gt;                         .Lenny Kravitz com a música "Are you gonna go my way" e&lt;br /&gt;                         .Beck com a música "Loser"&lt;br /&gt;                         Fora composições suas como "In the closet","Will you be there" e "Remember the time"&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                        1994 seria um ano de reflecção para Michael e tambem para cuidar ,da pequena Frances Bean,que teve uma grande participação na recuperação de Michael.Ela virou a princesa de seu castelo,sua esperança e felicidade.Via nos olhos dela o olhar de Kurt,seu grande amor.Se mudou com ela para Londres,pois queria que ela tivesse uma vida de rainha.Em todo lugar que ía levava Frances,e sempre eram fotografados pelos paparazzi.Lá fez amizades com a Princesa Diana,Elton John e Morrissey,que apresentou,Michael,a cena emergente do Britpop.&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                        Em 1995,Frances Bean,foi estudar no melhor colegio interno de Londres,e Michael voltou a ter uma vida de solteirão,com direito a gatinhos,de 18 á 21 aninhos,com aquelas irresistiveis carinhas de bebê .Deixou o sotaque americano para traz e adotou fielmente o sotaque britanico e alisou os cabelos e adotou o corte "indie".Criou uma gravadora underground chamada "Neverland Ranch".Virou produtor musical e cultural,patrocinando bandas como Oasis,Blur e Suede e descobrindo novos talentos como The Verve,Spice Girls e Pulp.Comprou todos os bares e boates de Camdem Towm e virou "Mr Cool Britannia".Foi a fase de Michael das copilações musicais undergrounds,como HELP!,das mixtapes  e dos pocketshows.E no meio das inovações,não quis ficar atraz,sua gravadora foi a primeira a lançar, uma mixtape de mp3s gratís na internet,o "UStory" em 1997,no site mp3.com .E pensando em investir no futuro comprou o mp3.com .Este tambem foi o ano que ele fez amizade com os criadores do South-Park,que em retribuição criaram um personagem,inspirado em Michael,"O Chef".Michael voltou para os Estados Unidos só para dublar o personagem.&lt;br /&gt;                                                           -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4827201773756765456?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4827201773756765456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4827201773756765456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4827201773756765456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4827201773756765456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/06/parte-iii-michael-entrou-em-um-novo.html' title='Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michael'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6899536141653601118</id><published>2009-06-27T02:34:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T02:54:14.503-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Black or White'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael Jackson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kurt Cobain'/><title type='text'>Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michael</title><content type='html'>Parte II&lt;br /&gt;          No início da década de 90 ele está consideravelmente muito acima do seu peso ideal,com um visual que é uma mistura de Tim Maia,Elvis e Barbie,assume públicamente sua homossexualidade.Cai na noite sem medo de ser feliz se envolvendo com alcohool,drogas e com rapazes mais novos,maiores de 18 anos,porem com aquelas irresistiveis carinhas de bebê.Aparece em vários tabloides criando escandalos e quebrando tabus sobre a homossexualidade.A midia começa a chama-lo de "Gay Madonna".&lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;br /&gt;                              Em 1991,influenciado por um de seus namorados,vai morar em Seattle,para seguir a cena grunge.Lá se apaixona por Kurt Cobain,e os dois começam a ter um casinho secreto.Michael escreve pra ele,"Black or White",Kurt escreve pra ele,"Smells Like Teen Spirit".Em um de seus encontros Kurt começa a ensinar a Michael a tocar violão e guitarra.Coisa que ele começa a ver que leva muito jeito.Porem,esta linda estoria de amor,tem um(a) grande inimigo(a),Coutney Love,a namorada de Kurt,a quem Kurt,apresenta Michael,só como um amigo.Os fins dos shows de Nirvana começam a reservar uma surpresa,todo final de show,Michael Jackson,pula encima do palco,com sua guitarra e um macaquinho justo cor de rosa,para tocar junto com a banda,"Black or White".Nasceria aí uma nova sonoridade,o bluenge,uma mistura de rithim and blues com grunge.Som que seria característico de Michael nesta nova fase.O público, gosta, e Michael é chamado para fazer parte do Nirvana.&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                         Durante ,o"MTV Acustico", de Nova Iorque,Michael e Kurt cantam três músicas em forma de um dueto romantico:"About a Girl","Where did you sleep last night" e "Something in a Way".No final deste dueto,quase orgásmico,os dois trocam um caliente beijo na boca.Michael pega o microfone,olha pro público e diz:-"Essa é a minha nova namorada."Gritinhos de alegria e espanto do público junto com os flashes da imprensa e dos tabloides acompanham o beijo.Mais uma vez "Gay Madonna",quebra mais um tabú,seriam o primeiro casal gay famoso a se assumirem em  público.Nesta noite Michael ganha mais um apelido,nosso conhecido, "Wakko Jako".No fundo ouvem-se os gritos de Courney Love,dizendo que ,Kurt,irá se arrepender do que está fazendo.Ela é escoltada pela segurança para fora do show.&lt;br /&gt;                   &lt;br /&gt;                         O show termina,Kurt e Michael dormem juntos e fazem amor violentamente.No meio do ato ,Courtney,invade o quarto e atira em Kurt Cobain."-Michael,só não mato você tambem porque quero que você sofra!",Courtney foge pulando pela janela.Michael liga pra 911 e levam o corpo de Kurt pro hospital.Tentam de tudo,porem ele não sobrevive.Michael entra em depressão e Courtney vai presa.Durante o funeral a mãe de Kurt disse -"O tempo que,meu filho,passou com Michael,foi a única época que ele não precisou de medicações nem falou de suicidio."Em um ato inédito a guarda da filha de Kurt,Frances Bean,ficou com Michael,que já chamava ele de "Mamãe 2".&lt;br /&gt;             &lt;br /&gt;                                         -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6899536141653601118?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6899536141653601118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6899536141653601118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6899536141653601118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6899536141653601118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/06/michael-jacksone-se-ou-o-verdadeiro_27.html' title='Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michael'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6079620015218701936</id><published>2009-06-26T22:40:00.036-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T02:56:41.452-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thriller'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael Jackson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what if'/><title type='text'>Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michae</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SkV5AnZtyJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/TV-oG2m01rY/s1600-h/michael+jackson+verdadeiro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SkV5AnZtyJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/TV-oG2m01rY/s320/michael+jackson+verdadeiro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351816783683504274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                    Parte I&lt;br /&gt;                                       Estamos em 1985 logo depois do grande sucesso de "Thriller".O jovem Michael começa a se olhar no espelho de uma forma diferente,acaba de fazer cirurgias pláticas,porem acha que precisa de mais.Em vez de  ligar pro seu cirurgião decide deixar seu rosto como está.Está feliz e satisfeito com as venda de seu novo disco,e decide não fazer nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                      Em 1987 lança "Bad",ainda mantendo suas características afro,um pouco mais magro.Depois do sucesso de vendas de seu último disco descobre que está com "Lupus",doença que ataca a pele e orgãos internos.Mesmo sabendo que pode fazer cirurgia para corrigir as marcas e a falta de pigmentação da pele,em decorrencia da doença,decide deixar na cara o seu sofrimento.Tabloides da época especulam que ele está com AIDS e especulam a sua homossexualidade.O ,"Rei do Pop", se assusta com as declarações e passa o resto da década de 80 vivendo do sucesso de "Bad" e tentanto aceitar a sua doença.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                   No início da década de 90 ele está consideravelmente muito acima do seu peso ideal,com um visual que é uma mistura de Tim Maia,Elvis e Barbie,assume públicamente sua homossexualidade.Cai na noite sem medo de ser feliz se envolvendo com alcohool,drogas e com rapazes mais novos,maiores de 18 anos,porem com aquelas irresistiveis carinhas de bebê.Aparece em vários tabloides criando escandalos e quebrando tabus sobre a homossexualidade.A midia começa a chama-lo de "Gay Madonna".&lt;br /&gt;                                          -x-&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/19809061-6079620015218701936?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6079620015218701936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6079620015218701936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6079620015218701936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6079620015218701936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/06/michael-jacksone-se-ou-o-verdadeiro.html' title='Michael Jackson,e se... ou O verdadeiro Michae'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SkV5AnZtyJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/TV-oG2m01rY/s72-c/michael+jackson+verdadeiro.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19809061.post-5641834891959276335</id><published>2009-06-10T22:53:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T23:03:25.672-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Galego</title><content type='html'>Agente se encontrou outra vez&lt;br /&gt;Neste tempo todo &lt;br /&gt;Foi tão dificil te esquecer &lt;br /&gt;Quero te mostrar o quanto que cresci&lt;br /&gt;Quero te mostrar o quando que eu amadureci  &lt;br /&gt;Quero mostrar pra você &lt;br /&gt;Que de menina &lt;br /&gt;Eu virei uma mulher &lt;br /&gt;Quero te mostrar &lt;br /&gt;Coisas que agora eu sou capaz de fazer&lt;br /&gt;Beija minha boca &lt;br /&gt;Você encontrará um lugar &lt;br /&gt;Que te dará muito prazer &lt;br /&gt;Porcausa de você eu me descobrí &lt;br /&gt;Agora está na hora de te descobrir &lt;br /&gt;Não me importa o quando você envelheceu &lt;br /&gt;Você será sempre aquele garoto levado &lt;br /&gt;Que eu ví quando agente se conheceu&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5641834891959276335?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5641834891959276335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5641834891959276335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5641834891959276335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5641834891959276335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/06/galego.html' title='Galego'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5490308471092719611</id><published>2009-05-25T21:17:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T22:32:53.359-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='skype'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boxxy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='united nations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='messenger'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facebook'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='one world'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='un'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ipod'/><title type='text'>Friends from the internet</title><content type='html'>And we dream so hard &lt;br /&gt;  For a change &lt;br /&gt;  As we smile and watch people pass by&lt;br /&gt;  We all noticed &lt;br /&gt;  This is only one big world &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Miles and Miles apart &lt;br /&gt;  With only one dream &lt;br /&gt;  Of freedom &lt;br /&gt;  To unite&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  We saw so much more&lt;br /&gt;  Than what the webcam &lt;br /&gt;  Could show&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5490308471092719611?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5490308471092719611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5490308471092719611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5490308471092719611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5490308471092719611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/05/friends-from-internet.html' title='Friends from the internet'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6635796318333420183</id><published>2009-05-13T21:54:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T22:33:18.150-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boxxy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='womanizer'/><title type='text'>After listening to Daniel Johnston</title><content type='html'>I met the most beautiful boy in the world  &lt;br /&gt;                     In a place full of snobbish people &lt;br /&gt;                     And tuxedos&lt;br /&gt;                     He didn´t enjoy the presence of boyfriend&lt;br /&gt;                     So full of jelousy&lt;br /&gt;                     It was funny how easily he used to cry &lt;br /&gt;                     Over the most smallest things &lt;br /&gt;                     He just brushed his fringe and cryed &lt;br /&gt;                     But he made me feel in a way &lt;br /&gt;                     I could never walk away&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                     When Robby smiled &lt;br /&gt;                     You can see the world go round &lt;br /&gt;                     In a carnival &lt;br /&gt;                     In a ferris wheel&lt;br /&gt;                     He had long brownish hair&lt;br /&gt;                     That used to go red &lt;br /&gt;                     Under the rain&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                     So time passed by &lt;br /&gt;                     He became fat and bald &lt;br /&gt;                     And has a bier now and then &lt;br /&gt;                     But somethings never changes&lt;br /&gt;                     He still wears sunglasses &lt;br /&gt;                     To hide the tears on his face&lt;br /&gt;                      &lt;br /&gt;                          -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6635796318333420183?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1IwoqlJdiY' title='After listening to Daniel Johnston'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6635796318333420183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6635796318333420183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6635796318333420183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6635796318333420183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/05/after-listening-to-daniel-johnston.html' title='After listening to Daniel Johnston'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2381150845521184680</id><published>2009-04-27T20:10:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T20:28:39.829-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boludo pelotudo perdedor loser'/><title type='text'>Che,Boludo!</title><content type='html'>Nunca deberia haberte buscado &lt;br /&gt;   En aquella tarde fria de Abril&lt;br /&gt;   Para nunca saber tu nombre&lt;br /&gt;   Ni tu existencia &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Si tristeza tuviera una cara&lt;br /&gt;   Seria la tuya &lt;br /&gt;   Si tiempo perdido tuviera ojos &lt;br /&gt;   Serian los tuyos &lt;br /&gt;   Si boludez tuviera direccion&lt;br /&gt;   Seria la tuya &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Si a cada pazo adelante&lt;br /&gt;   Ya estoy en otro lugar &lt;br /&gt;   Un lugar bien lejosj&lt;br /&gt;   De ti &lt;br /&gt;   Boludo de mierda!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2381150845521184680?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2381150845521184680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2381150845521184680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2381150845521184680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2381150845521184680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/04/cheboludo.html' title='Che,Boludo!'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4670141818693915140</id><published>2009-04-13T09:49:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T09:58:57.148-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Little readhead girl</title><content type='html'>I remember the little readhead girl&lt;br /&gt;Who was inlove with Charlie Brown&lt;br /&gt;Red was her passion &lt;br /&gt;Red was Charlie Brown &lt;br /&gt;In her fantasies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Charlie Brown was such a looser &lt;br /&gt;Allways a begger never a chooser&lt;br /&gt;Locked inside his world of &lt;br /&gt;Dungeons and Dragons&lt;br /&gt;And Iron Maiden &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come with me Charlie &lt;br /&gt;Let me show you the world&lt;br /&gt;Let me teach you about love &lt;br /&gt;And all the fire in my desire &lt;br /&gt;In my red world of passion &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So time passed by &lt;br /&gt;They both grew up &lt;br /&gt;It was the day &lt;br /&gt;That finnaly,Charlie, kicked that ball&lt;br /&gt;And he remembered the &lt;br /&gt;Little readhead girl &lt;br /&gt;Who sat next to him &lt;br /&gt;In the classroom &lt;br /&gt;That day she was his fantasy&lt;br /&gt;In a centerfold of a magazine&lt;br /&gt;_x_&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4670141818693915140?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4670141818693915140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4670141818693915140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4670141818693915140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4670141818693915140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-readhead-girl.html' title='Little readhead girl'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2750454713296057381</id><published>2009-03-31T15:25:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T15:50:01.453-03:00</updated><title type='text'>3 segundos de paz (Música)</title><content type='html'>Eu espero esta guerra acabar&lt;br /&gt;                           Eu faria de tudo&lt;br /&gt;                           Por você&lt;br /&gt;                           E 3 segund0s de paz&lt;br /&gt;                           Pois este cheiro de morte&lt;br /&gt;                           Eu já não aguento mais&lt;br /&gt;                           E um sorriso&lt;br /&gt;                           É tão difícil segurar&lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;br /&gt;                           Pois em minhas mãos&lt;br /&gt;                           Há um desejo de agarrar&lt;br /&gt;                           A respiração&lt;br /&gt;                           As saudades do seu mar&lt;br /&gt;                           E rezo então&lt;br /&gt;                           Para isto tudo acabar&lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;br /&gt;                           Eu escuto sua voz&lt;br /&gt;                           Noite e dia&lt;br /&gt;                           E faço coisas&lt;br /&gt;                           Pensando no que você faria&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;br /&gt;                           Eu espero esta guerra acabar&lt;br /&gt;                          Eu faria de tudo&lt;br /&gt;                          Por você&lt;br /&gt;                          E 3 segund0s de paz&lt;br /&gt;                            -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2750454713296057381?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2750454713296057381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2750454713296057381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2750454713296057381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2750454713296057381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/03/3-segundos-de-paz-musica.html' title='3 segundos de paz (Música)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3413364286871279334</id><published>2009-03-03T14:18:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T14:25:50.197-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Song for a smile</title><content type='html'>As I find myself tuning out of you&lt;br /&gt;                                                And  tuning into me&lt;br /&gt;                                                I find myself closer to be free&lt;br /&gt;                                               &lt;br /&gt;                                                I know I will never have you&lt;br /&gt;                                                For it is something permanent&lt;br /&gt;                                                So,please,do smile&lt;br /&gt;                                               &lt;br /&gt;                                                Have fun&lt;br /&gt;                                                Have a laugh&lt;br /&gt;                                                Because all I want is your&lt;br /&gt;                                                Happiness Happiness  Happiness&lt;br /&gt;                                                        &lt;br /&gt;                                                        -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3413364286871279334?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3413364286871279334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3413364286871279334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3413364286871279334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3413364286871279334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/03/song-for-smile.html' title='Song for a smile'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6479489688380829080</id><published>2009-02-18T22:43:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T22:52:02.610-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Beneath the belly</title><content type='html'>Look what the girl has done&lt;br /&gt;                          She has mutilated herself&lt;br /&gt;                          The knife goes under the skin&lt;br /&gt;                          Making Love&lt;br /&gt;                          Beneath the belly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                         Girl,you better stop making lies&lt;br /&gt;                         Making lies to yourself&lt;br /&gt;                         And all over the world&lt;br /&gt;                         There´s a secret you carry&lt;br /&gt;                         Deep inside&lt;br /&gt;                         Beneath the belly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                         Something kicks you&lt;br /&gt;                         But it´s all in your mind&lt;br /&gt;                         You are allways pretending&lt;br /&gt;                         You are something that you´re not&lt;br /&gt;                         So you call mummy and daddy&lt;br /&gt;                         Just to scream the pain inside&lt;br /&gt;                         Beneath the belly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6479489688380829080?