thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
do sentimentoSo o tempo diraPode serUma nova ilusaoPode serEsse meu coracaoOu sera o amor, ou seraQuando a tua boca me rouba um beijoSinto meu chao racharAmo teus contornos, em ti me vejoDentro do teu olharMas bem la no fundo me bate um medoMedo de me entregarQuase todo mundo tem um segredoMe ajuda a desvendarEssa Musica sem duvidas traduz o momento.
A felicidade tem cheiro, cor e sabor.Cuzcuz, queijo, beiju,Alfazema...A felicidade tem som...Riso, Nana, sussurro...Cancao...E e bela, e linda, e flor...Nos cabelos, nos vestidos, no sorriso.Nos sinais, na pele...A felicidade e luz...Nos olhos, entrando pela janela,Iluminando os colchoes, a mesa...E um leve medo de estar sonhando.21/07/2008Elaine Santana A lagrima que caia dos seus olhos naquele momento ja nao era tao viva como as lagrimas que escorreram sobre sua face durante toda sua vida. A paixao sempre foi um problema para Laura, mas nunca pensou que fosse ser tao perigoso se encantar, nem que demoraria tanto tempo pra perceber as qualidades de alguem. Alguem que nesse caso era Jeferson, seu primo. Encontra-lo agora, digo, a poucos minutos, fez relembrar tudo, mas pra que relembrar? Ja nao existe mais nada! Ou pelo menos foi o que ela disse a Jeferson no dia do seu casamento. Disse-lhe tudo! Tudo mentira, e verdade, mas lhe disse tudo. Nao podia, dessa maneira, trair! Jeferson casou cedo, as criancas adoravam Laura. Chamavam-lhe de tia! Nao. Definitivamente nao podia. E... primo com primo... isso nao da certo! Mas hoje... logo hoje! Talvez fosse mesmo o melhor dia para reencontra-lo e enterrar, com seja la quem for que estiver naquele caixao, essa historia. Ela era feliz. Sempre foi. Fez sempre o que quis e nao era uma paixaozinha qualquer que a impediria, nesse momento, de fazer o que achava melhor. Nao olhou. Fingiu nao ve-lo. Mesmo assim percebeu sua tristeza quando olhava escondido para ninguem ver. Pai e um so, ne? Ja se preparava para quando fosse a sua vez... Lembrou o quanto ele apoiava a uniao dos dois. Em qualquer reuniao familiar, o tio deixava claro que Laura seria a nora perfeita pra ele. Citava todos os seu predicados e alertava o filho: Jeferson... abra o olho! Olhe a garota maravilhosa que ta sentada do seu lado!. Riamos e o assunto morria. Todos ja estavam acostumados com as brincadeiras do tio Ricardo. Nesse caso nao era brincadeira, mas como so ele e a tia Dalva sabiam, o comentario soava como gozacao. Eles eram muito discretos e ate hoje ninguem sabia. O silencio era o amigo mais presente no ambiente. Em certos momentos era tanto que nem os solucos da viuva eram ouvidos. E. Em meio a inumeros olhares escondidos, eis que acontece um encontro. E agora? Conseguia fingir tudo, mas naquele momento.... Era impossivel! Foram necessarios milesimos de segundos para que tivesse certeza que ele lia sua alma e sabia das mentiras, dos fingimentos, tudo! Sentia tambem algo diferente em seu olhar. Revolta? E... os olhos fixos nela... parecia revolta... mas por que? Foi acidente! Viu ele se aproximar e, por um momento, parou de sentir o pulsar do seu coracao. Seu corpo tremia tanto que pulsacao e tremor se misturaram, ja nao tinha como distinguir. Jeferson agarrou seu braco como se fosse a unica coisa que desejasse na face da Terra. E era. Laura nao sabia o que pensar, que satisfacao dar a seu marido que olhava intrigado o acontecimento. Viu tambem sua tia, cumplice do amor dos dois,
que fitava a situacao com os olhos arregalados. Ele nunca a tratou dessa maneira! E. longe daquele silencio, o ouviu dizer tudo o que queria dizer, chorar, pedir, sorrir (?)... enlouquecer! Constatou que nao era revolta o que tinha visto em seus olhos, era odio, loucura! Bracos e maos se fundiram num misto de pavor, confusao, amor... ate sentir que nao podia mais mexe-los- estavam presos. Ouviu palavras que soaram como despedida... e um estampido. Sentiu essa lagrima morta, e, antes de tudo se apagar, ouviu outro estampido. E viu a lagrima morta de Jeferson... Elaine Santana31/08/05
nao saber respeitar as regras ou o que se espera, seja na infancia ,quando diziamos; quero aquele brinquedo! chorar e espernear pra conseguir algo era normal ,seja quando se estar no inicio do namoro! Quero "aquilo" agora! mas percebo que ainda nao nos desvinculamos desse sentimento de imediatismo, deste "nao" saber esperar, nao saber a hora determinada das coisas, parece que pegar atalhos tornou-se eminente. Sempre digo que " Sinal curto pra uma vida longa" , quando alguem avanca o sinal de transito, alem do mais e normal os motoristas avancarem por estarem com "pressa" ou apenas naquela luta psicologica de estarem na frente um do outro!
