<?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-7521861085871658303</id><updated>2011-11-15T16:21:51.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>conversa com meus botoes</title><subtitle type='html'>A idéia original era que esse fose um espaço dedicado à poesias...poesia?!?Ah,isso é coisa de poeta!Eu sou só um vagabundo tagarela...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-5318078041281079537</id><published>2011-11-15T15:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T16:21:51.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Filosofias de um vagabundo antes do café da manhã</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aapQVWWxJuk/S-BD_SS158I/AAAAAAAAAL4/4D_1H1sN_Eo/s1600/chaplin-vagabundo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aapQVWWxJuk/S-BD_SS158I/AAAAAAAAAL4/4D_1H1sN_Eo/s320/chaplin-vagabundo.jpg" width="222" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Acordar pela manha não é exatamente oque pretendia...Já fazia tempo que nao acordava antes das oito!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Bem mas as coisas mudam,já dizia mamãe...Quem sou eu para discordar?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Na verdade, eu só queria um fim de semana com três dias e uma praia sempre ensolarada todo.Estar sempre com minha menina&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;(sonho da minha vida)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Estaria em um estado permanente de felicidade&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Na verdade, queria mesmo quase nada.Talvez ,apenas o suficiente para que tivesse paz e me sentisse feliz.As vezes precisamos de tão pouco pra sermos felizes né?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Talvez o  bastante para que dissesse ,sem mentir&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Estou completo,nada mais quero"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Há quem diga que eu queria muito,que queria demais.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;==&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="color: red;"&gt;Sempre temos falsa idéia de que viver com mais do se precisa pra viver é viver bem, vale a pena tanto suor derramado , a perca da paz ( e da sanidade) por tão pouco? &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(por que ainda ando no meio desses loucos?por que ainda me comporto como eles?)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-5318078041281079537?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5318078041281079537/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2011/11/filosofias-de-um-vagabundo-antes-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5318078041281079537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5318078041281079537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2011/11/filosofias-de-um-vagabundo-antes-do.html' title='Filosofias de um vagabundo antes do café da manhã'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aapQVWWxJuk/S-BD_SS158I/AAAAAAAAAL4/4D_1H1sN_Eo/s72-c/chaplin-vagabundo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-5820583597638562165</id><published>2011-05-21T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T15:18:05.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SjAi-t_k37I/AAAAAAAAAIw/D0ukjqPH8Xs/s1600-h/41025_28_1229906201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345811218582265778" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SjAi-t_k37I/AAAAAAAAAIw/D0ukjqPH8Xs/s400/41025_28_1229906201.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;(Eu) estava só&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mas só pensando bem&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Não é da solidão que reclamo,meu bem&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;(pois isso já sentia ao teu lado)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Reclamo então do frio&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;que é não ter corpo algum pra esquentar o meu&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pois a solidão não é nada sem o frio&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;mas o frio que exala de um corpo ,meu bem...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ah, esse é bem pior que qualquer solidão!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Por que as vezes é menos frio quando estamos sós?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: red; color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: red;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-5820583597638562165?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5820583597638562165/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2011/05/frioterminado-proxima-postagem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5820583597638562165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5820583597638562165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2011/05/frioterminado-proxima-postagem.html' title='Frio'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SjAi-t_k37I/AAAAAAAAAIw/D0ukjqPH8Xs/s72-c/41025_28_1229906201.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-1614345119763043022</id><published>2010-03-03T15:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T15:32:25.019-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedicatória</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/S474ifmi7FI/AAAAAAAAAJY/cXDy_4GIAsA/s1600-h/solid%25C3%25A3o3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444562271019920466" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/S474ifmi7FI/AAAAAAAAAJY/cXDy_4GIAsA/s400/solid%25C3%25A3o3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 289px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dedico ao vazio todo poema que ,por ventura,venha eu a escrever &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Não se engane se tu os ler&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Não vá pensar que são teus! &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dedico ,de agora em dante,à ausência &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cada verso meu Branco ou rimado &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;E à tristeza,minha querida, Cada gole,cada cigarro fumado &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;E toda noite mal dormida &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dedicarei às noites frias o calor &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;O calor que se desprende de meu corpo&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;E se perde no cobertor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Por fim,quando vier a morte me buscar,minha querida&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Que surpresa ela terá &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Já não há oque levar,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;pois à ti dediquei a vida&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt; &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;por que as vezes damos tanto a quem não merece nada e oferecemos tão pouco as pessoas realmente importantes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-1614345119763043022?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/1614345119763043022/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2010/03/dedico-ao-vazio-todo-poema-que-por.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/1614345119763043022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/1614345119763043022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2010/03/dedico-ao-vazio-todo-poema-que-por.html' title='Dedicatória'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/S474ifmi7FI/AAAAAAAAAJY/cXDy_4GIAsA/s72-c/solid%25C3%25A3o3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-2071690280504157964</id><published>2009-09-17T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T14:31:02.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uma prece</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sw8HWvniEdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Y-Z0sW6DHyg/s1600/prece1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px; display: block; height: 217px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408549764816048594" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sw8HWvniEdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Y-Z0sW6DHyg/s400/prece1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quero muito não&lt;br /&gt;Então, meu Deus,&lt;br /&gt;Atende eu!