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6479489688380829080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6479489688380829080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6479489688380829080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6479489688380829080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/02/beneath-belly.html' title='Beneath the belly'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-9065115519279920739</id><published>2009-02-13T20:05:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T20:15:57.773-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Libra</title><content type='html'>Remember when&lt;br /&gt;                              You where willing&lt;br /&gt;                              To pay me a ticket&lt;br /&gt;                               So that I could fly&lt;br /&gt;                               Into your arms&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                               Yet you never payed&lt;br /&gt;                                A ticket to fly&lt;br /&gt;                                Into yourself&lt;br /&gt;                               And you don´t know&lt;br /&gt;                               Who you are&lt;br /&gt;                               Walking so uptight&lt;br /&gt;                               All on your own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                               Now I wanna be happy&lt;br /&gt;                               Be a wife and have some twins&lt;br /&gt;                               And lead it on&lt;br /&gt;                               Without that sad memory&lt;br /&gt;                               Of the day you said no&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                              And now all we have&lt;br /&gt;                              Is all the happiness &lt;br /&gt;                              Reserved for us&lt;br /&gt;                              In the house we live&lt;br /&gt;                                    &lt;br /&gt;                                   -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-9065115519279920739?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/9065115519279920739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=9065115519279920739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9065115519279920739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9065115519279920739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/02/libra.html' title='Libra'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7831650110043547117</id><published>2009-01-22T21:57:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T22:06:00.407-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribo de vampiros</title><content type='html'>Meus amigos se vestem de preto&lt;br /&gt;Saem de noite e bebem vinho&lt;br /&gt;Escrevem e leem poesias&lt;br /&gt;E acariciam os cálices com suas unhas vermelhas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escutamos músia por sua beleza e pureza&lt;br /&gt;Não nos apegamos a ritmos nem estilos&lt;br /&gt;Nos focamos na beleza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nos chamam de subversivos&lt;br /&gt;Mais quem realmente nos conhece&lt;br /&gt;Vos digo&lt;br /&gt;Não somos subversivos&lt;br /&gt;Somos artistas,poetas e boemios&lt;br /&gt;Que pertencemos a beleza da cidade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7831650110043547117?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7831650110043547117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7831650110043547117' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7831650110043547117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7831650110043547117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/01/tribo-de-vampiros.html' title='Tribo de vampiros'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2869050127338101963</id><published>2009-01-22T21:45:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T21:51:10.086-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mis en chateau</title><content type='html'>When you discovered you where&lt;br /&gt;Stabbed by a knife&lt;br /&gt;Instead of being stoned&lt;br /&gt;You know the real reasons of your heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blood as red as whine &lt;br /&gt;Mis en chateau&lt;br /&gt;Oh the ship of fools&lt;br /&gt;Ridden by the young and the old&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you froze out in the cold&lt;br /&gt;And discovered you survived&lt;br /&gt;Because you are not just any whine&lt;br /&gt;You are mis en chateau&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2869050127338101963?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2869050127338101963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2869050127338101963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2869050127338101963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2869050127338101963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2009/01/mis-en-chateau.html' title='Mis en chateau'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1104410330523092992</id><published>2008-11-24T17:47:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T18:36:49.033-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Erotomania</title><content type='html'>Quando Roberto chegou em casa o que se ouvia era o chape-chape de suas sandalias no chão de mogno.De olhos verdes e estatura alta Roberto procurava uma cura para sua obcessão.Uma imagem cheia de sentimentos no Desktop do seu computador.Foto procurada em suas aventuras no flickr,atraz de uma foto dela.&lt;br /&gt;                                                           A primeira vez que se conheceram foi em um blog de midia,ele se apaixonou pelas suas ideias.Até que um ponto deixou de acompanhar o blog para acompanhar ela,silenciosamente atraz de seus passos.&lt;br /&gt;                                                          -"Ei,menino!Que foto é essa?"&lt;br /&gt;                                                          - "Nada,só fotos de uma festa.Quer um pouco de Cheetos?"&lt;br /&gt;                                                         -"Claro!Obrigada!Por que você passa o dia no computador Beto?Não quer mais saber da sua irmã?"&lt;br /&gt;                                                          Roberto preferiu o silencio,como resposta a pergunta.E enquanto sua irmã saia do quarto ele sentia a vergonha queimando dentro do peito.Vergonha,por estar apaixonado por uma foto.Aquela sainha curta,pernas longas,cabelos ruivos,ela não era somente bela como inteligente.E tudo que ele via e queria eram pernas,não qualquer perna,aquela perna.A este ponto perna era a única palavra que lhe vinha a cabeça.&lt;br /&gt;                                                        Amanda não era qualquer garota.Estudante de jornalismo em uma conceituada universidade.Fã de Niesztche,Roland Barths e Adorno.Tinha uma namorada e uma amiga,lindas,porem,não tão lindas quanto ela,com quem ela saia com freqüencia.E durante a noite sempre capturava os olhos das lentes que a cercava.Porem os olhos que a mais fitava eram os de Roberto.Ele não se atrevia a chegar perto,ela era muito sagrada para ele.Era sua figura de adoração e idolatria.                  &lt;br /&gt;                                                    -"Por que não me toca?Vem falar comigo vem."&lt;br /&gt;                                                     Ele ficou imóvel e vermelho,mil coisas passaram pela sua cabeça.Só fez abrir a boca e tentou falar sem conseguir.&lt;br /&gt;                                                   -"É mudo?É gago?Hahahhaha!Beijos,me liga!"&lt;br /&gt;                                                       Ela seguiu suas amigas e desapareceu,deixando,Roberto,que não era mudo nem gago, sozinho com suas ilusões,de um dia conseguir falar e ter-la para si.&lt;br /&gt;                                                       Ligou o carro e saiu,sem ela a noite não tem mais graça.Ele parou perto de um estacionamento,com uma foto dela em uma das mãos.Derrepente o suor cresceu,o calor,o toque e a agonia antes do alívio final.Pegou o lenço,limpou a foto e saiu.&lt;br /&gt;                                                      Não se sabe o que aconteceu com Roberto e sua paixão impossível,só sei que,um destes dias,um jovem entrou em um prostibulo para possuir uma ruiva de pernas longas.E tudo que ele fez,foi olhar pra ela e gritar :&lt;br /&gt;                                                       -"Amanda!"&lt;br /&gt;                                                                  -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1104410330523092992?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1104410330523092992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1104410330523092992' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1104410330523092992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1104410330523092992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/11/erotomania.html' title='Erotomania'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6747649230458110863</id><published>2008-11-18T16:10:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T16:17:25.550-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Luta</title><content type='html'>Não existe nada errado em gostar de alguem&lt;br /&gt;                   De fato é muito saudavel pensar em alguem que se gosta&lt;br /&gt;                   Ficar só e nua somente com aquele desejo e lembranças&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;br /&gt;                   Você não fez nada de errado&lt;br /&gt;                   Quando se apaixonou&lt;br /&gt;                   E o medo,sangue e lágrimas&lt;br /&gt;                   Fez você esconder seu amor&lt;br /&gt;                   Como é a vida em que seu proprio sangue &lt;br /&gt;                   Vira uma ameaça?&lt;br /&gt;                   Só porcausa da forma em que você ama&lt;br /&gt;                   Ou a pessoa que você amou&lt;br /&gt;                      &lt;br /&gt;                 Palavras fotos e letras&lt;br /&gt;                 Foi tudo que de um coração&lt;br /&gt;                 Restou&lt;br /&gt;                  -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6747649230458110863?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6747649230458110863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6747649230458110863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6747649230458110863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6747649230458110863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/11/luta.html' title='Luta'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7918779258159923079</id><published>2008-11-13T16:16:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T16:23:57.262-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalking you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;                          Sometimes I creep into your window&lt;br /&gt;                          Just to know how you´ve been doing&lt;br /&gt;                          Are you the same ?&lt;br /&gt;                          Are you still the one ?&lt;br /&gt;                          Who helped me get up&lt;br /&gt;                          When I was down the drain&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;br /&gt;                         Everyday I pass by your house&lt;br /&gt;                         Just to think of you&lt;br /&gt;                         I´m the one who goes into your trash&lt;br /&gt;                         Just to see what you´ve been writing&lt;br /&gt;                         And I follow you into places&lt;br /&gt;                         I make up silly excuses&lt;br /&gt;                         Just to see you again&lt;br /&gt;                               &lt;br /&gt;                                      -x-&lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;br /&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/19809061-7918779258159923079?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7918779258159923079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7918779258159923079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7918779258159923079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7918779258159923079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/11/stalking-you.html' title='Stalking you'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8893317213503408661</id><published>2008-11-04T11:49:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T12:01:31.883-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu Papai Noel Morreu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SRBViJ63wzI/AAAAAAAAACw/AB8m0u1To-A/s1600-h/granpa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SRBViJ63wzI/AAAAAAAAACw/AB8m0u1To-A/s320/granpa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264802009662866226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            Levantei esta manhã com a notícia do câncer.Agora você já comprou sua passagem para o ônibus da jornada sem fim.&lt;br /&gt;                                             Suas últimas palavras serão ditas e como sempre estarei ao seu lado.Conviví com você um quarto da minha vida.Agora não sei o que fazer com os outros três quartos.   &lt;br /&gt;                                              Você se lembra no Natal naqueles dias que você se vestia de  Papai Noel?Você trazia um saco cheio de presentes e chocolates.Nesta geração nova já temos duas crianças e começa a eleição de um novo Papai Noel.Se ninguem aceitar,vestirei suas roupas com orgulho.&lt;br /&gt;                                              Quero que seu espírito vá em paz.Não se esqueça de rezar no seu caminho ao céu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                -x-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                Ao meu avô Luiz Godoy Peixoto que faleceu ontem de câncer de pulmão.&lt;br /&gt;                                 (*03/02/24 + 03/11/08)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8893317213503408661?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8893317213503408661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8893317213503408661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8893317213503408661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8893317213503408661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/11/meu-papai-noel-morreu.html' title='Meu Papai Noel Morreu'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SRBViJ63wzI/AAAAAAAAACw/AB8m0u1To-A/s72-c/granpa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19809061.post-1827698925665005753</id><published>2008-10-28T16:05:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T02:09:08.788-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Estrela da manhã (continuação de "Estranho conhecido"=&gt;  http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/search?q=estranho+conhecido+</title><content type='html'>Ela,aquela, não estava mais lá,agora é só eles dois.Não existe ninguem entre eles .No caminho a uma felicidade eterna.De onde virá o desejo senão do e,daqueles que esperamos anos para chegar.&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Será amor ou só a vaidade de caminhar com o cara mais cobiçado da cidade.Pois o amor é a uma estrada que já sabemos o destino.É só andar que ele estará em seu caminho.&lt;br /&gt;                                                    -"Camila,senta aquí.Pois o que deus junta nunca será separado"&lt;br /&gt;                                                    -"Prometo que será sempre assim,sangue com sangue."&lt;br /&gt;                                                  &lt;br /&gt;                                                     Nunca este ela tão bela,os pássaros,as flores,neve,arvores e o barulho dos paços na grama congelada.&lt;br /&gt;                                                      -"Vadim,quero conhecer seu país,um dia."&lt;br /&gt;                                                      -"Iremos,no meu aniversario,quero te apresenta á minha família"&lt;br /&gt;                                                              -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1827698925665005753?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1827698925665005753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1827698925665005753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1827698925665005753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1827698925665005753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/10/estrela-da-manh-continuao-de-estranho.html' title='Estrela da manhã (continuação de &quot;Estranho conhecido&quot;=&gt;  http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/search?q=estranho+conhecido+'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3544107903323427363</id><published>2008-10-17T12:39:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T12:45:33.291-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry,for everything  (She and him)</title><content type='html'>There´s no need to forgive&lt;br /&gt;                                         Please don´t say " I´m sorry"&lt;br /&gt;                                         Because nothing happened&lt;br /&gt;                                         You did not hurt me  at all &lt;br /&gt;                                        &lt;br /&gt;                                         There´s nothing wrong&lt;br /&gt;                                         In falling inlove&lt;br /&gt;                                         And find out the love you give&lt;br /&gt;                                         Will allways return as energy&lt;br /&gt;                                         To the universe  &lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                               -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3544107903323427363?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3544107903323427363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3544107903323427363' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3544107903323427363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3544107903323427363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/10/sorryfor-everything-she-and-him.html' title='Sorry,for everything  (She and him)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4383155742140400378</id><published>2008-10-17T12:37:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T12:39:06.185-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Para todas as almas e mal entendidos</title><content type='html'>Todos aqueles que perdi&lt;br /&gt;                                              Todos aqueles que amei&lt;br /&gt;                                               Estão em meus braços&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                             E só existe em mim,o perdão&lt;br /&gt;                                             Em situações que existiram mágoas e mal entendidos&lt;br /&gt;                                             Quando pessoas foram tiradas abruptamente de min&lt;br /&gt;                                              &lt;br /&gt;                                             Já rezei,já pedi&lt;br /&gt;                                             E descubrí que não há porque querer&lt;br /&gt;                                             Que o tempo volte&lt;br /&gt;                                             Quero que o tempo passe&lt;br /&gt;                                             Para recuperar cada amigo perdido&lt;br /&gt;                                             De um em um&lt;br /&gt;                                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                             E as pessoas que foram&lt;br /&gt;                                             Eu sei que meu amor não foi pouco&lt;br /&gt;                                             Não carrego ressentimentos&lt;br /&gt;                                             Pois dei tudo que eu tinha de dar&lt;br /&gt;                                                   &lt;br /&gt;                                                     -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4383155742140400378?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4383155742140400378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4383155742140400378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4383155742140400378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4383155742140400378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/10/para-todas-as-almas-e-mal-entendidos.html' title='Para todas as almas e mal entendidos'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1274982616312014882</id><published>2008-09-26T17:07:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T17:15:30.146-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Todos nós ja amamos alguem</title><content type='html'>Todos nós já tivemos nossos ideaís trocados&lt;br /&gt;Porcausa de alguem ou uma pessoa,que você nunca esperava&lt;br /&gt;Todos nós já esperamos por alguem que nunca veio&lt;br /&gt;Todos nós já perdemos tempo imaginando ter alguem que não vale a pena&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdemos amores,perdemos amigos,perdemos seres queridos&lt;br /&gt;Pois fomos mal interpretados e mal compreendidos&lt;br /&gt;Primeiro achamos de se tratar-se de uma doença&lt;br /&gt;Nos desesperamos em vão&lt;br /&gt;Porem,não há doença,essa é a doença&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais a vida mudou desde que você apareceu&lt;br /&gt;E me fez sorrir&lt;br /&gt;Tudo se torna mais logico&lt;br /&gt;Já não há mais espera&lt;br /&gt;Tudo se torna mais livre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você é meu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Você é minha festa&lt;br /&gt;Você é a meu fim de semana&lt;br /&gt;Você é minha boa lembrança&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você me fez ver&lt;br /&gt;Que por um tempo&lt;br /&gt;A esperança sempre esteve lá&lt;br /&gt;E agora veio pra min&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1274982616312014882?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1274982616312014882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1274982616312014882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1274982616312014882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1274982616312014882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/09/todos-ns-ja-amamos-alguem.html' title='Todos nós ja amamos alguem'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8937190856736298255</id><published>2008-09-02T18:47:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T18:51:05.269-03:00</updated><title type='text'>As pessoas que amamos</title><content type='html'>As pessoas que amamos não são as originais&lt;br /&gt;     São pessoas que nos fazem lembrar de outras&lt;br /&gt;     Que nos fizeram felizes,amaram e cativaram&lt;br /&gt;     Em um passado distante&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;     Amar é sobre tudo&lt;br /&gt;     Reconhecer em alguem&lt;br /&gt;     Todas as pessoas que você&lt;br /&gt;     Que você já amou antes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Sem uma memoria amorosa&lt;br /&gt;      Amar é&lt;br /&gt;      Impossível&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8937190856736298255?