A Brief History Of José
Behind the dream follows the man, behind the man follows the shadow
Deamons prowl the mind, deamons prowl the mind
A sarcastis smile exposed the canines sheeny thursty
for blood, but the rotten flesh exhale the odor of a thousand years.
Like a transparent grub, walked through the crowd.
Felt... like it was some specie of bacteria not seen by the naked eyes.
Precise instruments are needed to unriddle the emptiness
that transforms black into blue.
Silver eyes can see all.
Vigilants of the moonlit nights.
Wide, eyes shiny from curious.
Suspended upon the heavy heads.
Passes like a herd, the clouds in high speed.
Spent frames of a non Holy past.
Brothels, card games, alcoholism and suits of pure white linen made
in United Kingdom. Itlalian shoes of german leather.
In the wandering of reality got back to where it should never be back.
Expose the gold for the fools that dreamed, will dream, dream and get haunted.
With the teeth and the claws of the hungerborn from the caatinga*1.
Crossed the wilderness in a ship from the navy.
Crossed the Atlantic in the back of a donkey.
On Chile forgot that gotta a family.
Sowed your blood like lusitanian pathfinders.
Runned away from the second war scared of seeing blood.
Brazilian hero, Paraiba`s prodigal son.
Cangaceiro from praca XV and twenty childs spread by the world.
For sure two cholos and two fools.
The devil smiled and whispered beneath the serene moon.
A horny werewolf, wisdom and light.
Saint Cecilia at the fanfarre lead plays " o bonde de São Januário " when
the poor nordestino follows your saga above the iron rails that conects the suburbs with the downtown.
At the egg yolk founded your biggest love.
Mixed mulata of spanish blood and tipical brazilian curves, carioca.
Naughty as a drop, beautiful as a fulo.
For her abandoned the honours received at Sao Paulo`s war and on his death abandoned his childs for their own faith.
His son os resumed to father`s mockery.
His daughter is collapsed by spite and other cancers.
Silver eyes comfort the pain.
When it shines in the sky and reflects in the tear that flows by the freckled skin.
Dutch blood, nordestino blood.
The caboclo's core show marks of a decadent source.
Deamons prowl the mind, deamonds prowl the mind.
original text: José Mauro Pompeu
Translation: Renata Polatschek
dictionary:
Caatinga - is a type of vegetation, and an ecoregion characterized bythis vegetation in the northeastern part of Brazil.
Paraíba - a state of northeastern part of Brazil.
Cangaceiro - is the name given to a form of "social banditry" in the Northeast of Brazil in late 19th and early 20th centuries. This region of Brazil is known for its aridness and hardships, and in a form ofreaction against the domination of the land owners and the government, many men and women decided to become nomadic bandits, roaming the hinterlands seeking money, food and revenge.
Praça XV - is located in central Rio where was the Paço Imperial or Imperial palace; It was one of the main political centers of Brazil for nearly 150 years, from 1743 to 1889.
Cholo - is an ethnic slur created by Hispanic criollos in the 16th century. In sociological literature, it is one of castas,[1] and refers to individuals of mixed or pure American Indian ancestry, or other racially mixed origin.
" o bonde de São Januário - samba written by Wilson Batista, was censured by the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas and the music had to be changed
nordestino - who born in northeast Brazil
Mulata - mulatto woman
Carioca - who born in Rio de Janeiro
fulo - popular way to say flor (flower) in Brazil's northeast
CONTEMPORARY ART-Less
THE REAL TRAGEDY IS THE COMEDY OF LIFE OF CONTEMPORARY MAN,
THAT ENJOY UNDER THE PLACEBO EFFECT OF EPHEMERAL CONSUMPTION
IN AN INSTANT THAT WILL NEVER BE ACHIEVABLE
BECAUSE THE PALM OF HAND BEFORE THE NOSE HIDE THE VISION
THE WORLD OBSCURED BY NEEDS AND EXCESS NOT ALWAYS REQUIRED,
A CATTLE PROZAC NATION OF POLLYANAS FED BY HYPERMIDIA
LIVE THE PROGRESS OF REVERSE, LIVE BY HALF
LET THE OTHER HALF, THE ART LIVE FOR YOU
CONSUME THE ART BY HALF, HALF OF HALF YOU LIVE
CONSUME THE ART BECAUSE ART IS PART OF:
THE MACHINE THAT FEEDS YOU
THE MACHINE THAT STEALS YOUR KEEP
THE MACHINE THAT MAKE YOU DULLS
THE MACHINE THAT MAKES YOU BELIEVE THAT EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE.
( José Mauro Pompeu_2012)
THAT ENJOY UNDER THE PLACEBO EFFECT OF EPHEMERAL CONSUMPTION
IN AN INSTANT THAT WILL NEVER BE ACHIEVABLE
BECAUSE THE PALM OF HAND BEFORE THE NOSE HIDE THE VISION
THE WORLD OBSCURED BY NEEDS AND EXCESS NOT ALWAYS REQUIRED,
A CATTLE PROZAC NATION OF POLLYANAS FED BY HYPERMIDIA
LIVE THE PROGRESS OF REVERSE, LIVE BY HALF
LET THE OTHER HALF, THE ART LIVE FOR YOU
CONSUME THE ART BY HALF, HALF OF HALF YOU LIVE
CONSUME THE ART BECAUSE ART IS PART OF:
THE MACHINE THAT FEEDS YOU
THE MACHINE THAT STEALS YOUR KEEP
THE MACHINE THAT MAKE YOU DULLS
THE MACHINE THAT MAKES YOU BELIEVE THAT EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE.