Nao e de hoje que se fala sobre as nossas forcas psiquicas e como temos!apesar de ser tao comentado ainda existem pessoas mesquinhas que pensao pequeno e se maldizem o tempo todo,ate mesmo profetizam suas proprias doencas: _ O tempo mudou acho que vou ficar com gripe! ou amanha nao levantarei direito pois estou muito cansado!Palavras deste tipo so nos causam mal...voce ja disse o que iria acontecer...agora pra acontecer basta acordar no dia seguinte, lembre-se as palavras teem poder Devemos sempre trilhar pensamentos construtivos, a nossa fe esta baseada nas nossas emocoes,"a fe remove montanhas" e tao antigo,mas sabio. E atraindo bons fluidos que nosso dia fica mais saudavel,mais brilhante, mais excitante! O nosso dia depende muito das nossas acoes e bons pensamentos , a vida e um sonho ! que a qualquer hora podemos "acordar" se libertar das nossas aflicoes e um desejo icontestavel . A vaidade dos dias nos deixam cegos, a rotineira vida que escolhemos nos deixam cancados, so com a forca positiva da mente que se ha "salvacao" Para chuva cair, faz calor, com o calor: nos reclamamosE pra esfriar ,e preciso que chova, logo vem a chuva e alaga tudo.Alaga tudo por que alguem nao respeitou a natureza, Construiu; casas, predios, alguns empecilios.Empecilio sempre colocamos, seja pra ajudar um desconhecidoSeja para dar uma forca a um amigo.Amigo e sempre aquele que amamos sem dizer que ama.E amar e tao simples, que complicamosComplicamos porque colocamos empecilio.E por isso que quando chove alaga tudoE antes de chover faz calor,E nos reclamamos! Tempo e ouro. Sei que ja fiz varias vezes, mas agora tento ao maximo que isso nao aconteca, E CHEGAR ATRASADO. Chegar atrasado uma vez, pode acontecer, duas vezes tambem ,mas tornar isso um habito, e uma falta de respeito com os colegas ou para com quem o espera. Chegar atrasado causa: acidente, prejuizo, e tira concentracao entre outras. Ja o atrasado habitual acha tao natural que perde ate a sensibilidade e acha tao normal que isso aconteca."mas um dia a casa cai". Mas se voce faz isso com uma certa frequencia , entao reveja seus conceitos ,seus valores, ainda ha tempo , mas nao se atrase pra voce mesmo. Oba!Oba!Oba!O Brasil ira sediar a copaE tambem as olimpiadasMas o que se ve e muita hipocresiaA educacao vai malA seguranca publica tambem nao vai nada bemE a saude publica? Em tempos de olimpiadasO Brasil sera invadido de investidoresDe gringos! Mas que investimentos?Pra onde?e para que?E ainda gritamos!pintamos a caraOrgulhosos, de ser patriotas!Patriotas que nao conhece sua propria historia Mas aqui e terra do samba, e da bumda tambemE com um sorriso singelo, verde amarelo todos dezem: amem! IdentidadeNao e apenas uma foto em um pedaco de papel, nao sao apenas dados...e um cartao de visita,pra quem olha,ver voce sem sorriso nenhumsempre nos parecemos estranhos diante de uma foto 3x4 de documentoe pior que sao rara as pessoas que gostam delamas ela nos revelam muita coisa,se pararmos para analisar:eu tinha 18 quando a tirei,e uma vez na vida de cada ser hoje ,eu com 27 me pareco nostalgico
falando sobre meus 18 anosmas fazer 18 representa uma passagem de um certo ritual masculino,a maior idade. _eu ja sou "homem" pai!, mas o que representa ser homem?E ter uma identidade? Claro que nao!assim como uma foto,ter uma identidade e ser voce mesmoe ter uma analise critica do que acontece,e ter responsabilidade sobre os meus atos,mas que bem que eu gostaria de ter 18 como era bom ter 18,acordar tarde,so estudarnao que eu nao goste de trabalhar!mas fico feliz ser o que eu soupois quando eu era adolescene eu era indeciso,inseguro...mais ingenuohoje eu ate posso ser,mas a minha cabeca e mais equilibradapor experiecias vividas...