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8937190856736298255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8937190856736298255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8937190856736298255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8937190856736298255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/09/as-pessoas-que-amamos.html' title='As pessoas que amamos'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7029879089762561040</id><published>2008-08-12T22:17:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T22:20:32.401-03:00</updated><title type='text'>I´m tempted</title><content type='html'>I´m tempted to write a story about a young man who falls inlove with Dorian Grey.Coincidentally he has a classmate called Dorian,which he thinks he´s personality is similar to,the book charachter, Dorian Grey.Toghether they live a platonic love affair.What do you guys think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7029879089762561040?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7029879089762561040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7029879089762561040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7029879089762561040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7029879089762561040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-tempted.html' title='I´m tempted'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8618408508649872067</id><published>2008-08-12T21:59:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T02:10:37.004-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cartas Coreanas</title><content type='html'>Eu me lembro de um tempo&lt;br /&gt;                                           Não sabia seu nome&lt;br /&gt;                                           Tudo que eu queria era ter seu telefone&lt;br /&gt;                                           &lt;br /&gt;                                           Derrepente me veio uma luz&lt;br /&gt;                                           Descobrí seu nome como se&lt;br /&gt;                                           Estivessimos nús&lt;br /&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;                                          Foi um livro aberto&lt;br /&gt;                                          Na minha pratileira&lt;br /&gt;                                          Que por muito tempo&lt;br /&gt;                                          Viveu na minha cabeceira&lt;br /&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;                                          Queria saber tudo deste personagem&lt;br /&gt;                                          Ía atraz de livros&lt;br /&gt;                                          Atraz de uma continuação&lt;br /&gt;                                          Como se você a tivesse&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8618408508649872067?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8618408508649872067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8618408508649872067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8618408508649872067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8618408508649872067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/08/cartas-coreanas.html' title='Cartas Coreanas'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4789489065324880485</id><published>2008-08-07T17:32:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T17:37:26.492-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The seed</title><content type='html'>I thought I was caught inside a storm&lt;br /&gt;                                        The winds took me from one side to another&lt;br /&gt;                                        Untill your river helped me to find my place&lt;br /&gt;                                        So this seed has returned home&lt;br /&gt;                                        Where it could never leave from&lt;br /&gt;                                        There was storm&lt;br /&gt;                                         I was so happy&lt;br /&gt;                                         I didn´t even care&lt;br /&gt;                                        Thanks to your gentle water&lt;br /&gt;                                         I´m growing my roots to become a tree&lt;br /&gt;                                          At last&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4789489065324880485?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4789489065324880485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4789489065324880485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4789489065324880485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4789489065324880485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/08/seed.html' title='The seed'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-9114122652524619866</id><published>2008-07-04T02:30:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T02:49:20.806-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Orgasm in London</title><content type='html'>As the plane landed,the second time I was in London,I had so many hopes,after eleven hours locked inside a plane.I felt it in the song that was playing in my headphones,as the clouds suddenly dissapeared and the city slowly grew bigger over the window beside me.I felt I could hug the city.&lt;br /&gt;                                                           At Camdem town market I felt at home,the day before Xmas,I felt as if I was returning home once again.I bought a russian hat,some fancy gloves and a beautiful blue cross.We also bought some dried fruits  and a bottle of wine for Xmas dinner at the hotel.It was the best Xmas ever.&lt;br /&gt;                                                          The next day I left my parents sleeping inside the room,left them a note and went to walk around the city.I spent the day at Hide Park and went back to the hotel when it was evening.&lt;br /&gt;                                                          At the British Museum I discovered the cross I bought was actually an "ankh",a powerful egyptian symbol thar ment eternal life,the symbol was also in the name of "Tutankhamon".I beleaved it was one of the gifts the city had given me.&lt;br /&gt;                                                          The new years eve was the best of my life,just me,the tv and a bottle of whine just for me.The next day the whole city became white,so I put some clothes and rushed outside of the hotel,to play in the snow.There was a huge crowd in the street,mostly children and foreigners that,like me,had never seen snow before.Hide Park became this huge winter  party,there where snowmen,snowfights and snowangels.I had the best time ever!&lt;br /&gt;                                                       Oh,about the orgasm?There was no lover,man, woman,beast or object.It was the first time I saw snow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                            -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-9114122652524619866?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/9114122652524619866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=9114122652524619866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9114122652524619866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9114122652524619866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/07/orgasm-in-london.html' title='Orgasm in London'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2572450546746173823</id><published>2008-06-29T00:52:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T01:05:20.799-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Awake</title><content type='html'>Just another night,she´s awake and just can´t sleep.She´s waiting for her knight to come.Infact she´s wandering what he thinks.There where songs and poems about it.That thing that keeps knocking off her feet.I´ve heard the tears she´s been sad about it.She keeps them in the closet while she sleeps.&lt;br /&gt;                             Another morning and it´s 1pm again,she has an apple,makes some tea.Unlike other days,she had a bath,washed her hair,dressed her best and left to town.She sees some faces she recognises but she can´t say hi,it will be to shamefull to her.There´s a wish to fleed the city,and go where no one knows her,so new people she can meet.&lt;br /&gt;                            If there is a god,he heard a prayer.If she beleaves in god,he will be there.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                          -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2572450546746173823?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2572450546746173823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2572450546746173823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2572450546746173823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2572450546746173823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/awake.html' title='Awake'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2917301762153425794</id><published>2008-06-25T03:53:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T04:13:58.140-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Gakbu</title><content type='html'>The day I decided to stay alive&lt;br /&gt;                                      I stopped living and started existing&lt;br /&gt;                                      All I had was a photograph&lt;br /&gt;                                      That made my body hot and cold&lt;br /&gt;                                      A flower spread open&lt;br /&gt;                                      By the red bee of shame&lt;br /&gt;                                    &lt;br /&gt;                                      Like a hungry panther&lt;br /&gt;                                      God knows how I fight&lt;br /&gt;                                      Just to grasp the hope&lt;br /&gt;                                      Of the existence of a pray&lt;br /&gt;                                      To keep my existence&lt;br /&gt;                                      &lt;br /&gt;                                      Let the wildbeast unleashed&lt;br /&gt;                                      Will someone forget to close the cage&lt;br /&gt;                                      Because I know my way home&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2917301762153425794?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2917301762153425794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2917301762153425794' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2917301762153425794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2917301762153425794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/gakbu.html' title='Gakbu'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2002145817135779795</id><published>2008-06-23T23:48:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T23:56:37.774-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Terreiro</title><content type='html'>Apaguei seu telefone do meu celular&lt;br /&gt;                                       Não sou galinha de macumba&lt;br /&gt;                                       Pra você me sacrificar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2002145817135779795?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2002145817135779795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2002145817135779795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2002145817135779795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2002145817135779795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/terreiro.html' title='Terreiro'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-903199888150824423</id><published>2008-06-21T16:01:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T22:18:22.135-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Adriane Viaja</title><content type='html'>Diario de viagem&lt;br /&gt;Dia 1 :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Querido,Diario :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                 Finalmente vou fazer aquela viagem para Paris.Hehehe!Agora ninguem me segura!Irei conhecer o Mahmed,o francês de  descendencia tunisiana, com quem me correspondo desda época do BBS.Me lembro do dia que ele me ensinou a fazer o Fundí do restaurante dele,nunca vou me esquecer.Foi com ele que aprendi minha terceira lingua,o francês.E ele não é qualquer gringo!Gosta muito da cultura brasileira e mostrava sempre interessado quando eu fala da cultura daquí.Ele parece ser muito inteligente e intelectual,e não é como qualquer estudante de computação,ele é muito bonito.Magro,alto,cabelos longos lisos,uma boina e uma barbichinha,típico parisiense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                  Enfim, já tou com tudo pronto.Comprei aquela langerie especial,aquelas velinhas e várias camisinhas para nossa trepada magnífica encima da Torre Eifell!Minha imaginação não tem limítes.Pô,BBS,a antiga internet,acho que ninguem hoje sabe mais o que é isso.Mais oque importa o bregão,chupa que é de uva e a Mulher Melancia cantando se em poucas horas estarei no "Bistrô Parissiene" do Mahmed em Montmartre ao lado  pés das escadas do Sacre Cour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;!Tou levando aquí a fotinha dele com 12 anos na "Euro Disney".Tão bonitinho,ele,abraçadinho com a Minney.Eita!Tá na hora do vôo.&lt;br /&gt;Vai,meu irmão,pega essa avião!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;              Dia 2 :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;         Maldito,Diario :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                Depois de passar o cacete todo do vôo sem dormir e enfrentar a porra da alfandega, me fudí para chegar até o "Bistrô Parissienne".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                            Quando fui trocar o dinheiro ,perguntei,com meu francês "Utilisateur independent",como chegar até Montmartre,e a mocinha,sem falar uma  palavra,jogou encima de mim 70&lt;/span&gt;€ &lt;span style=""&gt;e um mapinha.Eu disse com toda minha simpatia : "Merci,madmoiselle."Ela ficou enfurecida e disse que era pra chamar ela de "madame",e ainda me chamou de macaca mal educada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                             Saí de lá com a seguinte dúvida na cabeça:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                Como assim "madame"?Ela não parecia ter nem 18 anos!Eu sou mais velha que ela é "madmoiselle",sim!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                               E lá estava em um aeroporto que eu mal conseguia sair,vestida desconfortavelmente na minha langerie sensual,no inverno parisiense,com 70&lt;/span&gt;€&lt;span style=""&gt; pre trocados,uma valise de mão Louis Voitton falsier e um mapinha filho da puta.Não pensei duas vezes achei uma máquina que vende cartão telefonico e passe de metrô e gastei todos meus 70&lt;/span&gt;€.Já estava com 50% do meu caminho andado,peguei o cartão e liguei para o Mahmed,tinha certeza que ele iria me ajudar.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                        Quem atendeu foi um cara muito grosseiro com uma voz estranha pacas!Depois meu querido Mahmed atendeu o telefone e me ensinou como usar o mapinha para chegar na casa dele!Me senti a mulher mais sortuda do mundo!Que homem bom eu achei!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                      Quando cheguei em Montmartre,me perguntei se eu estava em Paris ou na Rocinha,me senti perdida e morta de medo.Não era a Paris blasair e branché que eu sonhava.E quanto mais perto estava chegando do restaurante do Vaclav mais estranho ficava.Até que bem perto das escadas da Sacré Cour encontrei um buraco na parede,perto das creperias de rua, escrito "Bistro Parissienne.Olhei duas vezes para confimar.Na segunda vez que olhei lá estava ele,na janelinha,o Mahmed!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                   Me emocionei,abrí um grande sorriso e,ele abriu a boca e disse&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                  *:"-Merde!Que esc que tu faire ici?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                ** "-J´ai ici pour toi,mon Mahmed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            ***  "-J´ai pas ton Mahmed!Sorte de ma creperie,foulle!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                 O cara fez uma cara de nojo que quebrou meu coração,e pior ainda eu estava vendo o Vaclav,mais a voz não era do Mahmed!Derrepente ouvi a voz do ,"meu Mahmed", e não conseguia achar ele.Olhei para os dois lados e não achei,mais quando eu olhei pra baixo,eu ví um senhor baixinho,gordinho e barrigudo,com uma camiseta do Brasil,do tri-campeonato,autografada por Tostão.A blusinha era tão pequenininha e ele tão barrigudo,que a barriga dele pulava fora,transformando a camiseta em um topzinho.Ele tinha um habito horrivel de coçar a bunda e cheirar o dedo.Era o Mahmed pai.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;             Mal me dei conta o hobbit começou a dançar e cantar o tchan em um sotaquezinho muito esquisito.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;               -"Segurrar tchon,amarrar tchon,segurrar tchon,tchon,tchon,tchon,tchon!&lt;br /&gt;             Desculpar filhon,ele ser muito grosson e não vê que ter brasileirra do bundon pra nossa diverçon.Desculpar eu,pois ser eu quem falava com você no computadorra e mandava foto do filhon pra você continuar a conversaçon,pois senon eu acabava no dançon.&lt;br /&gt;           Vem pra dentra da casa!Que vou fazer calor no casa pra você.Já preparei seu camon no quarto do filhon pra você dormir.Ele ser roncon e peidon ,mais com o tempo vem a acustumaçon.Benvinda ao meu creperia-cason,ma cherrie!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                Eu  não sabia se eu corria,ou gritava,fiquei com medo,muito medo!Descubri que as insinuações safadinhas dele era que ele trocou  o verbo "faire chaude",esquentar, em francês,com o verbo fazer calor.Inventei que eu não compreendia o portugues dele pra ele repetir tudo em francês.Na lingua dele ele tava sendo muito,legal,cordial e simpático.O Mahmed que eu conhecia.&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;br /&gt;            Vamos chamar Mahmed pai de Mahmedão e Mahmed filho de Mahmedinho para evitar trocas.Entrei na creperia só tinha a cozinha,eles dormiam na parte de cima da casa,em um apê de 3 quartos, o quarto do Mahmedão,o do Mahmedinho e o da internet,tv,etc.Quando eu entrei no quarto cansada e doida pra dormir,Mahmedinho entrou e disse:-"Merde!"Ele vai dormir no beliche de cima,é melhor que eu durma antes dele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;            Dia 3&lt;br /&gt;Querido ,Diario:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;                   Acordei com o quarto fedendo a peido.&lt;span style=""&gt;Ah&lt;/span&gt; Mahmed&lt;span style=""&gt;ão não cancelou a ída a "Torre Eifell". Logo de manhã ele pediu para o doce&lt;/span&gt; Mahmed&lt;span style=""&gt;inho ir comigo!Não teve sexo,e tive que aturar por todo o trajeto,a criatura mais doce do mundo falando "Merde"toda hora. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No topo da Torre notei uma coisa que mudou toda a historia, o "Merde" do Mahmedinho,não era raiva,era exitação.O cara realmente gostava de mim.Depois de muito tempo eu fui saber que essa é a forma que os franceses mostram amor e afeto a pessoa querida.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;       Na volta &lt;/span&gt;Mahmed&lt;span style=""&gt;ão fez para jantar aquele fundue de queijo que ele me ensinou,quando ele se fazia passar pelo filho na rede. Bá!Viva París!"Torre Eifell",mãos calejadas de carregar mala,vinho e fundue com gosto de bunda! &lt;/span&gt;Mahmed&lt;span style=""&gt;inho afirma que se não houver gosto de bunda não é o fundue do pai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Traduções:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Para poupar as traduções decidi escrever o resto das conversações em português.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;*"-Porra,o que você tá fazendo aqui!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;** "-Tou aqui só pra você meu Vaclav!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;*** "-Não sou seu Vaclav!Sai da minha creperia sua doida!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-903199888150824423?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/903199888150824423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=903199888150824423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/903199888150824423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/903199888150824423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/adriane-viaja.html' title='Adriane Viaja'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7867758305904042811</id><published>2008-06-21T15:46:00.008-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T16:01:00.585-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A vida amorosa de Adriane</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Minha primeira vez foi quase técnica.Eu tinha 26 anos e estava começando minha vida longe da família que tanto me reprimia.Estava livre para escolher quem eu quisesse sem medo de críticas .Coloquei um anúncio no jornal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Virgem de 26 anos procura alguem&lt;br /&gt;para compartir uma noite&lt;br /&gt;inesquecível"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O único que respondeu foi um recém formado em Física Astronomica.Um rapaz franzino de 20 anos ,ainda apegado a mãe e com uma síndrome de gênio.Saímos juntos para tomar cervejas depois levei ele pro meu apartamento.Foi frio e cauculista.E ainda por cima durante ele se deliciava com o progama do "Ratinho".Acabou e saiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Percebí que por mais moderna que nos denominamos temos a necessidade do sentimento e de um mínimo de consideração.Vem,come e desaparece.É este mesmo o sexo que se vê tão divulgado na mídia?É disso que uma sociedade que se diz moderna vive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria aproveitar minha independencia e ser livre.Provar que eu poderia me entregar sem emoções como os homens o fazem.Não tinha expectativas só queria mostrar que podia fazer como qualquer pessoa adulta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que pecado existe em querer alguem que lhe dê afeto?Ter alguem que se gosta ao lado virou um tabú dos tempos de nossas avós e bisavós.Ví que tive bem mais carinho ,intimidade e consideração em apertos de mão do que naquela trepada de meia tigela.E bote meia tigela nisto!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E eu tão besta que esperava a pessoa certa, no momento certo e no lugar certo.Passaram muitas pessoas na minha vida que valiam muito mais que aquele aspirante á Steven Hawking.E eu só esperava... Esperei tanto que passou o tempo de espera até que cansei de esperar e tomei uma iniciativa urgente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me arrependo do que eu fiz na verdade me arrependo do que eu deveria ter feito.De tantas pessoas que passaram pela minha vida de tantas oportunidades que eu gastei que poderiam ser as certas e eu não as usei por medo.Medo de críticas,medo da minha própia vergonha e medo daquela porra de camisinha não descer na descarga.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Como disse Gal Costa :"Amor livre não é para qualquer um"&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/19809061-7867758305904042811?