&lt;br /&gt;Quero um pouquinho de paz&lt;br /&gt;(pero no mucho)&lt;br /&gt;Quero minha menina do lado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Um abraço apertado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quero um fim o semana esticado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Três dias já seria bom&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meu Deus , obrigado!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Será que to pedindo muito?rs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-2071690280504157964?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2071690280504157964/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/09/quero-muito-nao-entao-meu-deus-atende.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/2071690280504157964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/2071690280504157964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/09/quero-muito-nao-entao-meu-deus-atende.html' title='Uma prece'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sw8HWvniEdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Y-Z0sW6DHyg/s72-c/prece1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-1146838129794066730</id><published>2009-07-16T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T15:45:57.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vinho</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sl9qsqjGlNI/AAAAAAAAAJI/QxB3EBirbgA/s1600-h/VINHO%2B-%2BVERTIDO%2BNA%2BTA%25C3%2587A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359119397162489042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sl9qsqjGlNI/AAAAAAAAAJI/QxB3EBirbgA/s400/VINHO%2B-%2BVERTIDO%2BNA%2BTA%25C3%2587A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ah,Dona Cecília&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desse teu vinho eu também provei&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bebi até que me tirasse a razão&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me embriaguei&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bebi até que me levasse ao chão&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me perdi então,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Como tu também fizeste&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E,como dos outros tantos &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que provei&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desse também só sobrou a ressaca&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;A "Dona Cecília" a que me refiro é Cecília Meireles,e o vinho é um de seus poemas,muito belo por sinal,que adoro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-1146838129794066730?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/1146838129794066730/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/07/vinho.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/1146838129794066730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/1146838129794066730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/07/vinho.html' title='Vinho'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sl9qsqjGlNI/AAAAAAAAAJI/QxB3EBirbgA/s72-c/VINHO%2B-%2BVERTIDO%2BNA%2BTA%25C3%2587A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-8456821190787663640</id><published>2009-06-26T07:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T13:19:37.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ó furada!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SkTnfLAjKfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/xyYAHBduogo/s1600-h/8809_sjo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351656779940047346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SkTnfLAjKfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/xyYAHBduogo/s400/8809_sjo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não é a intenção desse blog contar história ou acontecimentos de minha vida do jeito que conto essa,mas vou a brir uma excessão por que essa merece&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deixa eu te contar um acontecimento recente.Semana passada eu fiquei sabendo de uma comemoração das festas juninas que aconteceria em Maracanaú,região metropolitana de Fortaleza.Normalmente nessas festas sempre há comidas típicas e muito forró,e eu não gosto muito de nenhum dos dois,não em demasia como nas festas juninas.Mas fiquei sabendo ,que além de várias bandas de forró com nomes no mínimo exóticos,Elba Ramalho iria estar presente e cantaria.Sabe,não sou profundo conhecedor de seu trabalho,mas o pouco que conheço me fez querer ir.Ainda existia dúvida em mim,mas logo que minha mãe disse:Bruno eu vou à Maracanaú e suas irmãs(irmãs?elas são filhas do meu padrasto...E não dá pra chamar a do meio de irmã,ela muito lindinha e falo dela depois) também vão ao "arraiá".&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nossa que feliz coincidência,fazia tempo que eu não saia pra lugar nenhum.Eu vou sim, respondi logo de cara.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E é chegado o dia,toda aquela correria típica de uma família de desorganizados como a minha.Era aquela coisa..."Menino,pega a mochila!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Espera,p...,vou pegar mais uma blusa!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bem,nessa bagunça toda acabamos chegando bem tarde mas à tempo pra descançar antes de ir a festa.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Descançamos.Descançamos?Que nada!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fiquei colado na "maninha". Já tinha ficado com ela uma vez e não queria perder a chance de ficar denovo. Conversamos,comemos,assitimos à tevê,e fizemos tudo que se podia fazer pra que o tempo passasse rápido...E passou,mas estava chovendo!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Ninguém sai na chuva",minha mãe falou .&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ela é uma pessoa decidida e não muda de idéia facilmente,sabe?Tá, é mentira...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meia hora depois...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Essa chuva não vai passar..."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E é "nois" andando na chuva...ÊÊÊÊÊêêê!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meu Deus,e como andamos!Nos disseram que era perto...Perto fica o ca...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se não bastasse andar feito um camelo quando chegamos a entrada,que era uma trilhade terra,tudo estava enlameado.Tinha lama até o tornozelo sem exagero algum!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alguns carros atolaram e,na tentativa de sair,jogavam lama à todo lado.Alguns ficaram por lá mesmo.Eu consegui escapar de umas duas quedas,sorte que pessoas atrás de mim não tiveram.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enfim chegamos.Estava tudo lotado,pelo menos eu achava que não caberia mais ninguém...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Já eram quase meia noite e desde as dez não parava de chegar gente,nem de chover&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A essa altura eu já tinha me arrependido de ter saido de casa,mas valeria à pena!Ainda tinha o show da Elba!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A chuva engrossou.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Vou falar com a maninha..."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Ih,cadê ela?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Porra,sozinho ,com frio e perdido da maninha.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cheguei à conclusão que aquilo foi um toco...¬¬'&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E a tal banda de forró termina seu showzinho...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ufa!pensei com alívio.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Passaram quase uns dez minutos anunciando a próxima atração:Bruno&amp;amp;Marrone.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tenho que confessar que depois de ser obrigado a ouvir e até a assitir o DVD deles pela minha mãe,eu acabei desenvolvendo uma certa admiração pela banda.Eles até cantam bem,era oque eu pensava.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Depois de um show à parte do guitarrista que abriu o show com uns solos que de country ou sertanejo não tinham nada,eles enfim começam a cantar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DECEPÇÃO TOTAL!