escrito em 15/08/2002.O que todos procuram?Um sonho?Ou algo impensavel, talvez...O que quer que seja, sera?Todos procuram um paraiso perdido,Um sonho nao vivido,Uma aurora nunca vista ou quista,Um trofeu para a essencia,- nao apenas mais uma conquista;O "Um" Amor.Ele esta a esperaNo mais belo bosque,ou quem sabe na mais alta montanha.O Amor e um meteoro sem rota,cai porque tem que cair,atingindo a quem deve atingir.E impossivel prever a hora certa,mas da pra sentir. Caught the plane feeling very upset already, I knew that I would have to be hours without smoke. Habit as old as the anger itself, I was dealing well till that moment.Have a nice trip, was everything that I needed to wake up that sensation. -Fuck You, were the precise words on my mind at that moment but I, using of all my courtesy, said thank you instead. At least I kept the you, said I, to myself.Trying to relax had been, also, a free fall on frustration, once I heard that creepy voice: -Don't you think that you're too young to be stressed out like that, young boy? Looking around, I was overtaken by the astonish sensation of madness. Were I hearing voices again? I thought it was past and that it was left behind with all those newborns but, then... I felt that terrible smell of rotten flesh. As if someone had open the ancient sarcophagus of ...-Show some respect young boy, I could be your grandfather! That voice, a new one, there had been unveiled as an old man getting out of my backpack, with no shame to disrupt the already troubled mind of mine. Obviously, I was resolute in deny any kind of effort that my lack of sex, or any other addiction, could be doing to destroy my consciousness or credibility.I had to admit that his Portuguese, as I wasn't supposed to know, was extraordinary for a German who came straight from last century.Heidegger was seated besides me, smoking his old pipe and blowing that primitive smoke right on my face, grinning for his secure invisibility. - I would like to be alone, if your graceful self don't mind.-So why did you bring the book, moreover, talking about self... there is where lies all your problems and doubts, also in your youth, of course.-Are you trying to convince me that you have some Ubermensch powers? That you really remember what youth means? You are a very brave product of my addicted imagination, most definitely.-As much as you are trying to deny the truth. In fact, Schopenhauer agrees with me, he is smiling to me, right behind you.That was a huge lie, he was in fact there, however, not smiling but, not giving himself the trouble of close the window which brought the hurtful sunlight but, fading it with his beholding, instead. I was getting really upset with that whole outrageous situation when, looking over his shoulder, Schopenhauer made the solicitous stewardess cry. That, suddenly, made me interested on the first elder's speech. After take notes of the nutzlos hundin that he said, I've turned my
attention to Heidegger again.-So, tell me grandfather, what do you mean?-The source of your suffer lies on the incomprehension of self and time. This border and the, nonexistent, differentiation that you built between them, are the, ironically saying, reason of all your pain. Schopenhauer (he, who does not even blink) would agree with me, that what we are, is comprehended in the time on what we are contained, with no after or before. It makes our existence a whole among time and being. We are free in the world, without that our will have had any participation on that, however, we are in a endless pursuit to become what we wish to be. Life is a projection of the world, with the world and to the world.-The thing itself here, young boy, is your inauthentic existence.Schopenhauer moves his icebergs, I mean, eyes, right inside my soul. Now, even the lights on the airplane turns in a shy penumbra and I start to fear the security of the flight itself...-The detour of your essential project, what is become yourself, in detriment of daily worries in a matter of becoming socially accepted, is an issue to be solved. Your self is being sacrificed by the oppressive needs of the collective. For what? For who would you live, but for yourself, the primal and necessary one which you must attend and satisfy? Daily life made you lazy and tired of yourself, cowering you in front of social pressure, ending up preferring to vegetate as an exiled of your own...Arriving in Brazilia, the capital of my beloved country, I just ignore the crying faces around me until I drive myself to the next cafeteria carrying both philosophers on my backpack. A safe way to keep them entertaining each other, even though, just hearing Heidegger's voice. Soon as I've found a place as private as permitted by the huge amount of my addicted fellas, with whom I had to share the smoking area, I got back to the topic with, this time, the honor of the speech.