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7867758305904042811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7867758305904042811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7867758305904042811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7867758305904042811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/vida-amorosa-de-adriane.html' title='A vida amorosa de Adriane'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7659339802493270762</id><published>2008-06-21T15:14:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T01:37:56.125-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Historias de Adriane</title><content type='html'>Meu nome é Adriane,tenho 32 anos,sou casada com,Mahmed, um francês descendente de tunisianos e tenho um casal de gemeos,chamados Romario e Garrincha,quem colocou o nome foi meu sogro que é maníaco por futbol brasileiro,pelo Brasil em geral.Sou formada em Comunicação Social e trabalho com edição de video.&lt;br /&gt;                          Não,minha vida não é igual a sua,ela é diferente.Perdi a virgindade com 26 anos,tarde pra cacete, e não foi com meu marido.Pode me considerar uma nerd de natureza.Passei minha juventude e boa parte da minha adolescencia namorando figurinhas estranhas que estudavam computação,usavam óculos fundo de garrafa e jogavam RPG.E como toda boa nerd da minha geração falava com pessoas de todas as partes do mundo pela internet,foi assim que conheci meu marido,e algumas pessoas mais.Porem não sou uma pessoa só cyber tenho amigos na vida real tambem,maioria pessoas que eu conhecí em IRContros dos chats locais na época do mIRC.&lt;br /&gt;                        Quando ninguem tá olhando,o que eu mais gosto de fazer é jogar videogame,não aqueles Playstations avançadíssimos,que meu marido tá doido pra comprar,mais aquele Super Nintendo,com Super Mario!Não se fazem mais jogos como antes!E eu só paro quando eu chego no castelo do Coopa!&lt;br /&gt;                       Não vão achando que eu sou uma alienada!Adoro cinema e diretores como Felini,Pier Paolo Passolini e Woody Allen(antes e depois de Match Point).Na música sou bem eclética gosto de Devo,Bjork e Blind Guardian.&lt;br /&gt;                     De hoje em diante,de vez em quando,vou abrir minha vida com vocês.Espero que gostem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7659339802493270762?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7659339802493270762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7659339802493270762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7659339802493270762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7659339802493270762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/historias-de-adriane.html' title='Historias de Adriane'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3844663870228682094</id><published>2008-06-11T02:05:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T02:53:13.621-03:00</updated><title type='text'>"Gita" (Idea for a movie)</title><content type='html'>Young irish seminarist,William O´Sullivan, receives a letter from India with a prayer request for a young dying 14 yearold girl,Gita Mason.In the letter he sees the picture of the girl and feels as if he has a mission of saving her and starts a dayly prayer.&lt;br /&gt;                                    Two months later he get´s a letter from Gita,now recovered thanking him for his prayers.This letter is the beguinning of a mutual correspondence between Gita and William.During the correspondence they find many things in common,and altho worlds appart they start to feel as close friends.In this time William is ordainned a priest and Gita is promised to get married with Ahmed.When the internet arrives the mutual chatting becomes more frequent with chatrooms and emails.Toghether they made a promise of meeting eachother in Mumbay,the day of Gita´s wedding.&lt;br /&gt;                                 Years pass  by and Gita and William are still friends,when William hears that his local parish is organizing a mission to Mumbay.William subscribes for the mission,not for the hope of helping others,but to finaly meet Gita.He writes to tell  Gita  there is finaly an opportunity for them to meet eachother.From this messege on he completly looses contact with Gita and all her references on the internet dissapear.William interprets this reaction as if Gita has fallen inlove with him,and decided to erase any connection he had with him,because he is a catholic priest and she is already promised to marry someone.&lt;br /&gt;                              This is the beguining of a mental wirlpool for William.He starts questioning his priesthood,his celibacy and his mental sanity.He definitly recognizes that his sexual celibacy was not for the church,but yes for Gita.William goes seek professional psychological help,because he thinks he has fallen inlove with a girl he invented.Altho he has in his hand all kinds of evidence this girl exists.&lt;br /&gt;                        In the psychoanalitical process he,discovered himself an atheist,and leaves priesthood and the city of Limerick t0 move to  London and open a book anthique shop with books about India.On his free time he starts singuing in a Spiritual Heavy Metal band called " Bhagavad Gita".&lt;br /&gt;                      He didn´t know but live itself was making for Will  a parth to finaly meet Gita.The band he has starts touring in India while he walked the streets of Mumbay he recognizes Gita.They  see eachother passing by,and both Will and Gita take a step back to make sure they weren´t dreaming.Both William and Gita hold eachother in a way they knew they where going to stay toghether  for the rest of their lives.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                              -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3844663870228682094?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3844663870228682094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3844663870228682094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3844663870228682094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3844663870228682094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/gita-idea-for-movie.html' title='&quot;Gita&quot; (Idea for a movie)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5149245776134912701</id><published>2008-06-10T12:51:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T13:11:43.798-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Rogir</title><content type='html'>Para que querer se matar&lt;br /&gt;                                                     No meio de uma camara negra de gás toxico&lt;br /&gt;                                                     Se no meio de tudo vem o vento&lt;br /&gt;                                                     E chega o espaço para voltar a respirar&lt;br /&gt;                                                     Ar puro&lt;br /&gt;                                                   &lt;br /&gt;                                                     Te ví naquele dia&lt;br /&gt;                                                     Você me olhou como dias d´antes &lt;br /&gt;                                                     Num calido frio&lt;br /&gt;                                                     E claro escuro sem fim&lt;br /&gt;                                                     Te tive devolta só por um segundo&lt;br /&gt;                                                     &lt;br /&gt;                                                    No teu sorriso era como se o tempo&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Não tivesse passado&lt;br /&gt;                                                    E essa fumaça escura que nos separa&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Não existisse&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Ainda guardo aquela flor&lt;br /&gt;                                                    E ainda existe o cheiro&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Límpido da pessoa que um dia&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Com os labios e a lingua no  meu peito&lt;br /&gt;                                                    Fez uma tarde de sexta-feira rugir&lt;br /&gt;                                                    E durar o dia inteiro&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                                                       -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5149245776134912701?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5149245776134912701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5149245776134912701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5149245776134912701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5149245776134912701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/rogir.html' title='Rogir'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-9107513886463336284</id><published>2008-06-06T12:33:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T02:28:48.236-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Minha vida em Londres</title><content type='html'>Ela acordou,desta vez de diploma na mão,e decidiu conhecer o mundo,apartir do seu de vista.As passagens,o curso,o albergue estão todos pagos,última contribuição de seus pais,de agora em diante é a vez dela se bancar.Depois de pequenos vôos este vai ser o vôo maior.Stepping outside she is free.&lt;br /&gt;                                                   &lt;br /&gt;                                                     Chegando no embarque,os beijos,os sorrisos,as lágrimas a despedida temporaria.Entrando no salão tudo que ela consegue fazer,enquanto espera pelo vôo é tomar uma cerveja.O passado e o daqui pra frente estão lado a lado.Se a decisão era certa ou errada não importava.Ela esta fazendo exatamento o que ela queria fazer á muito tempo.E não existem decepções quando a historia é realizar um grande sonho.Se ela conseguiu sobreviver e ser feliz aqui ela o conseguiria lá.&lt;br /&gt;                                              &lt;br /&gt;                                               Ao pegar o primeiro vôo,que seria a conecção,ela viu que tud0 começava.Travisseiros,plugs macios de ouvidos,cobertores,headphones e vendas.Decolagem,vista da cidade,núvens macias,filmes,musicas,conversas e uma boa dose de whisky com guaraná.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-9107513886463336284?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/9107513886463336284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=9107513886463336284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9107513886463336284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/9107513886463336284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/minha-vida-em-londres.html' title='Minha vida em Londres'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7207565618740555003</id><published>2008-06-05T14:26:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T14:45:12.362-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Poesia em prosa</title><content type='html'>Fui para uma balada em 1999.No tempo que balada não era sinonimo de festa,e sim uma música antiga e brega.Minha mãe estilou com o cabelo do meu amigo punk.Hoje esse amigo conseguiu uma bolsa de estudos no exterior e trabalha em Nova York.&lt;br /&gt;                                                  Minha mãe disse para ter cuidado com quem eu andava,porem as pessoas que ela não estilava,eram justamente as mais perigosas.O Saul indicou o novo CD do Otto,e juntos escutamos aquela musica do "Pina de Copacabana".&lt;br /&gt;                                                 Se este silencio um dia fosse quebrar,se o Recife,fosse denovo,um bom lugar para morar e ser jovem,não estariamos,sonhando com casamentos e apartamentos em Nova Iorque.&lt;br /&gt;                                                 Hoje aquele menino de mohicano toca seu violino no Carnaguie Hall uma sonata que faz lembrar as baladas que passamos juntos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7207565618740555003?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7207565618740555003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7207565618740555003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7207565618740555003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7207565618740555003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/06/poesia-em-prosa.html' title='Poesia em prosa'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8745015296208428932</id><published>2008-05-30T23:47:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T23:55:39.315-03:00</updated><title type='text'>And we drank from the fountain of youth</title><content type='html'>Good morning brother sun&lt;br /&gt;                                               Good evening sister moon&lt;br /&gt;                                               As I dive into the stars&lt;br /&gt;                                               Shine as if forever shines&lt;br /&gt;                                             &lt;br /&gt;                                              We go we glow toghether in the dark&lt;br /&gt;                                              We throw a stone on the river&lt;br /&gt;                                              Just to see how much it skips&lt;br /&gt;                                              We share an ice-cream&lt;br /&gt;                                              And go back to places we love&lt;br /&gt;                                               &lt;br /&gt;                                              Don´t be afraid to follow me&lt;br /&gt;                                              I will guide you down the way&lt;br /&gt;                                              Because we love the universe&lt;br /&gt;                                              The night will allways be ours&lt;br /&gt;                                                                   -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8745015296208428932?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8745015296208428932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8745015296208428932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8745015296208428932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8745015296208428932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/and-we-drank-from-fountain-of-youth.html' title='And we drank from the fountain of youth'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8673763408963234583</id><published>2008-05-30T23:23:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T23:42:07.804-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Land of love</title><content type='html'>In a line to the picture show&lt;br /&gt;                                            I saw the most gourgeous bloke in the world&lt;br /&gt;                                            Wearing a Pink Floyd shirt&lt;br /&gt;                                            He had a flower power look in his eyes&lt;br /&gt;                                            And it all seemed to shine in his perfect smile&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                           So I approached him and told him&lt;br /&gt;                                           Nice guys like Pink Floyd&lt;br /&gt;                                           He ansewered back he would wear it more often&lt;br /&gt;                                           So the pretty boy always whore it&lt;br /&gt;                                           Because he liked the smile on my face&lt;br /&gt;                                         &lt;br /&gt;                                          I miss the beautiful boy&lt;br /&gt;                                         And the gourgeous look in his eyes&lt;br /&gt;                                         I need his smile to embrace me&lt;br /&gt;                                         Back to a beautiful land called love&lt;br /&gt;                                             &lt;br /&gt;                                                  -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8673763408963234583?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8673763408963234583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8673763408963234583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8673763408963234583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8673763408963234583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/land-of-love.html' title='Land of love'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4025944248264238285</id><published>2008-05-30T14:46:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T16:13:02.750-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The Buquet (english version)</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;/h3&gt;                                  (Isa´s point of view)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today,at my brother´s wedding,I´m going to dress up as my best.Max,my childhood friend,I quite fancy is going to be there.And my brother also invited his stupid new girlfriend Siobhan over!That bouquet has to be mines ao I can win Max´s heart and soul for keeps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Siobhan´s point of view)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my lucky day!After two years of dating the wrong blokes I finally found Mr.Right,Mr Maximillian Right .Max has been everything for me these days,the only thing I bloddy hate,is that he allways brings his annoying friend,Isa ,along!I just can´t follow when they start to talk about Focault,Woody Allen and Belle and Sebastian!&lt;br /&gt;The only good part about knowing Isa was knowing her brother,Peter,who also knows Max for years.The good news is that,Peter´s going to get married and he invited me and Max to the wedding party.At the party,with my long life expecience as a goalkeeper in footy,I will grab the bouquet and Max is going to ask me to marry him!I so wanna see Isa´s face after that!&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;(Max´s point of view)&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;My main mate Peter just invited me and my hot arsed girlfriend Siobhan to his wedding.I feel this is going to be a bloddy good wedding!Who´s going to be there also,is my best female friend,Isa,Pete´s sister .Everyone I like is going to be there.&lt;br /&gt;It´s been six months I´ve been going off with Siobhan,she has a wonderful body!Large breasts,wasp waist,sexy arse and a lovely long pair of legs she likes to show off in a mini-short.She´s not so bright,yet she´s open to learn new things.&lt;br /&gt;Isa is a completly differet person,I know everything about "Shorty",as I like to call her. She´s completly intelectual,intelligent and loves to go backpacking in Snowdonia.It´s so hard for me to have something with her,´cause she´s like a sister to me,and when she´s not like a sister to me,surprise,she has a boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Once we wen´t backpacking in Snowdonia Isa,Siobhan and I.At night me and Isa sat by the fire and had a nice chat.We discussed,Focault and Woody Allen,then we spent the rest of the night singuing Belle and Sebastian songs.But the night was a bit dull because Siobhan spent it locked in the barrack afraid of the flies and anaconda .Me and Isa had to spend hours explaining to her that anaconda only exist at the Amazon forest in Brazil,not in Britain.&lt;br /&gt;All that I wish for in my like is that a mix of both Isa and Siobhan appeared to me in my life.An Isaoban,that would make me the happiest man alive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  (Isa´s mother point of view)&lt;br /&gt;Today it was my son´s wedding,it was to be the happiest day of my life.Yet I had the disgrace of having three people I love making me cringe.&lt;br /&gt;When my daughter-in-law threw the bouquet I saw my daughter and my daughter´s best friend girlfriend rushing in like savages.They played tug of war with the bouquet,then they slapped,scratched and kicked eachother.I saw them calling eachother names like "you stupid chav scum","Cunt" and "Jabroni".&lt;br /&gt;And what was worse was seeying that Maximillian Right boy watching all that with a huge smile on his face as if he was watching a bloddy "French and Sounders" episode.&lt;br /&gt;At that moment I knew the two girls wheren´t fighting over the bouquet,they where fighting over Max!&lt;br /&gt;At that moment I did what no one else dared to do.I raised from my chair,got the two girls appart,took the bouquet from their hands and told my daughter-in-law to throw it again,because it ended in the hands of two immature young women unfit for marriage.&lt;br /&gt;On the second throw something magical happened,a lovely little five yearold girl caught the bouquet!It was such a sweet image!&lt;br /&gt;The little girl approached Isa and Siobhan and told them with a sweet voice: -"Stop crying,I have the bouquet!"&lt;br /&gt;And the adults left their issues behind for the mercy of a sweet little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                         -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4025944248264238285?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4025944248264238285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4025944248264238285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4025944248264238285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4025944248264238285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/buquet-english-version.html' title='The Buquet (english version)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8304756125532410045</id><published>2008-05-30T13:07:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T14:20:45.152-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O Buquê</title><content type='html'>(Na visão de Isa)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;               No casamento do meu irmão  me arrumei todinha.Fazia alguns meses que eu começara a me interessar pelo José,meu amigo de infancia.Meu irmão teve a desgraça de convida-lo junto com a Magda,uma debiloide que o José tava tendo um rolinho.Eu tinha que pegar aquele buquê,custe a  quem custar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  (Na visão de Magda)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;             Hoje é meu dia de sorte,depois de dois anos ficando com os errados enfim arranjei o homen certo.O José tem sido tudo pra min,mesmo que nas nossas saidas ele leve de gaiato a chata da Isa!Eu odeio quando os dois começam a discutir todo empolgados Focault,Woody Allen e Belle and Sebastian!&lt;br /&gt;           Porem,ter conhecido a chata da Isa teve um lado bom,conhecemos o irmão dela,Pedro,que conhece o José faz anos.A boa noticia é que o Pedro vai se casar e ele convidou eu e o José.Na festa concertesa com minha experiencia de anos de goleira,eu pegarei este buquê e o José vai me pedir em casamento!Aí eu quero ver a cara da Isa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            (Na visão do José)&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;br /&gt;            Meu amigão firmeza,Pedro,chamou eu e a gostosona da Magda pro casamento dele!Puta que pariu vai ser um camento muito foda!Quem vai tá lá é a irmã responsa dele que tambem é minha amigona a Isa.Esse casamento promete ser a festa foda do século.&lt;br /&gt;          Faz uns seis meses que eu ando dando uns "pega" na Magda,aqui pra nós,que mulher foda,caraca!Ela tem uns peitões,cinturinha fininha,uma bundona gostosona e umas pernas de dar inveja a qualquer Ana Hickman.Ela não é lá muito inteligente,porem esta disposta a aprender.