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O vocalista,sei lá qual dos dois,tem uma voz irritantemente anasalada!Quase insuportável!!!Parece que nos DVD´s eles ajeitam tudo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas a essa hora da noite eu já nem ligava mais pra isso,já estava à beira de uma hipotermia!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tremia de frio como nunca havia tremido.Minha coxa,pobrezinha,sentia frequentes pontadas(que saudade da trema...).Minha mãe queria um lugar próximo ao palco,tinhamos que encontrar a maninha e a amiga dela...andamos aquilo tudo e só assim eu pude ter uma idéia da dimensão de tudo.Tranquilamente haviam mais de duzentas mil pessoas!Estava lotado!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quase fui pisoteado na tentativa de levar minha irmã menor à um lugar longe da multidão,que loucura!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encontrei um lugar mais tranquilo,próximo a um guarda.Tinha uma branquinha , de uns 160cms...Lindinha,tava tremendo feito vara verde,coitada.Pensei em ir até ela,mas minha confiança já estava demasiadamente abalada...e tinha minha irmã menor comigo,não poderia deixa-la sozinha.eu também não conseguia mais falar de tanto que meu queixo batia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Antes do fim do show meus sapatos estavam completamente enlameados,minha roupa enxarcada e eu quase tendo cãimbras de frio.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encontramos minha maninha e ficou decidido que voltaríamos pra casa.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E a Elba?!?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;já era,esse foi um dia perdido&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tomei um banho de chuva,levei um toco,não bebi nada a não ser água da chuva,fiquei de babá, e não assiti a Elba,que depois fiquei sabendo que nem cantou...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tá,mas não iriamos embora naquele dia.Ficariamos mais um pra,quem sabe,ir no segundo dia de festival&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Na falta do que fazer durante o dia me ofereci pra ajudar em algum a fazer doméstico,afinal também sou bom nisso.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aceitaram!Descarados aceitaram!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A família tinha uma espécie de horta,uma criação de porcos e galinhas,típica família de interior.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fui ajudar na horta colhendo coêntro e cebolinha...tinhamos que juntar 600 molhos de coêntro e cebolinha.Acabei minha manhã toda nisso.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Almoçamos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fiquei de bobeira até me familiarizar ao pessoal que trabalha por lá.Daí, fingi que entendia de futebol,venho acompanhando a copa das confederações,e conversamos sobre o assunto durante um tempo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O jogo começou,que vergonha!Primeiro tempo passou e nada!Desliguei a tevê e fui atrás de algo pra fazer.Não achei nada!Que interior mais com cara de interior!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Depois de um tempo comecei a conversar com a avó das filhas do meu padrasto e ela e mais um monte de "comadres" descobriram meu piercing na língua...fui atração durante uns quinze minutos...rsrs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No fim da tarde começou um chuvisco fino e já estavamos em dúvida entre ir e não ir.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não fomos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não choveu!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas, quer saber?Estou feliz de ter voltado pra minha casa.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Respiro co2 que sai dos escapamentos,meu coração queima gasolina sou bicho da cidade e odeio lama.Não tenho nada contra interior,adoro praia mas não suporto passar muito tempo longe da cidade.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mês que vem tem Pacatuba,região metropolitana de Fortaleza...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-8456821190787663640?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8456821190787663640/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-furada.html#comment-form' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/8456821190787663640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/8456821190787663640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/o-furada.html' title='Ó furada!!!'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SkTnfLAjKfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/xyYAHBduogo/s72-c/8809_sjo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-6888096249944677362</id><published>2009-06-23T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T16:01:07.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudade</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SkFeO8zDONI/AAAAAAAAAI4/W_a1qKz5_II/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 373px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 331px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350661443224287442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SkFeO8zDONI/AAAAAAAAAI4/W_a1qKz5_II/s400/untitled.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tô com saudade de tu meu desejo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tô com saudade do beijo e do mel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do teu olhar carinhoso&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do teu abraço gostoso&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;De passear no teu céu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É tão difícil ficar sem você&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O teu amor é gostoso demais&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Teu cheiro me dá prazer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu quando estou com vocêEstou nos braços da paz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pensamento viaja e vai buscar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;meu bem querer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não posso ser feliz assim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tem dó de mim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que é que eu posso fazer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maria Bethania&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Acho que já está virando mania minha postar músicas quando estou sem criatividade...Então escolhi mais uma muito bela por sinal.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"To com saudade de tu meu desejo"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-6888096249944677362?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/6888096249944677362/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/saudade.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/6888096249944677362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/6888096249944677362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/saudade.html' title='Saudade'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SkFeO8zDONI/AAAAAAAAAI4/W_a1qKz5_II/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-5757561271956954237</id><published>2009-06-09T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T16:17:54.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Receita</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SiJ8xfe1OWI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Bm5DptTbv54/s1600-h/627_M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341969297721080162" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SiJ8xfe1OWI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Bm5DptTbv54/s400/627_M.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adcione um pouco de mim à gosto&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A duas chícaras de você,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A uma manhã fria acrescente uma porção generosa de abraços quentes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E mais um monte de carinhos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Junte tudo isso misturando pacientemente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pode até ser no sofá da sala&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deixe cozer ao calor do corpo a fogo alto&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Tempo de preparo:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;uma tarde/noite toda&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-5757561271956954237?