( José Mauro Pompeu_2012)
Nothing Quiet
Dressed without noise,
Said goodbye to the mirror,
Ran into the arms of those who had not;
In a corner that is nothing quiet,
Download your desires.
Any booze, beer, wiskey, tequila
A clean ashtray in two seconds grubby
Ashes, butts and lipstick marks
Exposed to the nameless
appreciation had
Scanned the empty street and left
Swap legs
Only seven legs
Nothing quiet corner
The brothel of discrete colors
Passed the keys
Metallic tones resounded
As the taste of lead after a Saturday
He tried to remember what had
The head of the gong sounded sadistic
Nothing was remembered as cloudy
Disillusionment the wrathful blinded.
José Mauro Pompeu_2013
The Brazilian Is Not You!
Seeing the World Greater than 'is It'
When we can not grasp it
What is mine is the best in the world
I am Brazilian, exaggerated
We believe in everything that is new
We believe in everything that you can not see
I am from The People marked by the New
A new people who only know how to forget
The sad past, perched on
In the macaw' stick*, arms marked
Hands tied to his back and wound
And yet smiled every day
This is the meaning of life
Live as if it were the last day
The glory is in surviving the lost battles
In these five hundred years of mass slaugther
The trunk, the stray bullet
The foreman, the militia soldier
The slave quarters, a favela on every corner
The news, a Jesuit campaign
I am from The People that transforms, that plays God:
"He writes straight with crooked lines"
Begging from door to door
Asking a chance to shine
Because knowledge is genuine
The culture I who do
I'm the rotten fruit forbidden
The universal sin
A mixture of three races:
A noble, a warrior, and another,
Damn, adventurous, naughty of us,
Historical legacy inherited
The taste for sending
The taste for idleness
The distaste for ethics
Contemporary "work"
Because pride is crossbow
"I am COOL, my brother!"
A Malandro!
It is the Brazilian way
That everyone livelihood
If the flour is poor, who scrape the mush
Whoever comes first eats whole
Grain by grain beans, just to see you on the corner kick
Even if it is a "brother"
It is written!
In the apocryphal Constitution
Brazil, happiness is a myth
Political, harmful, profitable
Colorful with vibrant colors
Mantles of African Gods
Indian imagination
The earthly paradise of God with long white beards
We are all one
Different every one
every one from different backgrounds
unusual Stories
Men of blood red and blue skin
Thieves skin red and blue blood
They stole green, yellow,
Not only stole the indigo blue sky
And the smile,
Toothless, suffered decayed
A picture of a gentle people
Smiling for any unknown
When we understand that
We are the chosen people!
We have the famous Humanity
The wise, the times Oldest
Anthropos! so they said
In cannibalistic society
We repeat today
In the tragedy of comedy everyday.
When we can not grasp it
What is mine is the best in the world
I am Brazilian, exaggerated
We believe in everything that is new
We believe in everything that you can not see
I am from The People marked by the New
A new people who only know how to forget
The sad past, perched on
In the macaw' stick*, arms marked
Hands tied to his back and wound
And yet smiled every day
This is the meaning of life
Live as if it were the last day
The glory is in surviving the lost battles
In these five hundred years of mass slaugther
The trunk, the stray bullet
The foreman, the militia soldier
The slave quarters, a favela on every corner
The news, a Jesuit campaign
I am from The People that transforms, that plays God:
"He writes straight with crooked lines"
Begging from door to door
Asking a chance to shine
Because knowledge is genuine
The culture I who do
I'm the rotten fruit forbidden
The universal sin
A mixture of three races:
A noble, a warrior, and another,
Damn, adventurous, naughty of us,
Historical legacy inherited
The taste for sending
The taste for idleness
The distaste for ethics
Contemporary "work"
Because pride is crossbow
"I am COOL, my brother!"
A Malandro!
It is the Brazilian way
That everyone livelihood
If the flour is poor, who scrape the mush
Whoever comes first eats whole
Grain by grain beans, just to see you on the corner kick
Even if it is a "brother"
It is written!
In the apocryphal Constitution
Brazil, happiness is a myth
Political, harmful, profitable
Colorful with vibrant colors
Mantles of African Gods
Indian imagination
The earthly paradise of God with long white beards
We are all one
Different every one
every one from different backgrounds
unusual Stories
Men of blood red and blue skin
Thieves skin red and blue blood
They stole green, yellow,
Not only stole the indigo blue sky
And the smile,
Toothless, suffered decayed
A picture of a gentle people
Smiling for any unknown
When we understand that
We are the chosen people!
We have the famous Humanity
The wise, the times Oldest
Anthropos! so they said
In cannibalistic society
We repeat today
In the tragedy of comedy everyday.
Prying Eyes
The parts were divided
in other small parts
Nothing was left him ...
the greed jumping out eyes sparkle
Eyes sewn together by wires
Curious eyes that observe distant
Keep the secret of the world, polices
Invent monsters in the superlative of the absurd
Deaf, Blind, Mute
admiring the bright colors
If it's plasma or liquid crystal,
I do not care.
Do you mind
When close the door, and through the windows
Prying eyes, eyes open, eyes always ...
ahead, to the sides, behind
judging you, striking you,
eroding yourself by filing
Aiming at the small part he had stolen
of starvation or distress not die.
Sad was to know that no one actually cared.
Eyes are just curious eyes.
Prying eyes.
Mouths engender infamy!
José Mauro Pompeu_2013