&lt;br /&gt;          A Isa,é outra historia meu,conheço a baixinha pacas.Intelectual,inteligente,adora mochilar na Chapada Diamantina.Dificil é conseguir algo com ela,pois vejo ela quase como uma irmã,e nos dias que eu não vejo ela como uma irmã ela tá de namorado.&lt;br /&gt;         Uma vez fomos mochilar na Chapada eu,a Isa e a Magda.De noite foi muito massa eu e a Isa ficamos discutindo Focault,Woody Allen e cantando musicas de Belle and Sebastian na fogueira.A única coisa que foi meio chata foi ver a Magda trancada na barraca com medo dos mosquitos e dos ursos.Eu e a Isa tivemos que explicar horas pra ela que ursos só existem nos Estados Unidos.&lt;br /&gt;        Tudo que eu queria na vida é que me aparecesse alguem que fosse uma mistura da Isa e da Magda,uma Iságda.Essa aí,se existisse,ganhava meu coração na hora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                     (no casamento na visão do buquê de flores copo-de-leite)&lt;br /&gt;                  Me jogaram pro na pras mãos de várias mulheres desesperadas.Foi aí que tudo começou.Passei por várias mãos,até que eu parei nas mãos de uma baixinha e de uma altona do bundão.&lt;br /&gt;                Me fizeram de cabo-de-guerra,ouvi palavras como "quenga","feia"e"piriguete".Foram tápas,chutes,puxões de cabelos e arranhões.Acho que naquele momento eu não representava mais ser um buquê e sim o rapaz que olhava tudo aquilo com uma cara de entretenimento.&lt;br /&gt;               Até que veio uma pessoa mais velha para me salvar apartou as duas briguentas e disse que aquela vez que me jogaram foi "marmelada",pois as duas pessoas que pegaram não estavam maduras o demasiado para um casamento.&lt;br /&gt;              Na segunda vez que me jogaram parei nas mãos de uma menininha que estava segurando uma bonequinha e coincidentemente vestida como a bonequinha.Ela chegou perto das meninas que tavam brigando e disse:-"Titia,chore não,peguei buquê!"&lt;br /&gt;              Foi a melhor coisa que poderia ter me acontecido!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8304756125532410045?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8304756125532410045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8304756125532410045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8304756125532410045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8304756125532410045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/o-buqu.html' title='O Buquê'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3962262818868871455</id><published>2008-05-29T19:41:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T19:56:10.575-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Um barzinho,dois amigos e um jukebox</title><content type='html'>Tudo que me faz feliz&lt;br /&gt;                                         Não está no luxo&lt;br /&gt;                                         Nem em esbanjar compania de pessoas ricas e importantes&lt;br /&gt;                                         Na noite eu quero só mais duas pessoas legais&lt;br /&gt;                                         Uma garrafa de vinho barato&lt;br /&gt;                                         E uma radiola de fichas&lt;br /&gt;                                         &lt;br /&gt;                                         Sou uma pessoa que considero pacas&lt;br /&gt;                                        Aqueles que falam a verdade na lata&lt;br /&gt;                                        Sorria quem sorrir&lt;br /&gt;                                        Doa a quem doer&lt;br /&gt;                                         &lt;br /&gt;                                        Odeio amigos falsos &lt;br /&gt;                                        E pessoas que sentem pena&lt;br /&gt;                                        Robam copos em bares hoje&lt;br /&gt;                                        Pois estas pessoas feias,sujas e corruptas&lt;br /&gt;                                        Que reclamam tanto da corrupção&lt;br /&gt;                                        Seram os vereadores,deputados e senadores&lt;br /&gt;                                        Que iram nos iludir com falsas promessas&lt;br /&gt;                                         Para roubar o dinheiro da nossa nação&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3962262818868871455?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3962262818868871455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3962262818868871455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3962262818868871455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3962262818868871455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/um-barzinhodois-amigos-e-um-jukebox.html' title='Um barzinho,dois amigos e um jukebox'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6381684023954494558</id><published>2008-05-29T14:00:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T14:10:24.244-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Haiku</title><content type='html'>Before it bleeds theres allways anxiety&lt;br /&gt;                                         Yet after it bleeds you see a reason for opportunity&lt;br /&gt;                                         And cycles like wheels they can turn around&lt;br /&gt;                                         Like a gentle wind of possibilities&lt;br /&gt;                                           &lt;br /&gt;                                                                 -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6381684023954494558?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6381684023954494558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6381684023954494558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6381684023954494558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6381684023954494558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/haiku.html' title='Haiku'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1375008570069523427</id><published>2008-05-23T19:10:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T19:21:24.168-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Para um certo João de Gales</title><content type='html'>Se te amo e não me amas de volta&lt;br /&gt;                                 Não me ofereças falsas promesas&lt;br /&gt;                                 Nem cristais reluzentes&lt;br /&gt;                                 Pois podem ser quebrados&lt;br /&gt;                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                 Se passas com seu cavalo&lt;br /&gt;                                 Pela minha frente&lt;br /&gt;                                 Não alimentes em min falsas esperanças&lt;br /&gt;                                 Siga seu caminho e me ignore&lt;br /&gt;                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                Pois um certo cavalheiro André da Cornualha&lt;br /&gt;                                Cavalgou comigo e me ofereceu um cristal reluzente&lt;br /&gt;                                E sem que eu me desse conta&lt;br /&gt;                                Me  jogou fora do cavalo e quebrou nosso cristal&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                               O dia esta perto que você vai ver em min&lt;br /&gt;                               Sua companheira de cavalgadas por este reino&lt;br /&gt;                              Você sentira na forma que eu gosto de você um certo encanto&lt;br /&gt;                              Nesta hora quero que me ofereças sua flôr envez do seu cristal&lt;br /&gt;                              Pois elas são mais belas e graciosas e mais eternas&lt;br /&gt;                              Você estenderá a mão eu subirei no cavalo&lt;br /&gt;                              E juntos iremos cavalgar por este reino infinito&lt;br /&gt;                                                       -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1375008570069523427?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1375008570069523427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1375008570069523427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1375008570069523427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1375008570069523427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/para-um-certo-joo-de-gales.html' title='Para um certo João de Gales'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4544016086245955941</id><published>2008-05-20T12:01:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T12:10:20.701-03:00</updated><title type='text'>God among us</title><content type='html'>The gates are open&lt;br /&gt;                                  Someone else can join in&lt;br /&gt;                                  We can have so much fun&lt;br /&gt;                                  When we are not the only ones&lt;br /&gt;                                  Who have the same dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 I always had this dream&lt;br /&gt;                                 Where we wheren´t lonely&lt;br /&gt;                                 We shared our dreams and fantasies&lt;br /&gt;                                 With other people&lt;br /&gt;                                 We where not the only and lonly ones&lt;br /&gt;                                  In this world&lt;br /&gt;                                &lt;br /&gt;                                   My mother always said  &lt;br /&gt;                                   Where there´s three or more people&lt;br /&gt;                                   Sharing a goal and a idea&lt;br /&gt;                                   God will be among them&lt;br /&gt;                                   So let´s let god be among us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                 -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4544016086245955941?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4544016086245955941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4544016086245955941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4544016086245955941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4544016086245955941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/god-among-us.html' title='God among us'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3627784499153555165</id><published>2008-05-18T02:05:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T02:18:09.462-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Drika</title><content type='html'>Amigo forte amigo vida&lt;br /&gt;                                               Te carrego por dentro do ventre&lt;br /&gt;                                               Te carrego por dentro do olhar&lt;br /&gt;                                                Na minh´alma&lt;br /&gt;                                               Que agora vibra&lt;br /&gt;                                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                               Existem musicas e poesias&lt;br /&gt;                                               Aquelas noites mal dormidas&lt;br /&gt;                                               Bate-papos e bebidas&lt;br /&gt;                                               Saudades dos dias de Minas&lt;br /&gt;                                               &lt;br /&gt;                                               Longe dos olhos e perto do peito&lt;br /&gt;                                               Existe uma saudade de alguem&lt;br /&gt;                                               Que quero muito bem&lt;br /&gt;                                               E muito respeito&lt;br /&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;                                                          -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3627784499153555165?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3627784499153555165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3627784499153555165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3627784499153555165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3627784499153555165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/drika.html' title='Drika'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7663371531220062846</id><published>2008-05-16T16:54:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T17:07:51.407-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Coisês</title><content type='html'>Encontrei Seu Coiso aqui&lt;br /&gt;                                     Aquele que eu andei coisando faz tanto tempo&lt;br /&gt;                                     Sem Dona Coisinha a lhe acompanhar&lt;br /&gt;                                     Por favor minha tia esta na hora de rezar&lt;br /&gt;                                     Estou aqui no banheiro ligando do celular&lt;br /&gt;                                     Pra santo coiso aquele santo coisador das coisas&lt;br /&gt;                                     &lt;br /&gt;                                    Este coiso ascelerou o meu coração&lt;br /&gt;                                    Deixou meu corpo cheio de tesão&lt;br /&gt;                                    Todo coisado de paixão&lt;br /&gt;                                    &lt;br /&gt;                                     Estou aqui neste fim de semana&lt;br /&gt;                                     Numa coisa que eu sabia que ele iria estar&lt;br /&gt;                                     Eu sei que ele tambem é coisado por min&lt;br /&gt;                                     Faz um tempinho&lt;br /&gt;                                    &lt;br /&gt;                                    Teve uma briga com Dona Coisinha&lt;br /&gt;                                    Esta sozinho&lt;br /&gt;                                    Agora tenho que coisar&lt;br /&gt;                                    Tenho que chegar perto&lt;br /&gt;                                    Vamos começar uma coisação agorinha&lt;br /&gt;                                    Tenho que tomar uma cervejinha&lt;br /&gt;                                    E de agora em diante&lt;br /&gt;                                    Eu serei a  nova Dona Coisinha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                  -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7663371531220062846?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7663371531220062846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7663371531220062846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7663371531220062846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7663371531220062846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/coiss.html' title='Coisês'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-928759359795755817</id><published>2008-05-14T13:03:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T13:23:14.771-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sol ,arco-iris e cruzes</title><content type='html'>Não agüento&lt;br /&gt;                                             A máquina incansavel da corrupção&lt;br /&gt;                                             Gente que pede o fim da violencia&lt;br /&gt;                                             Com a arma na mão&lt;br /&gt;                                             Elite filha da puta&lt;br /&gt;                                             Que só fala mas não luta&lt;br /&gt;                                             A dona Dita diz que a vida esta&lt;br /&gt;                                             Cada vez mais dura&lt;br /&gt;                                             Ela só vê cruzes na praia&lt;br /&gt;                                             Mas a violencia nossa de cada dia&lt;br /&gt;                                             Não para&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             Me cansei deste jogo&lt;br /&gt;                                             Me cansei desta nata&lt;br /&gt;                                             Me cansei deste povo&lt;br /&gt;                                             Doente e sociopata&lt;br /&gt;                                             Que te nega ajuda&lt;br /&gt;                                             Que só pensa em sí&lt;br /&gt;                                             E querem te fazer desistir&lt;br /&gt;                                             &lt;br /&gt;                                             Nunca deixe que envenenem teu fruto&lt;br /&gt;                                             Querem  esquecer&lt;br /&gt;                                             O seu direito de ter  luto&lt;br /&gt;                                             Não espere que os outro façam por ti&lt;br /&gt;                                             Por que eles por si estão cegos&lt;br /&gt;                                                     -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-928759359795755817?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/928759359795755817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=928759359795755817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/928759359795755817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/928759359795755817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/sol-arco-iris-e-cruzes.html' title='Sol ,arco-iris e cruzes'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2537303809508723155</id><published>2008-05-12T18:08:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T18:32:55.285-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Stultifera Navis</title><content type='html'>Vamos todos navegar&lt;br /&gt;                                 Fui levada pelo mar &lt;br /&gt;                                 A uma viagem pela cura&lt;br /&gt;                                &lt;br /&gt;                                 Se toda entrada tem uma saida&lt;br /&gt;                                 Esta dor este corte&lt;br /&gt;                                 Ainda esta na minha vida&lt;br /&gt;                                 E tudo que eu queria era pedir ajuda&lt;br /&gt;                                 &lt;br /&gt;                                 Querem me afogar &lt;br /&gt;                                 Querem me calar&lt;br /&gt;                                 Querem tirar o fogo que ainda me resta&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                                Se até uma bala&lt;br /&gt;                                Tem um caminho de saida&lt;br /&gt;                                Se até tsunamis chegam na areia&lt;br /&gt;                                Se eu soubesse que iria ser assim&lt;br /&gt;                                Teria guardado minha melancolia&lt;br /&gt;                                Só para mim&lt;br /&gt;                               &lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                                                       -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2537303809508723155?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2537303809508723155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2537303809508723155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2537303809508723155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2537303809508723155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/stultifera-navis.html' title='Stultifera Navis'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-493339449776454949</id><published>2008-05-07T14:47:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T14:48:13.688-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The hunter in a lover(The Stalker)</title><content type='html'>Standing alone out in the blue&lt;br /&gt;                           The party has just began&lt;br /&gt;                           Mascarade and music&lt;br /&gt;                           Smoke a fag&lt;br /&gt;                           You cannot loose it&lt;br /&gt;                           &lt;br /&gt;                           Untill you notice him there&lt;br /&gt;                           And you remember all those moments&lt;br /&gt;                           He was your lover and friend&lt;br /&gt;                           Avoid to approach him&lt;br /&gt;                           You will regret it afterwards&lt;br /&gt;                           When you wake up beside him&lt;br /&gt;                           The next day&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;br /&gt;                          When you see someone you loved&lt;br /&gt;                           Make sure you don´t greet him&lt;br /&gt;                          ´Cause when a lover comes by&lt;br /&gt;                           A hunter lyes within&lt;br /&gt;                            &lt;br /&gt;                           And you know&lt;br /&gt;                           He will come after you&lt;br /&gt;                          ´Cause he remembers all of the times&lt;br /&gt;                           He has been with you&lt;br /&gt;                           There´s allways a hunter in a lover&lt;br /&gt;                           And he will chase you&lt;br /&gt;                           Untill he gets you&lt;br /&gt;                           &lt;br /&gt;                                 -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-493339449776454949?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/493339449776454949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=493339449776454949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/493339449776454949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/493339449776454949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/hunter-in-loverthe-stalker.html' title='The hunter in a lover(The Stalker)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-563146908056578528</id><published>2008-05-06T01:31:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T01:34:03.929-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Se você vai morar na Europa(2005)</title><content type='html'>Como superar o frio do inverno Europeu:&lt;br /&gt;                                              Quem nunca sonhou em ir morar na Europa que atire o primeiro chaveirinho da Torre Eifell.Mas,nos do Patropi temos que ver os porens junto com o que ha de bom no velho mundo.&lt;br /&gt;                                             Os fiordes escandinavos,os castelos medievais na França,as gôndolas na Italia,tudo isso faz parte do imaginario latino em relaçâo a Europa.&lt;br /&gt;                                            Quem nunca enfrentou um clima mais frio que 15 graus pode demorar um pouco para se acustumar a um clima de -15 graus por exemplo.Recomendo usar por debaixo de tudo uma camiseta de algodâo,para ajudar a aquecer o corpo,e dê graças a deus por existir as calças jeans,elas aquecem mesmo.Outra coisa que ajuda muito no frio é encontrar um lugar que ninguem vê e ,discretamente,dar alguns pulinhos,eles aquecem mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;                                          O frio de inverno nâo tem nada a ver com aquele frio de ar condicionado,eles doem até o osso!Da mesma forma que precisamos de agua neste calor tropical,precisamos de um cafe quentinho no clima frio.Mesmo nenhuma das dicas anteriores ajudou você a espantar o frio um cafezinho em uma "Cofee Shop" é tiro e queda.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-563146908056578528?