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5757561271956954237/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/receita.html#comment-form' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5757561271956954237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5757561271956954237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/receita.html' title='Receita'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SiJ8xfe1OWI/AAAAAAAAAIo/Bm5DptTbv54/s72-c/627_M.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-3223180301622578554</id><published>2009-05-30T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T07:02:11.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rimas fracas#2Tédio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SiGuSnfMb0I/AAAAAAAAAII/sJVzmcpFSUI/s1600-h/sunday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341742267898818370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SiGuSnfMb0I/AAAAAAAAAII/sJVzmcpFSUI/s400/sunday.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quero algum dinheiro pra beber &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alguma coisa pra fazer ,&lt;br /&gt;Um "veneno anti monotonia "&lt;br /&gt;Vou ver cair a noite&lt;br /&gt;Vou ver raiar o dia&lt;br /&gt;Me livrar do tédio&lt;br /&gt;(Minha constante agonia)&lt;br /&gt;Quem sabe seja a noite meu remédio&lt;br /&gt;Ou então,quem sabe ,por divino intermédio&lt;br /&gt;Eu consiga minha cura pro tédio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-3223180301622578554?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3223180301622578554/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/rimas-fracas2tedio.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/3223180301622578554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/3223180301622578554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/rimas-fracas2tedio.html' title='Rimas fracas#2Tédio'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SiGuSnfMb0I/AAAAAAAAAII/sJVzmcpFSUI/s72-c/sunday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-7142054410204548483</id><published>2009-05-16T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T15:48:18.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rimas fracas #1(Amor)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sh3GoBy1RxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7MzVgyDE1DY/s1600-h/siegexm6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340643124109985554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sh3GoBy1RxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7MzVgyDE1DY/s400/siegexm6.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oque faço sem tú menina?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você veio, me fez mudar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fez meu jeito tímido e quase frio se apaixonar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me fez feliz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fez o medroso fechar os olhos e pular&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sem pensar se vai cair ou voar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fez o vagabundo sonhar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(tú o criou vagabundo)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fez o poeta rimar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(ou pelo menos tentar)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fez o menino amar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E agora,vivo por ai triste a me perguntar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;por onde andará tu menina?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Começo agora a me aventurar pelo maravilhoso universo dos versos,dos poema e rimas.Nada contra verso branco,nem poderia ter...mas Agora quero desbravar território novo.Essa série de poemas entitulados de "rimas fracas"(pois de fato são) marcam minha tentativa de iniciar-me nesse maravilhoso mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-7142054410204548483?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7142054410204548483/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/rimas-fracas-sobre-amor-1.html#comment-form' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7142054410204548483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7142054410204548483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/rimas-fracas-sobre-amor-1.html' title='Rimas fracas #1(Amor)'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sh3GoBy1RxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7MzVgyDE1DY/s72-c/siegexm6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-3412024062322375245</id><published>2009-05-11T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T15:25:30.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O melhor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/ShXg7AZaYhI/AAAAAAAAAH4/KtJlDI4is6k/s1600-h/Sorriso.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338420237641081362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 342px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/ShXg7AZaYhI/AAAAAAAAAH4/KtJlDI4is6k/s400/Sorriso.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me dê seu melhor sorriso&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aquele amarelo eu não quero&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me dê seu melhor abraço&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se for fraco desfaço&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me dê o melhor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ou não me dê nada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não é que seja exigente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou talvez seja sim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas tem coisas que devem ser de verdade,completas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou não devem ser&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Então meu bem,me dê seu melhor oi &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou me dê seu melhor adeus&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas , me dê seu melhor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-3412024062322375245?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3412024062322375245/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-melhor.html#comment-form' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/3412024062322375245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/3412024062322375245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/o-melhor.html' title='O melhor'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/ShXg7AZaYhI/AAAAAAAAAH4/KtJlDI4is6k/s72-c/Sorriso.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-7981282058207631544</id><published>2009-05-07T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T15:43:32.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fanatismo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sg3v4JqmpXI/AAAAAAAAAHw/VC8kaRzNgMc/s1600-h/Florbela-Espanca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336184881450231154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sg3v4JqmpXI/AAAAAAAAAHw/VC8kaRzNgMc/s400/Florbela-Espanca.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minh’alma, de sonhar-te, anda perdida&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meus olhos andam cegos de te ver!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não és sequer razão de meu viver,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pois que tu és já toda a minha vida!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não vejo nada assim enlouquecida…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Passo no mundo, meu Amor, a ler&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No misterioso livro do teu ser&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A mesma história tantas vezes lida!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Tudo no mundo é frágil, tudo passa…”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando me dizem isto, toda a graça&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Duma boca divina fala em mim!