-I don't just understand but, agree, that the self is one within the time of it's own existence. The subtraction of it self instead of the collective is , thought, a misconception of yours.It is pure foolish to think that we can be, by ourselves, independently of our equals. Do you think that mankind could evolve enough to provide you your titles and degrees without cooperation? Do you think that high level cooperation exists without sacrifice?-I think that the improvement of the self is, or should be, the cornerstone of the human thought. It excludes self sacrifice by a collective well being.-I understand, you think that we should all follow your magnificent example and withdraw to the forests, looking for a inner truth, ignoring the aspirations of our families like you did. At last, our responsibilities are primarily with the center of our universes, ourselves.-Yes because if I sacrifice myself for them, I have less of me to offer. - He said-How does a father becomes a good one if not
by building himself for other person? How does he do that without taking out some of his own lifetime just to give it to another? How are we supposed to achieve our inner truths, by denying our own nature, which is to procreate and perpetuate our species instead of living for ourselves?Taken by the fear of having his pages burned, Heidegger leave me alone advising me to keep reading and, maybe, if I get through the fourth page, I can change my mind about our conversations... Even considering it a absurd, I magnanimously consider the hypothesis of keep reading his book. I take my seat in the second plane, glad receiving kind words of Schopenhauer saying-I like your style, kid.
decide what is right or wrong by themselves, ridiculouslydisregarding the fact that there are laws all over the world regulating theauthority and responsibility of parents concerning their childrens orientationand guidance. Yet, disregarding and pretending to forget (Otherwise attestinghis incompetence) the fundamental structural -psychological importance ofparental guidance on the healthy development of the individual, defended andunveiled by psychology, which he is supposed to be defending.Other possibility is that you, dear reader, is being mislead by me onceso far you didnt go looking the original context that this excerpt is takenfrom. Anyways, semantic deception is easily applied. Justice may be blind, dearreader, but injustice is quite visible. Not getting religious here, but.Just because the Church burned thousands in the name of Jesus, does itmake Jesus the Lord of fire? Does it make the love that He spoke of, just afugacity? What has love become nowadays if not just an abstract noun? What othershave done with the name of Jesus and the Love that he preached has no necessaryconnection with Jesus or Love.How may one speak of love without have seriously considered to conceivea child. How may one have seriously considered to conceive a child without haveconsidered to take a life? To murder? Just a vain person, that cannot understand it and is impaired to feelit, could talk about it with such carelessness. Does not a pregnant woman risks her life every time she decides to havethe child? Would it be plain lack of thoughts and information? Is she notdeciding to give the child, life so to speak, a chance, betting her own life inthe process?Do not women get into prostitution every day in order to achieve themeans to feed their babies? Dont they love their children more them themselves?To love another more than yourself is really that ridiculous things that theysay at the magazines? Can you point yourfinger at one of these prostitutes and call her just a whore? That is not,dear reader, ingenuity. But lack of character. What does it matter then, what was made of Jesus name? One may not talkabout love without being misunderstood. If love is or were anything relatedwith which was spoken by Jesus, it has lost its semantic meaning...As the rest in life, like pride, glory, honor and mercy... The ends arewhat matter. To achieve them. For itdoesnt matter what you