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/563146908056578528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=563146908056578528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/563146908056578528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/563146908056578528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/se-voc-vai-morar-na-europa2005.html' title='Se você vai morar na Europa(2005)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8681513079114782104</id><published>2008-05-06T01:30:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T01:30:43.583-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Groupie(2005)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Queria ser uma groupie dos anos 70 &lt;br /&gt;        Sem medo de gravidez ou aids &lt;br /&gt;        Ter a mente livre para pensar o que eu quero &lt;br /&gt;        Amar sem ter peso na consciencia &lt;br /&gt;        Me vestir de flores e ser chamada de Penny Lane &lt;br /&gt;        Queria amar como se fosse uma arte &lt;br /&gt;        Pessoas interessantes que colaboraram &lt;br /&gt;        Com a formação de tantas pessoas&lt;br /&gt;        Colocar uma bata florida,jeans rasgados &lt;br /&gt;        E não estar nem aí pro meu cabelo&lt;br /&gt;        Um perfume de patchuli sobre meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;        E a certeza que eu sou a mulher escolhida &lt;br /&gt;        Pois terei confiança no homen que eu escolherei &lt;br /&gt;        Me olhar no espelho e gostar de ser mulher &lt;br /&gt;        Muito mais que a menina veneno &lt;br /&gt;        E a garota de ipanema &lt;br /&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;        Que opções teria hoje?&lt;br /&gt;        Não existem Jimmy Pages,nem Mick Jaggers e nem Steven Tylers &lt;br /&gt;        Relaxo a cabeça e tento sonhar &lt;br /&gt;        Com Belle and Sebastian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8681513079114782104?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8681513079114782104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8681513079114782104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8681513079114782104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8681513079114782104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/groupie2005.html' title='Groupie(2005)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6165117366023124464</id><published>2008-05-06T01:28:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T01:29:09.610-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The Memory(poem from 2005)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you hold &lt;br /&gt;All those years of useless silence &lt;br /&gt;As if what happen with us never happened &lt;br /&gt;I can see no anger &lt;br /&gt;Only a person who erased his passed &lt;br /&gt;Why is forgiveness is so hard for us ? &lt;br /&gt;Why only a smile became so hard? &lt;br /&gt;For to hearts who wheretoghether &lt;br /&gt;We live as our roads didn´t cross &lt;br /&gt;On the day we crashed &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We try to forguet something happened &lt;br /&gt;So we live as it never happened &lt;br /&gt;And suddenly it is &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered the way we saw in eachothers faces &lt;br /&gt;And how we swalled it inside &lt;br /&gt;How we danced and laught toghether &lt;br /&gt;Drawings,cartoons and poetry &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It´s crazy how we got over it &lt;br /&gt;And started living again &lt;br /&gt;Discovering happiness allover again &lt;br /&gt;Away from the bitterness we used to feel &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today as we try to say hi &lt;br /&gt;You became a trivial stranger &lt;br /&gt;I hope you loose the bitterness in your heart &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/19809061-6165117366023124464?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6165117366023124464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6165117366023124464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6165117366023124464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6165117366023124464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/memorypoem-from-2005.html' title='The Memory(poem from 2005)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8802616521399711978</id><published>2008-05-06T01:26:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T01:27:55.571-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Orgasmo(poesia de 2005)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quero ser a mulher solta  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quero ser aquela que escolhe  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quero ser aquela que sabe  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quero ser Pagu e pagã  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quero ser a Leila Diniz  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sou a mulher centenária  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sou o sonho de muitas meninas  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sou a mulher que sempre sabe quem é  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sou a anti-amelia  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Guerreira do fogo  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Que se joga na água  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quando sente falta de ar  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;E sempre procura terra firm&lt;/span&gt;e&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/19809061-8802616521399711978?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8802616521399711978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8802616521399711978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8802616521399711978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8802616521399711978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/orgasmopoesia-de-2005.html' title='Orgasmo(poesia de 2005)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2123562577872519139</id><published>2008-05-06T00:50:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T01:11:50.689-03:00</updated><title type='text'>As tardes afternoons</title><content type='html'>We´ve spent the afternoon&lt;br /&gt;                                          Holding eachother&lt;br /&gt;                                          In a beautiful shape&lt;br /&gt;                                          The smell and taste&lt;br /&gt;                                          Of your body near mines&lt;br /&gt;                                         &lt;br /&gt;                                          We had met&lt;br /&gt;                                          Not so long ago&lt;br /&gt;                                          Yet intimacy pull us closer&lt;br /&gt;                                          Over the window&lt;br /&gt;                                          The world seemed senseless&lt;br /&gt;                                           When I was in your arms&lt;br /&gt;                                           When the world was&lt;br /&gt;                                           My lovers eyes&lt;br /&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;                                          Corpo a corpo se sentia&lt;br /&gt;                                          Na pele daquele que era&lt;br /&gt;                                          Meu amante&lt;br /&gt;                                          Cada lambida&lt;br /&gt;                                          Cada mordida&lt;br /&gt;                                          Cada cheiro&lt;br /&gt;                                          Como fruta proibida&lt;br /&gt;                                          &lt;br /&gt;                                         Hoje aquela sensação é guardada&lt;br /&gt;                                         Na memoria sentimental da minha pele&lt;br /&gt;                                         Quero ser aquela mulher livre denovo&lt;br /&gt;                                         Aquela mulher feita de fogo&lt;br /&gt;                                         Aquela mulher bela feita de sentido&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                        Quando te amava&lt;br /&gt;                                        Isto a muito tempo&lt;br /&gt;                                        Meu amor por ti era certeiro&lt;br /&gt;                                        Naquela tarde que passamos juntos&lt;br /&gt;                                        Abrimos a janela e vimos o Cordeiro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                       Agora o tempo passou&lt;br /&gt;                                       Virei mulher&lt;br /&gt;                                       Encontrei outro amante&lt;br /&gt;                                         &lt;br /&gt;                                      Nosso destino cruzou&lt;br /&gt;                                      E tivemos a  nossa tarde&lt;br /&gt;                                      E como se o tempo não passasse&lt;br /&gt;                                      Abrimos a janela e vimos Montparnasse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                 -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2123562577872519139?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2123562577872519139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2123562577872519139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2123562577872519139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2123562577872519139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/as-tardes-afternoons.html' title='As tardes afternoons'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1776780999868352915</id><published>2008-05-05T00:55:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T02:00:20.933-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday lunch time</title><content type='html'>When you arrive&lt;br /&gt;                              You make me feel&lt;br /&gt;                              Bright red&lt;br /&gt;                              You make me&lt;br /&gt;                              Want to wish&lt;br /&gt;                               I wasn´t there&lt;br /&gt;                              So hold me tight and kiss me&lt;br /&gt;                               Before´s too late&lt;br /&gt;                               &lt;br /&gt;                              You make me&lt;br /&gt;                              Wanna leave the room&lt;br /&gt;                              You make me&lt;br /&gt;                              Wish I was out too soon&lt;br /&gt;                              To avoid dirty moves&lt;br /&gt;                              And second thoughts&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                             So if I close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;                             And sing softly when we dance&lt;br /&gt;                              I hope you understand&lt;br /&gt;                             It´s your turn to&lt;br /&gt;                             Make the moves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     -x-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1776780999868352915?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1776780999868352915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1776780999868352915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1776780999868352915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1776780999868352915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/sunday-matine.html' title='Saturday lunch time'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7694330964494217369</id><published>2008-05-05T00:11:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T00:25:38.429-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Bowlie weekender</title><content type='html'>Ode to the old&lt;br /&gt;            Bowlie weekender girl&lt;br /&gt;            Where does she stands&lt;br /&gt;            With her cardigan and lunch bag&lt;br /&gt;             &lt;br /&gt;            Looking for the one&lt;br /&gt;            Canterbury Crescent&lt;span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Her hands are cold&lt;br /&gt;            She buys mittens &lt;br /&gt;            Just to keep them warm&lt;br /&gt;             &lt;br /&gt;            I know the one&lt;br /&gt;            Who will hold me&lt;br /&gt;            I know the one&lt;br /&gt;            Who forever will be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            She has flowers on her hands&lt;br /&gt;            She´s kneeling down&lt;br /&gt;            And placing them &lt;br /&gt;            On the sidewalk&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;           Ode to the old&lt;br /&gt;           Bowlie weekender love&lt;br /&gt;           Where eyes meet&lt;br /&gt;           And a fire it´s set free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           He is the one&lt;br /&gt;           Who will hold her&lt;br /&gt;           He is the one&lt;br /&gt;           Who forever will be&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;          Now she will be&lt;br /&gt;          Set free&lt;br /&gt;          Lovers will run&lt;br /&gt;          In to the gree&lt;br /&gt;          They´ll make love&lt;br /&gt;          By the icy lake&lt;br /&gt;          To fall inlove&lt;br /&gt;          It´s never too late&lt;br /&gt;                -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7694330964494217369?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7694330964494217369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7694330964494217369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7694330964494217369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7694330964494217369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/bowlie-weekender.html' title='Bowlie weekender'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3834261333961762063</id><published>2008-05-01T19:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T19:35:21.879-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Twinings Earl Gray Tea</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://bestuff.com/images/images_of_stuff/210x600/twinings-100573.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first you seemed so warm&lt;br /&gt;Yet your smell was so strong&lt;br /&gt;There was no way&lt;br /&gt;I could not get attracted to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I awayted for you to cool off&lt;br /&gt;And I got closer&lt;br /&gt;Just to see&lt;br /&gt;What you where all about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From your taste I could see&lt;br /&gt;You where different than the others&lt;br /&gt;You didn´t try to please&lt;br /&gt;You just pleased&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So every morning&lt;br /&gt;We used to see eachother&lt;br /&gt;For another pleasant meeting&lt;br /&gt;Your smell&lt;br /&gt;Your taste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Untill one day&lt;br /&gt;It was all over&lt;br /&gt;I know how to find you again&lt;br /&gt;So we can play this&lt;br /&gt;One more time&lt;br /&gt;    -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3834261333961762063?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3834261333961762063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3834261333961762063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3834261333961762063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3834261333961762063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/twinings-earl-gray-tea.html' title='Twinings Earl Gray Tea'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2441522215701922673</id><published>2008-05-01T19:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T19:02:02.966-03:00</updated><title type='text'>For Aero mint bars</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/6/6f/AeroMint.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I saw you&lt;br /&gt;I was 15 years old&lt;br /&gt;And you where on top of my bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unwraped you&lt;br /&gt;You showed no resistense&lt;br /&gt;So I´ve split&lt;br /&gt;The first tablet in half&lt;br /&gt;And place in in my mouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You slowly melted inside me&lt;br /&gt;Giving me a plesureble sensation&lt;br /&gt;I tasted you slowly&lt;br /&gt;Because I knew you came&lt;br /&gt;From far away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such an amazing experience&lt;br /&gt;I´ve saved the last tablet&lt;br /&gt;For my best friend&lt;br /&gt;The next day at school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look what my father brought me&lt;br /&gt;From England&lt;br /&gt;My friend said she had the same experience&lt;br /&gt;In this world theres´s no better chocolate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2441522215701922673?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2441522215701922673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2441522215701922673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2441522215701922673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2441522215701922673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/for-aero-mint-bars.html' title='For Aero mint bars'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4520685304269909713</id><published>2008-05-01T18:13:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T18:22:48.595-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Suda America</title><content type='html'>Si te quieres ir&lt;br /&gt;                            No olvides tu nombre&lt;br /&gt;                            No olvides quien amaste&lt;br /&gt;                            No olvides quien fuiste&lt;br /&gt;                              &lt;br /&gt;                           Esto dijo mi abuela&lt;br /&gt;                           El dia que se murrio&lt;br /&gt;                           Para que me fuera en paz&lt;br /&gt;                           Y que no me olvidara de yo&lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;br /&gt;                           Me voy a tierras altas&lt;br /&gt;                           Risas alegres y tristes&lt;br /&gt;                           Lista para liberarme&lt;br /&gt;                           Para ser quien siempre quise&lt;br /&gt;                            &lt;br /&gt;                           Vuela golondrina vuela&lt;br /&gt;                           Hacia la eterdinidad&lt;br /&gt;                           Besos a mi familia&lt;br /&gt;                           Abrazos al hombre&lt;br /&gt;                           Que debo amar&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;br /&gt;                            El cuchillo  hacia el ombligo&lt;br /&gt;                            Hace una herida eterna&lt;br /&gt;                            La boca hacia el deseo&lt;br /&gt;                            Deja unas ganas buenas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                          -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4520685304269909713?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4520685304269909713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4520685304269909713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4520685304269909713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4520685304269909713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/05/suda-america.html' title='Suda America'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7268530452143713987</id><published>2008-04-30T19:15:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T19:22:29.113-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A.F.B.S.L.</title><content type='html'>Muitos tentam trazer a dor que você me trouxe&lt;br /&gt;                        Porem sua vacina me deu anticorpos&lt;br /&gt;                        Para agüentar&lt;br /&gt;                        E expurgar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        Sinto dentro do corpo de ser de ferro&lt;br /&gt;                        Coisas ruims acontece&lt;br /&gt;                        A dor passa&lt;br /&gt;                        E não deixam marcas&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;                       Eu te amei&lt;br /&gt;                       A muito tempo&lt;br /&gt;                       E você tirou ainda tirou proveito&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                     Tento esquecer&lt;br /&gt;                     Fazer de conta que não aconteceu&lt;br /&gt;                     Porem quando as memorias vem&lt;br /&gt;                     Tudo volta&lt;br /&gt;                     E eu ainda não consegui te perdoar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                    Só deus  sabe o quanto eu rezo&lt;br /&gt;                    Cada ave-maria&lt;br /&gt;                    É um novo misterio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                        -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7268530452143713987?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7268530452143713987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7268530452143713987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7268530452143713987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7268530452143713987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/afbsl.html' title='A.F.B.S.L.'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7675402288432476657</id><published>2008-04-30T01:14:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T01:23:16.015-03:00</updated><title type='text'>In a  Depeche Mode mood</title><content type='html'>I saw him today&lt;br /&gt;Between the girls&lt;br /&gt;He´s the honey&lt;br /&gt;They´re the bees&lt;br /&gt;There´s no better place to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He left his Go-go boys behind&lt;br /&gt;Just for a while&lt;br /&gt;No blokes for now&lt;br /&gt;Give me knickers&lt;br /&gt;For tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don´t think he likes men&lt;br /&gt;Seriously speaking&lt;br /&gt;When we ask if he is gay&lt;br /&gt;He just looks the other way&lt;br /&gt;Maybe bissexual or something else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is still figuring out a name&lt;br /&gt;For his sexuality&lt;br /&gt;He doesn´t like it up there&lt;br /&gt;He just like to penetrate&lt;br /&gt;Into new sexual experiences everyday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7675402288432476657?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7675402288432476657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7675402288432476657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7675402288432476657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7675402288432476657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/in-depeche-mode-mood.html' title='In a  Depeche Mode mood'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2187956756546979014</id><published>2008-04-29T23:38:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T23:59:10.932-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiko na balada</title><content type='html'>Antes de falar mal de Jesus&lt;br /&gt;                   Aprenda a rezar um Pai-Nosso&lt;br /&gt;                   Antes de se descobrir mulher &lt;br /&gt;                   Aprenda a ser homen&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                 Por que colocar um cachecol&lt;br /&gt;                 Se o dia esta quente&lt;br /&gt;                 Por que esquecer de ser sociavel&lt;br /&gt;                 Para poder ser blaser&lt;br /&gt;                 Para que deixar crescer a franja&lt;br /&gt;                 Se por baixo só tem espinhas&lt;br /&gt;                 Por que usar óculos&lt;br /&gt;                 Se não tens miopia&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                 Você que quer ser arte&lt;br /&gt;                 Virou piada de si mesm0&lt;br /&gt;                 Eres graça&lt;br /&gt;                 Eres uma peça&lt;br /&gt;                 Eres escroto&lt;br /&gt;                 Eres uma mentira&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 Você já não se veste&lt;br /&gt;                 Pra se agradar&lt;br /&gt;                 Mais para os outros&lt;br /&gt;                 Rirem e Rolar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                Na sua frente você é amigo&lt;br /&gt;                Não se iluda&lt;br /&gt;                Por traz&lt;br /&gt;                Para os outros&lt;br /&gt;                Você é castigo&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                Você diz que não liga&lt;br /&gt;                Porem liga sim&lt;br /&gt;                Se veste como os outros&lt;br /&gt;                Óculos,franja,cachecol,enfim&lt;br /&gt;                Você é uma cópia&lt;br /&gt;                Que deita e espicha&lt;br /&gt;                Inventa richas sem fim&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;br /&gt;                       -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2187956756546979014?