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E, olhos postos em ti, vivo de rastros:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Ah! Podem voar mundos, morrer astros,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que tu és como Deus: princípio e fim!…”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;===&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Florbela Espanca&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-7981282058207631544?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7981282058207631544/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/fanatismo.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7981282058207631544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7981282058207631544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/fanatismo.html' title='Fanatismo'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/Sg3v4JqmpXI/AAAAAAAAAHw/VC8kaRzNgMc/s72-c/Florbela-Espanca.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-8174885993072346287</id><published>2009-04-24T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T17:02:33.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flor de azeviche</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SfJUYz-hjHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/EWse0UR-QE8/s1600-h/zbzecaladoz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328414094378765426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SfJUYz-hjHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/EWse0UR-QE8/s400/zbzecaladoz.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você pinta tinta nessa tela cinza&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você passa doce dessa fruta passa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você entra mãe benta amor aos pedaços&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você chega nega fulô&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Boneca de piche, flor de azeviche&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me faz parecer menos só, menos sozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me faz parecer menos pó, menos pozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você fala bala no meu velho oeste&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você dança lança flecha estilingue&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você olha molha meu olho que não crê&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você pousa mariposa morna lisa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O sangue encharca a camisa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me faz parecer menos só, menos sozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me faz parecer menos pó, menos pozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você diz o que ninguém diz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você quer o que ninguém quis&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você ousa lousa pra que eu possa ser giz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você arde ao aladeia sua teia cheia de ardiz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando você faz a minha carne triste quase feliz...Você me faz parecer menos só, menos sozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me faz parecer menos pó, menos pozinho &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Você me faz parecer menos... só&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Menos sozinho...Você me faz parecer menos pó, menos pozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;By&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Zeca Baleiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;perdão por postar algo que não seja de minha autoria,mas é que eu não ando não periodo muito bom pra criar seja lá oque for.E no fim das contas essa música é linda&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-8174885993072346287?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8174885993072346287/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/flor-de-azeviche.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/8174885993072346287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/8174885993072346287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/flor-de-azeviche.html' title='Flor de azeviche'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SfJUYz-hjHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/EWse0UR-QE8/s72-c/zbzecaladoz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-7721581082914281266</id><published>2009-04-07T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T17:04:57.862-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cadê o poeta?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SdteyaZvYPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/3nKm1cNg4bg/s1600-h/3198105256_ab73bd6ef3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321951604842127602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SdteyaZvYPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/3nKm1cNg4bg/s400/3198105256_ab73bd6ef3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O poeta?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cadê o poeta?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Faz tempo foi-se&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não disse pr´onde &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dizia que já não sabia escrever&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Faltava-lhe inspiração&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dizia que agora era vazia a vida até então repleta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que era completa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora fez-se incompleta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Disse que largou as letras&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-que mentira,não conseguiria!logo agora...-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vai virar atleta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saiu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esgueirou-se pela esquina&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sumiu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-7721581082914281266?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7721581082914281266/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/cade-o-poeta.html#comment-form' title='9 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7721581082914281266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7721581082914281266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/cade-o-poeta.html' title='Cadê o poeta?'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SdteyaZvYPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/3nKm1cNg4bg/s72-c/3198105256_ab73bd6ef3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-5017636858582884930</id><published>2009-03-31T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T17:51:15.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoje[desabafo]</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SdQLQ6aVoUI/AAAAAAAAAGs/6LGKHWwaAoY/s1600-h/mulher%2520deitada.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319889445016936770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SdQLQ6aVoUI/AAAAAAAAAGs/6LGKHWwaAoY/s400/mulher%2520deitada.