desire to give or receive, however, the delivery of theintended deed is what bears real importance. Not the transmission of themessage but how it hits the target, How the message is received and understood.There is where the power of communication lies. SmokescreenVulgar military term that comes from ages of bloodshed. To create a smokescreen is to obscure thetargets or someones vision by casting a wall of smoke in between the enemyseyes and the casters sight. No grass or wood has to be burned and no platoonare demanded to hide nor to inflame its lungs with smoke anymore. Therefinement of such strategy reaches levels never before imagined by its ancientcreators. The current use of the smokescreen strategy is far more subtle. As CarlVon Clausewitz alongside many others have
puppeteersbehind most of relevant organizations. Studies have shown the inclination ofsociopaths and psychopaths to look for a position to exert their willcomfortably. The enemy understandsthe concepts of power and its uses, making relevant part of their personalefforts to acquire and maintain power. Throwing the acknowledgement of suchconcepts into oblivion is a central part of the strategy. One does not simplygive their opponents its own means and secrets.Power is all thatmatters. Knowledge is only a step towards power, not power in itself. Power may not bewisely used without knowledge, thats a fact, however, knowledge alone is nomore than a gun without ammunition. It may impress but may not fulfill itspurpose, which is to operate changes on the objective realm. It is foolish tothink that a book can operate bigger changes in a humans life than the strikeof an axe. Anybody can be changed by an axe; the same cannot be said about abook. They may censor a book. Can theystop a trigger? Can they cure a maniac? Maybe with an axe.The cattle do not doas it pleases but, yet, as commanded by the shepherd in the very way they aresteered. The cattle are not able to perform individually nor have their ownideas. They are only able to follow. They seek nothing more, they deservenothing less.How many of thesebiped pigs have we encountered throughout our lives that have received themeans to express their individuality? The education to develop themselves asindividuals? Nevertheless, they are still cattle. They wish no freedom, pleadno justice, seek no revenge. Laziness and weakness are their gods, shoulder toshoulder with Mamon. If you are no different of them, do not pity the fools. Pity is given fromabove to below, keep that in mind before pretending empathy. Keep your despisefor my words to yourself and maybe do something about the undeniable reality.Lead them onto something better. Or behead with them.
fantasia.Com avidez agarra o longe,Seu coracao jamais conhece a calmaIncessante, em estrelas distantes,Busca a imagem do seu sonho.Mas, com olhares de encanto e fascinio,As mulheres chamam a si o fugitivo,Trazendo-o a mais avisados caminhos.Na mais modesta cabana maternaForam deixadas, com modos mais brandos,As filhas fieis da Natureza piedosaAdverso e o esforco do homem,Com forca desmesurada,Sem paragem nem descanso,Atravessa o rebelde a sua vida.Logo destroi tudo o que alcanca;Jamais termina o seu desejo de luta.Jamais, como cabeca da Hidra,(3)Eternamente cai e se renova.Mas, felizes, entre mais calmos rumores,Irrompem as mulheres, num instante de flores,Propiciando zelo e cuidadoso amor,Mais livres, no seu concertado agir,Mais propensas que o homem a sabedoriaE ao circulo infindavel da poesia.Severo, orgulhoso, autarcico,O peito frio do homem nao conheceEfusivo coracao que a outro se ajuste,Nem o amor, deleite dos deuses,Das almas desconhece a permuta,As lagrimas nao se entrega nunca,A propria luta pela vida temperaCom mais rudeza ainda a sua forca.Mas, como que tocada ao de leve pelo Zefiro,Celere, a harpa eolica estremece,Tal e a alma sensivel da mulher.Com angustiada ternura, perante o sofrimento,O seu seio amoroso vibra, nos seus olhosBrilham perolas de orvalho sublime.Nos reinos do poder masculino,Vence, por direito, a forca,Pela espada se impoe o citaE escravo se torna o persa,Esgrimem-se entre si, em furia,Ambicoes selvagens, rudes,E a voz rouca de Eris (4) domina,Quando a Carite (5) se poe em fuga.Porem, com modos brandos e persuasivos,As mulheres conduzem o ceptro dos costumes,Acalmam a discordia que, raivosa, se inflama,As forcas hostis que se odeiamEnsinam a maneira de ser harmoniosa,E reunem o que no eterno se derrama.(6)Wurde der Frauen