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2187956756546979014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2187956756546979014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2187956756546979014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2187956756546979014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/kiko-na-balada.html' title='Kiko na balada'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7111563966367418938</id><published>2008-04-28T18:15:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T18:53:50.838-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Marujada(Ideia para um musical em português)</title><content type='html'>Mr.Dean marinheiro inglês se apaixona por Mariasinha das meias arrastão quando o navio zarpava do porto do Recife Antigo.Mr.Dean acha que Mariasinha é uma prostituta,porem ela é só uma personagem da noite do Recife Antigo.Um ano depois Mr.Dean,faz um curso chulo de português brasileiro e volta para o Recife para ir atraz de Mariasinha das meias arrastão,que morre de nojo dele,para ela ele é  só uma Marujada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Dean: Eu fazer cursa para aprender a falar seu lingua&lt;br /&gt;                  Minha coração bater forte&lt;br /&gt;                  Ao ver você com seu meia de linha&lt;br /&gt;                  Ser marinheira&lt;br /&gt;                  Sou do marinha&lt;br /&gt;                  Eu te der casa&lt;br /&gt;                  Te der familia&lt;br /&gt;                  Se você vier com minha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mariazinha: Marujada!&lt;br /&gt;                       Recruta Zero!&lt;br /&gt;                      Não fui eu aquela&lt;br /&gt;                      Que você viu na janela&lt;br /&gt;                       Sou de familia&lt;br /&gt;                       Tenho valores&lt;br /&gt;                       Se você quer&lt;br /&gt;                       Uma prostituta&lt;br /&gt;                       Vá procurando&lt;br /&gt;                       Uma substituta!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Dean:" Mariazinha,eu não ser qualquer marrinheirra&lt;br /&gt;                  De trata curta,gesta grosseirra&lt;br /&gt;                  Eu ter propia navio e dela cuido"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mariazinha:" Então apedreja esta mão&lt;br /&gt;                      Que te afaga&lt;br /&gt;                      E escarra nesta boca&lt;br /&gt;                      Que te beija "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                Mariazinha beija a boca de Mr.Dean,não como uma forma de mostrar desejo e sim como uma forma de contestação e afronta.Depois do beijo Mariazinha corre e some no meio da noite do Recife Antigo e Mr.Dean Corre atraz dela.No meio do trajeto ele acaba derrubando Beta Bujão,poeta e melhor amiga de Mariazinha.&lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;br /&gt;Beta Bujão:Por que me derrubas?&lt;br /&gt;                    Se ao menos não sabes teu caminho?&lt;br /&gt;                    Você nem olha para os lados&lt;br /&gt;                    Para saber que eu existo&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                   Benvindo,você entrou no salão&lt;br /&gt;                   Meu nome é Beta Bujão&lt;br /&gt;                   Tenho fama de ladrona&lt;br /&gt;                   De copos de bar&lt;br /&gt;                    &lt;br /&gt;                  Eu tive um namorado&lt;br /&gt;                  Ele se chamava Vilmar&lt;br /&gt;                  Ele era um fujão &lt;br /&gt;                  Quando agente acabou&lt;br /&gt;                  Naquela mesa alí no bar&lt;br /&gt;                  Ele me chamou de Beta Bujão&lt;br /&gt;                  O apelido pegou&lt;br /&gt;                  E de Marilia Albertina&lt;br /&gt;                  Agora sou Beta Bujão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                 Eu tenho gas pra viver&lt;br /&gt;                 Eu tenho gas pra escrever&lt;br /&gt;                 Eu tenho gas para ser&lt;br /&gt;                 Emagreci trinta e cinco quilos&lt;br /&gt;                 Posso tudo fazer&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;Mr Dean: Se você poder tudo fazer,você mim ajudar a encontrar o Mariazinha do meia de linha?&lt;br /&gt;Beta Bujão:Esta pronto para conhecer os misterios do Recife Antigo,gringo?&lt;br /&gt;Mr Dean:Eu estar.&lt;br /&gt;Beta Bujão:Então,pega na minha mão e venha...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7111563966367418938?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7111563966367418938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7111563966367418938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7111563966367418938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7111563966367418938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/marujadaideia-para-um-musical-em.html' title='Marujada(Ideia para um musical em português)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1636198012232837811</id><published>2008-04-28T17:17:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T17:48:29.806-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Receita da minha desconstrução</title><content type='html'>Junte uns cds dos Beatles&lt;br /&gt;                Frite e passe na farofa&lt;br /&gt;                Simfonias do Blind Guardians&lt;br /&gt;                E sirva com tomates secos&lt;br /&gt;                Chorinhos de Belle and Sebastian&lt;br /&gt;                Misture com salada vinagrette&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;               Pegue uns rpgistas filhos da puta&lt;br /&gt;               Alguns extrangeiros &lt;br /&gt;               E estudantes de computação&lt;br /&gt;               Triture tudo&lt;br /&gt;               E coloque num caldeirão&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;br /&gt;               Taí&lt;br /&gt;               A receita da minha desconstrução&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              Noites mal dormidas e baladas&lt;br /&gt;              Marinadas&lt;br /&gt;              Com vinho tinto e redenção&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;br /&gt;            Tempere com tarde em livrarias&lt;br /&gt;            Poesias&lt;br /&gt;            Psicanálise&lt;br /&gt;            Dietas&lt;br /&gt;            Malhação&lt;br /&gt;            Pegue isso tudo e faça&lt;br /&gt;            Um suflê de superação&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;            Taí&lt;br /&gt;            A receita da minha desconstrução&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1636198012232837811?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1636198012232837811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1636198012232837811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1636198012232837811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1636198012232837811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/reci.html' title='Receita da minha desconstrução'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5657947908397811113</id><published>2008-04-28T17:10:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T17:10:52.330-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Poesia Medieval (2003)</title><content type='html'>Ele Chega No Meio Da Noite&lt;br /&gt;E Me Seduz Na Madrugada&lt;br /&gt;Eu Tento Tirar Sua Armadura&lt;br /&gt;Porem Ela Está Pregada Na Tua Pele&lt;br /&gt;Tento Ver As Formas Do Rosto&lt;br /&gt;Que Se Esconde Atraz Da Anorexia&lt;br /&gt;Os Pulsos Estão Decepados&lt;br /&gt;A Dor Cauterizou Nossa Lembrança&lt;br /&gt;Estás Enlatado Atraz Da Armadura&lt;br /&gt;Não Posso Ver Quem Tu És&lt;br /&gt;Tua Alma Não É Pura&lt;br /&gt;Veneno Nas Tuas Veias&lt;br /&gt;Meu Cavaleiro Medieval E Sua Armadura Me Deixam&lt;br /&gt;Sem Eu Desvendar O Misterio&lt;br /&gt;Atraz Da Lataria&lt;br /&gt;   _X_&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5657947908397811113?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/2332174' title='Poesia Medieval (2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5657947908397811113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5657947908397811113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5657947908397811113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5657947908397811113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/poesia-medieval-2003.html' title='Poesia Medieval (2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1127151518399531084</id><published>2008-04-28T16:58:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T17:06:40.712-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Lubienska(2003)</title><content type='html'>Este é o Instituto Helena Lubienska.Com certeza um dos melhores colegios do Recife.&lt;br /&gt;                Foi o lugar onde passei os melhores dois anos da minha vida.Com um nível de ensino altíssimo ,sem partir para a caretice,o colegio alem das matérias normais ensina para a vida.Não foi á toa  que foi eleita segundo melhor lugar para estudar entre os  ensinos médios no Recife.Superando instituições mais tradicionais.&lt;br /&gt;                 A pessoa que entra lá dificilmente sai de lá com a mesma visão que tinha antes.As amizades que fiz lá ,apesar de serem poucas ,são amizades que duram até hoje.Me formei lá em 2001 e tenho muita vontade de voltar lá,para rever o lugar que mudou minha vida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1127151518399531084?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/3628550' title='Lubienska(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1127151518399531084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1127151518399531084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1127151518399531084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1127151518399531084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/lubienska2003.html' title='Lubienska(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-6159574508775252117</id><published>2008-04-28T16:54:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:55:01.448-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tres Leches(2003)</title><content type='html'>Depois de comer um "Mole Poblano" nada melhor do que um "Tres Leches"(Três Leites) para adocicar a boca . Feito com leite de vaca,leite condensado ,creme de leite e um envelope de gelatina sem sabor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-6159574508775252117?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/4381830' title='Tres Leches(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/6159574508775252117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=6159574508775252117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6159574508775252117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/6159574508775252117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/tres-leches2003.html' title='Tres Leches(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3474060444895156795</id><published>2008-04-28T16:51:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:53:26.021-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mole Poblano(2003)</title><content type='html'>Mole Poblano !!! Prato mexicano descoberto nos conventos de Puebla.Feito com frango , chocolate e pimenta:&lt;br /&gt;                                          No dia anteriro torrar e tirar as sementes da pimenta.Deixar descansar com sal e água durante a noite.&lt;br /&gt;dia seguinte escorra a pimenta e coloque parar moer com gergelim , pão ,cebola e dois dentes de alho.&lt;br /&gt;Asar, tirar a pele e as sementes dos tomates e moer-los com pimenta preta. Limpar, flambar e lavar perfeitamente o frango cortado e botar para cozinha o pescoço e o míúdo na agua com cebola, pimentão, 1 dente de alho, até obter um bom caldo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fritar as peças do frango com manteiga, em uma caçarola grande. Quando estejam bem fritos, coloque o tomate moido com o gergelim. Quando começar a secar, coloque o caldo, e quando a secar outra vez, coloque a pimenta moida com o resto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixar refritar um tempo, e colocar o caldo e o sal. Deixar ferver até que o frango esteja bem suave, se precisar, colocar agua ou caldo. Colocar o açúcar e o chocolate, deixando ferver por mais um tempo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decorar com uva passa e amendoas. Sirva quente, com um prato de gergelim torrado para colocar encima do frango.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3474060444895156795?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/4325387' title='Mole Poblano(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3474060444895156795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3474060444895156795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3474060444895156795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3474060444895156795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/mole-poblano2003.html' title='Mole Poblano(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-788139112383736221</id><published>2008-04-28T16:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:51:00.647-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mojito(2003)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Uma das minhas bebidas favoritas com vcs o :"Mojito".Bebida de Cuba,a ilha de Fidel Castro.Prepare-se para uma verdadeira revolução de sabores.Sabor que remete uma fria floresta europeia e não a terra da rumba.&lt;br /&gt;INGREDIENTES:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suco de limão.&lt;br /&gt;Açúcar.&lt;br /&gt;Rum branco.&lt;br /&gt;Agua de soda.&lt;br /&gt;Folhas de herva doce ou hortelã&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Diluir o açúcar e o limão  com a soda e triturar a folha de hortelã ou herva doce antes de colocar o gelo e o rum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Servir num copo grande&lt;/p&gt; &lt;!-- google_ad_section_end --&gt;&lt;!-- google_ad_section_start(weight=ignore) --&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=1209412192705&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=&amp;amp;cookie=ID%3D972e063c629ac18d%3AT%3D1209411041%3AS%3DALNI_MbSezIxZMBEOuCBE5Jv_awxy8q69A&amp;amp;ga_vid=2038581745.1209411045&amp;amp;ga_sid=1209411045&amp;amp;ga_hid=798809541&amp;amp;ga_fc=true&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.fotolog.com%2Fhorda666%2F4433909&amp;amp;ref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.fotolog.com%2Fhorda666%2F4602426&amp;amp;lmt=1209412192&amp;amp;dt=1209412193993&amp;amp;cc=100&amp;amp;color_border=000000&amp;amp;color_bg=000000&amp;amp;color_link=999999&amp;amp;color_url=999999&amp;amp;color_text=CC0000&amp;amp;hl=pt&amp;amp;u_h=768&amp;amp;u_w=1024&amp;amp;u_ah=738&amp;amp;u_aw=1024&amp;amp;u_cd=32&amp;amp;u_tz=-180&amp;amp;u_his=11&amp;amp;u_java=true&amp;amp;u_nplug=20&amp;amp;u_nmime=102"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-788139112383736221?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/4433909' title='Mojito(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/788139112383736221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=788139112383736221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/788139112383736221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/788139112383736221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/mojito2003.html' title='Mojito(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-3726729070513182283</id><published>2008-04-28T16:42:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:49:44.113-03:00</updated><title type='text'>La Cuineta(2003)Clique aqui para imagem do restaurante</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- google_ad_section_end --&gt; &lt;!-- google_ad_section_start --&gt;     &lt;p&gt;                                       Agora vamos começar a seção melhores bares e restaurantes do mundo.Começamos com "La Cuineta" ,em Barcelona.Cituado no belíssimo Bairro Gótico,o Recife Antigo Catalão,onde se citua a cena alternativa barceloneta."Cuineta" quer dizer pequena cozinha em catalão antigo.No seu cardápio podemos encontrar :Pato Ao molho de pêra,Salada de maçã e kiwi e Costelas de carneiro.Todos os pratos são acompanhados do vinho da casa,água,pão de excelente qualidade e café.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-3726729070513182283?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/4602426' title='La Cuineta(2003)Clique aqui para imagem do restaurante'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/3726729070513182283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=3726729070513182283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3726729070513182283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/3726729070513182283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/la-cuineta2003clique-aqui-para-imagem.html' title='La Cuineta(2003)Clique aqui para imagem do restaurante'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-8580863592079874859</id><published>2008-04-28T16:40:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:42:00.705-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre paixão(2003)</title><content type='html'>Aposto que cada um de nós já fomos apaixonados algum dia muitas correspondidas ,outras não.Essas não correspondidas não as que mais marcam como uma ferida.Tb servem como uma chave pra encontrar outra correspondida.Me lembrei hoje das pessoas que eu me apaixonei platônicamente e não fui correspondida.&lt;br /&gt;                            Das noites em que chorei, das festas q eu passava esperando ,quando eu passava fome ou quando eu me esbaldava nos doces para me esquecer.É como viver numa bolha onde vc só vê vc e seu objetivo.O coração abre e sangra.&lt;br /&gt;                         Tambem ví como o tempo passa e cura tudo.Grande parte dessas pessoas ,hoje são bons amigos meus, nos quais eu posso ligar e pedir ajuda ,nem que seja para consertar meu computador.&lt;br /&gt;                       E ví tambem q eram pessoas que não valiam a pena ter um relacionamento mais íntimo.Foram pessoas importantes na minha vida.E fizeram de min quem sou agora.Me deram mais força para enfrentar a vida e seus acasos.Tambem tiveram pessoas que gostavam de min e eu nem notei ou fui grossa com eles.O tempo cura e agente supera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8580863592079874859?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/5276879' title='Sobre paixão(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8580863592079874859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8580863592079874859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8580863592079874859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8580863592079874859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/sobre-paixo2003.html' title='Sobre paixão(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4822354490912452934</id><published>2008-04-28T16:38:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:38:49.696-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sophia(2003)</title><content type='html'>Sinto falta de ter alguém do meu lado.&lt;br /&gt;Que me olhasse e sorrisse&lt;br /&gt;E assim me faça sorrir também&lt;br /&gt;Que me fizesse sentir única&lt;br /&gt;Que me amasse mesmos em meus momentos mais frios&lt;br /&gt;Que não visse meu corpo como um objeto&lt;br /&gt;Que me visse como eu sou&lt;br /&gt;E não uma versão falsa minha&lt;br /&gt;Que eu pudesse ficar nua ao lado&lt;br /&gt;E mesmo assim não sentir vergonha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophia= Sabedoria em grego&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4822354490912452934?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/6032298' title='Sophia(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4822354490912452934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4822354490912452934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4822354490912452934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4822354490912452934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/sophia2003.html' title='Sophia(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7637424397763160202</id><published>2008-04-28T16:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:37:00.511-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ranchera(2003)</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- google_ad_section_end --&gt; &lt;!-- google_ad_section_start --&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Abrace aqueles cds de pagode q vc esconde.Diga graças a deus por tocar "Baba Baby" no rádio.Sorria quando você vêr um anúncio de um show de forró ou brega.Com vocês um estilo musical que faz qualquer Chitãozinho e Chororó parecerem intelectuais.Com vocês ,a "Rancheira" ou "Norteña" ou "Texmex".Pense no pior de todos os estilos misturados.Dor de corno ,mulheres seminuas dançando,muito oooooooooooooouuuuuroooooooooo ,letras pornográficas,roupas EXAGERADAS e muuuuuuuuuuiiiiiiiiiitaaaaaaa dor de cotovelo.&lt;br /&gt;Sucesso nas rádio mexicanas e nas colonias latinas nos estados unidos.É a música preferida dos traficantes de drogas,empregadas domésticas e patricinhas,"fresitas"*,em bom mexicanês.&lt;br /&gt;Aí vocês podem ver o maior expoente da música ranchera no  México e no mundo ,"Los Tigres".Saca o naipe dos caras!!!  (foto no link no título)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*fresitas = moranguinhos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7637424397763160202?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/6208410' title='Ranchera(2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7637424397763160202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7637424397763160202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7637424397763160202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7637424397763160202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/ranchera2003.html' title='Ranchera(2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5515098313835252483</id><published>2008-04-28T16:32:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:34:10.146-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Escorpião (texto de 2003)</title><content type='html'>Um dos signos que mas marcou a minha vida foi escorpião.Desde pequena eu fui fascinada por escorpiões tinha medo e fascinação ao mesmo tempo.Uma vez, aos cinco anos,acordei chorando porque achava que embaixo da minha cama esta cheio de escorpiões.Sonho que anos depois ,de alguma forma ,se concretizaria.