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;foda-se&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje eu não amanheci bem &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meu bem&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje eu não tô legal&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sei...talvez não seja assim tão mal&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje eu vou quebrar tudo &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vou quebrar a rotina&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Regras&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O gelo &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e o despertador&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou quebrar no meio a monotonia &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me livrar dessa agonia &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que é não saber oque fazer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje ,e talvez só hoje,eu vou tomar um porre &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Andar á toa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou voltar à pé&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chegar atrasado &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não quero ninguém no meu pé&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje eu estou assim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Então sai fora &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me deixa de bobeira &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sou doce &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nunca disse que era &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sou principe &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nem precisei dizer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cansei de fingir leveza&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou explodir &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou mandar à casa do caralho o filho da puta do meu chefe&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou mandar pra puta que pariu aquele pentelho da minha sala&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não importa se eu não sei rimar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu sei oque quero falar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sou assim &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se não me engole &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Também não enche&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vai passando pra não enganchar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje eu nao quero mesmo agradar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou por pra fora aquilo que me fez engasgar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pisar em alguns calos &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou chutar canelas &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não quero mais usar essa máscara que me caiu tão bem&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não sou bom moço&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não vou mais pensar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou agir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Correr antes de andar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adoro ser leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Assim como um certo alguém me ensinou...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adoro tudo oque me tornei&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas agora não&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Agora foda-se!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ah ,agora eu estourei!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sou assim meu bem.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No fim do dia quem sabe eu vá à praia descançar meus pés...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Esse é uma texto de desabafo mesmo.não sei porque resolvi postar mas está ai.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Foi um pouco pensando na loucura que anda sendo minha vida que eu resolvi"desabafar" com meus botoes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-5017636858582884930?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5017636858582884930/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/hojedesabafo.html#comment-form' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5017636858582884930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5017636858582884930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/hojedesabafo.html' title='Hoje[desabafo]'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SdQLQ6aVoUI/AAAAAAAAAGs/6LGKHWwaAoY/s72-c/mulher%2520deitada.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-7290569919451369510</id><published>2009-03-28T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T14:51:28.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Autopsicografia</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;O poeta é um fingidor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Finge tão completamente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que chega a fingir que é dor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A dor que deveras sente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E os que lêem oque escreve,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;na dor lida sentem bem &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não as duas que ele teve,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas só a que eles não tem &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E assim nas calhas da roda &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gira a entreter a razão&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esse comboio de corda &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que se chama coração &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;desconheço o autor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-7290569919451369510?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7290569919451369510/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/autopsicografia.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7290569919451369510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7290569919451369510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/autopsicografia.html' title='Autopsicografia'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-6183567604394435264</id><published>2009-02-21T07:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T06:59:54.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Era uma vez</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SaAqjcmEs7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/ogoGVx7S_es/s1600-h/BXK4729_paisagem-lua-sobre-praia800-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305287149502116786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SaAqjcmEs7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/ogoGVx7S_es/s320/BXK4729_paisagem-lua-sobre-praia800-thumb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Era uma vez vagabundo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sim, ele também tinha um coração vagabundo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que preferia andar pelas noites à procura de aventuras&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Talvez algo pra livrar-lhe da tão entediante sobriedade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que ele julgava ser a forma da realidade bater em sua cara e dizer:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"estou aqui ,em cima de você.Se cair na minha frente vou pisar-te"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas ele resolveu dar uma chance a toda essa caretice&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tomou jeito.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora o vagabundo ouve MPB,Bossa nova e Jack Jonhson&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora o vagabundo não bebe mais cachaça&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-mas também não tem grana pro seu Red Label-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora o vagabundo trata à si mesmo por "boêmio"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dizem ser mais aceitável&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O vagabundo tornou-se razoável,ponderado...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas a realidade ainda lhe assusta &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o coração vagabundo do "boêmio" ?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ele não anda mais pela noite&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas ele,ele não tomou jeito!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ainda tem medo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;este velho vagabundo...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-o coração, este "doce vagabundo"-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;teme pisar em solo frouxo e torcer seu pé&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;andar sozinho e ferido?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Não,nao quero isso...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sempre teve medo de aproximar-se demais&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sempre ficou às escuras &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;observando de longe&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Talvez, por isso velho vagabundo esteja tão só&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tens medo de ferir seus pés&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não vai a lugar algum tendo tanto medo de pisar em pedras&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;saia da beira da praia!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sim,é verdade que a água é um bálsamo aos seu pés&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas também é verdade que lá só encontrará outros feridos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;à procura de cura para seus pés&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não vai achar proteção&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-talvez por que nem procure por isso-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não vai achar nada durável como as rochas de que tanto foge&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;só a areia &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que fica ao sabor do vento&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;indo e vindo &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sem direção&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas ainda és novo &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vai aprender a andar nas pedras sem cair&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não é como ter a segurança de não ferir-se numa queda em areias soltas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas depois de algumas quedas &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;aprende-se a levantar-se com mais facilidade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;adoro minha praia&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É verdade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas agora quero pisar em solo firme&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e dar na cara da realidade dizendo:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"estou aqui.se me pisar vou levantar e te alcançar"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;continuarei a ser o vagabundo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas agora "on road"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-6183567604394435264?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/6183567604394435264/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/era-uma-vez-vagabundo-sim-ele-tambem.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/6183567604394435264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/6183567604394435264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/era-uma-vez-vagabundo-sim-ele-tambem.html' title='Era uma vez'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SaAqjcmEs7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/ogoGVx7S_es/s72-c/BXK4729_paisagem-lua-sobre-praia800-thumb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-7381171249009670839</id><published>2009-02-19T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T15:50:38.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leve</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SalwpmCRlpI/AAAAAAAAAGk/MLOUwmzx0Ps/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307897495719876242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SalwpmCRlpI/AAAAAAAAAGk/MLOUwmzx0Ps/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sim me leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;leve feito o vento&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que me leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"de ultra-leve,de avião,de caminhão ,de zeppelin"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pra onde eu possa ser&lt;br /&gt;Pra onde eu possa ser leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pra onde o sol ferve &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e pra onde a água me refresque&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sim,me leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pra parságada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pra saigon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou Babylon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vento me leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quem sabe pr´onde?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Onde eu possa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dançar um reggae &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;de pés descalços&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;subir a serra &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;achar o paraiso&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;meu lugar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;de ser leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(lugar de leveza?...)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;de ser &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou não ser&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O meu lugar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nem precisa ser como os campos Elísios&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não precisa tanto&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Basta um canto &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Onde eu possa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ser leve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;===&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S: O lugar de leveza a que me refiro é um blog .Esse blog me deu a idéia desse 'poema'.Afinal se queres saber oque é ' ser leve' visite:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lugardeleveza.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.lugardeleveza.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Afinal quem não quer ser leve?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-7381171249009670839?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7381171249009670839/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/leve.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7381171249009670839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/7381171249009670839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/leve.html' title='Leve'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SalwpmCRlpI/AAAAAAAAAGk/MLOUwmzx0Ps/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-4753931601117118002</id><published>2009-02-12T16:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T15:55:51.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Andando é que se chega</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SZyfk0tHt7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/5d6jaHsGiFs/s1600-h/untitled2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304289916107601842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 188px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SZyfk0tHt7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/5d6jaHsGiFs/s320/untitled2.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SZyeNeMvMoI/AAAAAAAAAGM/rn2cJ9K7ROE/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Andando é que se chega&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chega-se à qualquer lugar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É possível vencer grandes distâncias&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Transpor grandes obstáculos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nem sempre é fácil,é verdade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nem sempre temos motivaçao de continuar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E tenho que admitir:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nessa caminhada que é a vida eu já pensei em parar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Parar em definitivo...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Andava cansado de não ver meu ponto de chegada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas as vezes vale a pena vencer o deserto!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As vezes nos deparamos com outros andarilhos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e eles acabam nos conduzindo a outras direçoes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;direçoes que nem imaginava-mos existir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que nem cogitava-mos seguir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas que acabamos por nos surpreender ao perceber que esse era oque queriamos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;desde o princípio da nossa caminhada.