&lt;br /&gt;Escorpianos podem ser seus melhores amigos ou seus piores inimigos.Tentam te agradar de todas as formas,mesmos nos mais sombrios.De aparência tímida e recolhida eles preferem se mostrar somente á aqueles que se sentem mais próximos.Normalmente são pessoas que gostam de viver em seus própios mundos .Maioria dos escorpianos que eu conheço gostam de três coisas Metal ,RPG e Leitura.&lt;br /&gt;No campo amoroso são pessoas que demoram a se iniciar.Gostam de se guardar para alguém que realmente valha a pena,qualidade muito rara entre os homens... Porem, quando se entregam se entregam de corpo e alma.Junto da pessoa amada se mostram verdadeiros casanovas.Tenho uma amigo escorpiano que é tão romântico que escreve poesias para o amor que ainda vai conhecer!&lt;br /&gt;Tanto para virar a madrugada jogando RPG, como pra bater cabeça com um som pesado,como pra chorar no ombro ,escorpião é um signo fascinante.&lt;br /&gt;                                      -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5515098313835252483?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666/6404241' title='Escorpião (texto de 2003)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5515098313835252483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5515098313835252483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5515098313835252483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5515098313835252483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/escorpio-texto-de-2003.html' title='Escorpião (texto de 2003)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5532095630605978041</id><published>2008-04-28T16:30:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:32:12.292-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Carnaval (poesia escrita em 2004)</title><content type='html'>Quero minha cidade de prata e rum&lt;br /&gt; Ver colombinas e arlequins como em Veneza&lt;br /&gt; Quero beijar lábios de quem não conheço&lt;br /&gt;  Me vestir como eu quero&lt;br /&gt;  Sem importar o que vão dizer&lt;br /&gt;  Saberia que esse sonho finito&lt;br /&gt;  Duraria só 4 dias&lt;br /&gt;  Baixo o sol escaldante &lt;br /&gt;  Ou a noite misteriosa&lt;br /&gt;   É essa a Recife  que eu conheço&lt;br /&gt;   Como ela deveria ser &lt;br /&gt;   Em suas ruas antigas&lt;br /&gt;   E fantasias colorias&lt;br /&gt;   Da sexta até a terça-feira&lt;br /&gt;   Cores e luzes do meu Recife&lt;br /&gt;   A cidade dos meus olhos   &lt;br /&gt;    Me visto como eu quero&lt;br /&gt;   Beijo minha alma&lt;br /&gt;   Sou quem eu quero ser.&lt;br /&gt;-x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5532095630605978041?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fotolog.com/horda666' title='Carnaval (poesia escrita em 2004)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5532095630605978041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5532095630605978041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5532095630605978041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5532095630605978041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/carnaval-poesia-escrita-em-2004.html' title='Carnaval (poesia escrita em 2004)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-1566048689564863334</id><published>2008-04-28T16:17:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T16:27:20.144-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gummy bears'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='garfield'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='90s'/><title type='text'>Face of Lorenzo Music</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SBYjGfhG0mI/AAAAAAAAABg/TD7_8Q4FbOA/s1600-h/face+of+lorenzo+music.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SBYjGfhG0mI/AAAAAAAAABg/TD7_8Q4FbOA/s320/face+of+lorenzo+music.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194377814664991330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                    This was the face that made my saturday mornings.When saturday mornings still existed.&lt;br /&gt;                                    As a child during the 90´s I couldn´t miss an episode of "Garfield and Friends".I used to wake up 8:30am sharp just to see it.And there it was,that anonymous and faceless voice  who gave me hours and hours of endless laughters,specially when Garfield sent Nermal to Abu Dhabi,she would allways return.&lt;br /&gt;                                    Like most things I used to be proud of the face I have never seen and the name I´ve never knew died in 2001,year that burried the 90´s and it´s freedom forever.&lt;br /&gt;                                    This was his face,his name was Lorenzo Music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-1566048689564863334?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/1566048689564863334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=1566048689564863334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1566048689564863334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/1566048689564863334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/face-of-lorenzo-music.html' title='Face of Lorenzo Music'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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://bp3.blogger.com/_d6S3SoB2c4w/SBYjGfhG0mI/AAAAAAAAABg/TD7_8Q4FbOA/s72-c/face+of+lorenzo+music.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19809061.post-8596684689738983058</id><published>2008-04-24T22:42:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T22:43:24.771-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sixteen(Mein Kapo)</title><content type='html'>1999&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            Everyday the same exercises&lt;br /&gt;                            In a frosty day the same routine&lt;br /&gt;                            I was the untouchable&lt;br /&gt;                            Beaten up,blowned and stonned&lt;br /&gt;                            Even at home&lt;br /&gt;                            I was a victim of his hassment&lt;br /&gt;                            And as the pain grown&lt;br /&gt;                            I was never left alone&lt;br /&gt;                             &lt;br /&gt;                            Nobody knew&lt;br /&gt;                            I couldn´t look up for anyone&lt;br /&gt;                            Everything happened&lt;br /&gt;                            As if nothing had happened&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;br /&gt;                           Why can´t I look at you,&lt;br /&gt;                           Mein Kapo?&lt;br /&gt;                           In this room&lt;br /&gt;                           Where I´m not a person anymore&lt;br /&gt;                           Just a mouse&lt;br /&gt;                           &lt;br /&gt;                           Mathematics&lt;br /&gt;                           Biology&lt;br /&gt;                           Phisics&lt;br /&gt;                           Chemestry&lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;br /&gt;                           Fake apologies&lt;br /&gt;                           Fake ilusions&lt;br /&gt;                           I just stopped beleaving&lt;br /&gt;                            &lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;br /&gt;                             2008&lt;br /&gt;                         I see Mein Kapo again&lt;br /&gt;                         He is the night porter&lt;br /&gt;                         At a hotel&lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;br /&gt;                        He doesn´t recognize me&lt;br /&gt;                        I attract him to my room&lt;br /&gt;                        And before he walked out&lt;br /&gt;                        Into the blue&lt;br /&gt;                        Do you remember what you did to me&lt;br /&gt;                        That first year of High School,&lt;br /&gt;                        Mein Kapo?&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                     Tears,tears,tears&lt;br /&gt;                     Those bloddy fake tears&lt;br /&gt;                     On those scorpio eyes&lt;br /&gt;                     In the truths he said&lt;br /&gt;                     I could only see&lt;br /&gt;                     The lies of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;                     It didn´t matter anymore&lt;br /&gt;                      &lt;br /&gt;                    So as if he was a wild beast&lt;br /&gt;                    I let him go&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;                     [youtube]DzMZKZ_cGsk[/youtube]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-8596684689738983058?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/8596684689738983058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=8596684689738983058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8596684689738983058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/8596684689738983058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/sixteenmein-kapo.html' title='Sixteen(Mein Kapo)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-5254206403188483482</id><published>2008-04-22T22:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T22:01:17.729-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Notebook</title><content type='html'>I still have with me&lt;br /&gt;                         That old yellow rusted notebook from school&lt;br /&gt;                         Full of poems about you&lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;br /&gt;                        The notebook that used to cover my face&lt;br /&gt;                        Everytime I wanted to look at you&lt;br /&gt;                        I felt so shy&lt;br /&gt;                        So I looked at a picture on the wall instead&lt;br /&gt;                      &lt;br /&gt;                       I felt so angry at you&lt;br /&gt;                       You never even noticed me&lt;br /&gt;                       My voice would stutter&lt;br /&gt;                       My face would blush&lt;br /&gt;                       Even by the thought&lt;br /&gt;                       Of taking to you&lt;br /&gt;                    &lt;br /&gt;                      My nails where eager&lt;br /&gt;                      To touch your skin&lt;br /&gt;                      A dream of a young girl&lt;br /&gt;                      Who was only seventeen&lt;br /&gt;                      You where my greatest dream&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                      Today everything is so different&lt;br /&gt;                      I talk to you without stuttering&lt;br /&gt;                      And look into your eyes without blushing&lt;br /&gt;                      I lye down my head on your legs&lt;br /&gt;                      I grab my old yellow rusted notebook&lt;br /&gt;                      And read to you all those old poems&lt;br /&gt;                      I´ve once written about you&lt;br /&gt;                      Afterwards you blush&lt;br /&gt;                      You hold my hand&lt;br /&gt;                      Stutter my name&lt;br /&gt;                      And kiss me on the cheek&lt;br /&gt;                               -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-5254206403188483482?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/5254206403188483482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=5254206403188483482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5254206403188483482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/5254206403188483482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/notebook.html' title='Notebook'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2920863152017630914</id><published>2008-04-22T13:36:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T14:12:38.417-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mundinho</title><content type='html'>Foi pra lá&lt;br /&gt;                                   Pra longe&lt;br /&gt;                                   Viajou&lt;br /&gt;                                   Pra Londres&lt;br /&gt;                                     &lt;br /&gt;                                  Você perdeu um mundinho&lt;br /&gt;                                  De carinho sem ter fim&lt;br /&gt;                                  Com aquela que estava ao seu ladinho&lt;br /&gt;                             &lt;br /&gt;                                 Se você está só&lt;br /&gt;                                 Paciência&lt;br /&gt;                                 Ela te fez sofrer&lt;br /&gt;                                 Penitencia&lt;br /&gt;                                   &lt;br /&gt;                                 A muito tempo atraz&lt;br /&gt;                                 Você quebrou este coraçãozinho&lt;br /&gt;                                 Ainda virgenzinho&lt;br /&gt;                                 E meus olhinhos piscando&lt;br /&gt;                                 Tão molhadinhos&lt;br /&gt;                                 Queriam ser penetradinhos&lt;br /&gt;                                 Pelos seus&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2920863152017630914?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2920863152017630914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2920863152017630914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2920863152017630914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2920863152017630914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/mundinho.html' title='Mundinho'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-4972782161064006099</id><published>2008-04-20T03:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T03:13:39.973-03:00</updated><title type='text'>From a freak to influency</title><content type='html'>They don´t understand&lt;br /&gt;                                     My red cardigan&lt;br /&gt;                                     They don´t understand&lt;br /&gt;                                     My stripped shirt&lt;br /&gt;                                     They don´t understand&lt;br /&gt;                                     Why I wear mary-jane slippers&lt;br /&gt;                                     They don´t understand&lt;br /&gt;                                     Why my sunglasses are so big&lt;br /&gt;                                      They don´t undertsand&lt;br /&gt;                                      Why my boyfriend lives so far away&lt;br /&gt;                                      Or why do sometimes I write&lt;br /&gt;                                      Poems in english&lt;br /&gt;                                      And sometimes I write&lt;br /&gt;                                      In portuguese&lt;br /&gt;                                    &lt;br /&gt;                                     I was allways the first&lt;br /&gt;                                     To spread out tendencies&lt;br /&gt;                                     In a matter of months&lt;br /&gt;                                     I come from a freak&lt;br /&gt;                                     To an influency&lt;br /&gt;                                     It all began in 1998&lt;br /&gt;                                     With platforms&lt;br /&gt;                                     In 1999&lt;br /&gt;                                     Twas oversize pants&lt;br /&gt;                                     In 2000&lt;br /&gt;                                     Twas ADIDAS trainners&lt;br /&gt;                                      In 2001&lt;br /&gt;                                     With ankhs and pentagrams&lt;br /&gt;                                      In 2004&lt;br /&gt;                                      With long skirts&lt;br /&gt;                                      In 2005&lt;br /&gt;                                      With skinny jeans&lt;br /&gt;                                      And now ?&lt;br /&gt;                                     What will it be?&lt;br /&gt;                                     In time I´ll wait and see&lt;br /&gt;                                         -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-4972782161064006099?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/4972782161064006099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=4972782161064006099' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4972782161064006099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/4972782161064006099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-freak-to-influency.html' title='From a freak to influency'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7575209861493386730</id><published>2008-04-19T18:36:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T18:56:33.863-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Verão de 98</title><content type='html'>Venha amiga chega perto da janela&lt;br /&gt;                                               Que eles vem chegando&lt;br /&gt;                                               De mansinho&lt;br /&gt;                                               São os noroegueisinhos&lt;br /&gt;                                               Que nós gostamos tanto&lt;br /&gt;                                             &lt;br /&gt;                                             Trouxe o biquini&lt;br /&gt;                                             E meu vestidinho marrom&lt;br /&gt;                                             De manhã tem piscina&lt;br /&gt;                                             De noite tem pagode&lt;br /&gt;                                             Vai ser muito bom&lt;br /&gt;                                              &lt;br /&gt;                                             Você pegou na perna dele&lt;br /&gt;                                             Fui ao banheiro chorar&lt;br /&gt;                                             E ele foi pro banheiro tambem&lt;br /&gt;                                             E pediu pra perna dele pegar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            No quarto do seu irmão&lt;br /&gt;                                            Á noite tem Oasis,Blur e João Gordo&lt;br /&gt;                                            Cerveja,chocolate e Fifa98&lt;br /&gt;                                            Jogamos videogame até amanhecer&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                           De tardezinha no sofá azul da sua sala&lt;br /&gt;                                           Dudu,Cenorão e Mumuzinho&lt;br /&gt;                                           Som,violão e sua voz&lt;br /&gt;                                           Cantando bem devagarzinho&lt;br /&gt;                                           Beijos,abraços e muito carinho&lt;br /&gt;                                           Até de madrugada&lt;br /&gt;                                                    -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7575209861493386730?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7575209861493386730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7575209861493386730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7575209861493386730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7575209861493386730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/vero-de-98.html' title='Verão de 98'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-7993910889262617069</id><published>2008-04-18T23:18:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T23:28:26.105-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Brands from Britain</title><content type='html'>Darling sweetest sweetheart&lt;br /&gt;                             Next time you come over here&lt;br /&gt;                             Please,mind to bring with you&lt;br /&gt;                             Yellow lable Earl Grey´s Twinnings tea&lt;br /&gt;                             Chocolate mint Aero Bars&lt;br /&gt;                             Durex tingleling sensations&lt;br /&gt;                             The latest NME issue&lt;br /&gt;                             Those butter coockies my dad likes&lt;br /&gt;                             That original scottish single malt whiskey&lt;br /&gt;                            &lt;br /&gt;                             Don´t forget any of these items&lt;br /&gt;                             Because surely&lt;br /&gt;                             I want to use each of them with you&lt;br /&gt;                                &lt;br /&gt;                                             -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-7993910889262617069?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/7993910889262617069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=7993910889262617069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7993910889262617069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/7993910889262617069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/brands-from-britain.html' title='Brands from Britain'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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-19809061.post-2443044491063116031</id><published>2008-04-17T15:29:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T15:36:20.804-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A fúria atraz de olhos verdes (poesia escrita em 2001)</title><content type='html'>Um matagal de luxúria &lt;br /&gt;                      Verde pelos espelhos da alma&lt;br /&gt;                      A cor que me atiça&lt;br /&gt;                      A cor que me acalma &lt;br /&gt;                      Olhos verdes atraz das armações&lt;br /&gt;                      O calor atraz de cabelos longos&lt;br /&gt;                      Como o som do Theremin&lt;br /&gt;                      Como um íncubus carnal&lt;br /&gt;                      Como ser empurrada debaixo da terra&lt;br /&gt;                      O ar me afoga&lt;br /&gt;                      Como a balança da justiça&lt;br /&gt;                      Que balança as estruturas&lt;br /&gt;                      Como um escorpião libidinoso&lt;br /&gt;                      Lambendo minha alma&lt;br /&gt;                      Sugando meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;                      Relacionamentos mentais e físicos&lt;br /&gt;                      Suspiros ao pé de ouvido&lt;br /&gt;                      Lábio molhados&lt;br /&gt;                      Linguas envenenadas&lt;br /&gt;                      Como uma viagem ao outro&lt;br /&gt;                      Como o calor sangüíneo&lt;br /&gt;                      Vejo a fúria&lt;br /&gt;                      A fúria atraz de olhos verdes&lt;br /&gt;                                 -x-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19809061-2443044491063116031?l=tweepixie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/feeds/2443044491063116031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19809061&amp;postID=2443044491063116031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2443044491063116031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19809061/posts/default/2443044491063116031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tweepixie.blogspot.com/2008/04/fria-atraz-de-olhos-verdes-poesia.html' title='A fúria atraz de olhos verdes (poesia escrita em 2001)'/><author><name>twee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05296170971070699563</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>