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deixar alguém pegar na nossa mão e nos conduzir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pode ser a solução pra encontrar nosso caminho?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ainda procuro por minha direçao&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;verdade que já avistei alguns andarilhos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas só à alguma distância&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;verdade que já me aventurei por algumas trilhas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;já segui por vários outros caminhos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;até já me deparei com alguns bichos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(bichos de sete cabeças...)que me fizeram exitar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas vislumbrar o paraiso me fez pensar em continuar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;chegar ao meu lugar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;onde encontraria tudo que estava procurando&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;um dia quem sabe chego lá&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não sei se vou encontrar meu lugar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas estou decidido a continuar tentando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-4753931601117118002?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/4753931601117118002/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/andando-e-que-se-chega.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/4753931601117118002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/4753931601117118002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/andando-e-que-se-chega.html' title='Andando é que se chega'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SZyfk0tHt7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/5d6jaHsGiFs/s72-c/untitled2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-2247623102000203057</id><published>2009-02-04T14:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T15:02:33.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oque eu quero</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Agora eu quero alguém&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;alguém que acalme meu coração&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cansei de correria&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora eu quero paz!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cansei de ir e vir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tenho de parar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;preciso descansar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cansei do ácido&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora eu quero o doce&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cansei do explosivo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;agora eu quero o estável&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cansei do fogo ariano&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;preciso da suavidade pisciana&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cansei do rock&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Agora eu quero a paz dos versos de um certo Zeca&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cansei de só andar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;preciso de uma direção&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas, se for me perder &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;quero alguém comigo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não pra se perder junto&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas pra me trazer de volta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cansei do sol&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dele eu nunca gostei mesmo...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;prefiro a serenidade da lua&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cansei disso tudo!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E,até que canse de tudo isso que eu tenho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nada mais me fará falta&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-2247623102000203057?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2247623102000203057/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/oque-eu-quero.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/2247623102000203057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/2247623102000203057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/oque-eu-quero.html' title='Oque eu quero'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-8990691434415296991</id><published>2009-01-30T15:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T04:18:52.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>O vagabundo</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A noite realça o charme das ruas&lt;br /&gt;torna mais atraente oque de dia nem brilha&lt;br /&gt;torna misterioso&lt;br /&gt;oque saltava aos olhos&lt;br /&gt;torna aconchegante aquela calçada próxima a praia&lt;br /&gt;a areia fria sob nossos pés&lt;br /&gt;acariciam&lt;br /&gt;O abraço torna-se mais forte&lt;br /&gt;mais quente,atraente&lt;br /&gt;Nas minhas voltas noturnas&lt;br /&gt;pelos cominhos que não me levavam a lugar nenhum&lt;br /&gt;um dia fui encontrado por alguém&lt;br /&gt;assim meio sem querer&lt;br /&gt;Quase sem querer o vagabundo foi se sentindo um pouco mais sortudo&lt;br /&gt;Quem sabe não é ela?Aquela que eu tanto esperei&lt;br /&gt;Aquela que eu procurei...e que me achou&lt;br /&gt;De forma tão misteriosa...&lt;br /&gt;O vagabundo não achava que alguem tão interessante gostaria de...um vagabundo&lt;br /&gt;Ao invés de pegar em sua mão decidi ver onde a tua me levaria&lt;br /&gt;oh,tolo vagabundo!!!tornou se apático,sem graça&lt;br /&gt;sem sal...triste vagabundo!!!&lt;br /&gt;Agora andas por ai&lt;br /&gt;desolado pelas ruas escuras&lt;br /&gt;Agora,noite, seu charme já nem atrai tanto quanto antes&lt;br /&gt;a graça da noite não é mais "tão assim" quando se está só&lt;br /&gt;É como ter medo do escuro e não ter o cobertor&lt;br /&gt;(engraçado como o medo desparece debaixo dele)&lt;br /&gt;agora ,vulnerável&lt;br /&gt;sente-se atacado de forma traiçoeira pela solidão&lt;br /&gt;Agora andas sozinho no escuro&lt;br /&gt;Oh,triste&lt;br /&gt;O vagabundo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-8990691434415296991?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8990691434415296991/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/01/o-vagabundo.html#comment-form' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/8990691434415296991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/8990691434415296991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/01/o-vagabundo.html' title='O vagabundo'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7521861085871658303.post-5188530288418036372</id><published>2009-01-27T15:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T04:02:17.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>O cenário</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A chuva&lt;br /&gt;Uma gaita, um blues&lt;br /&gt;Um abraço&lt;br /&gt;Um beijo,Desejo&lt;br /&gt;Eu&lt;br /&gt;Você e a chuva&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7521861085871658303-5188530288418036372?l=conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5188530288418036372/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/01/o-cenario.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5188530288418036372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7521861085871658303/posts/default/5188530288418036372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversacommeusbotoes.blogspot.com/2009/01/o-cenario.html' title='O cenário'/><author><name>Bruno de matos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496005160430878001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0oTzXjvq1mk/SX-h-JnbOGI/AAAAAAAAAEY/nXWk9m33xic/S220/Z1jf2q7x.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
