Momente...
- Thread starter Goca
- Data e fillimit
Re: Momente...
</font><blockquote><font class="small">Citim:</font><hr />
"And I want that you, you, you come to me me me me, and say those things to me me me, me, me, you you you, you and I, you and I , you and I stay forever lets be one, stay forever".
Dolce e soporifera filastrocca, quella ke mi canti di tanto in tanto. Dolce e stucchevole ritornello, di una canzone di cui nn mi piace neanke il genere. Dolce, come il caffe' della macchinetta, quando premi il pulsante "extra dolce". Stucchevole, come un'abbondante tazza di latte dopo un abbondante pranzo. Soporifera, come certe lezioni di Sistemi Operativi.
Gli artificiosi meccanismi ke stavo ammirando si sono sganasciati; ciottolano, come a volte ciottolano le vitine nella mia macchina, ke povera macchina, ha ormai piu' di ventanni, come me...
Leggera la sua immagine, divertente, la sua immagine: sorrido, ne sorrido, al pensiero, e con gli oki aperti, sebbene un po' abbioccati x via dell'imminente Primavera, assisto: I'm in the front row, the front row with popcorn. Nient'altro mi resta, ke assistere. With your feet on the air and your head da un'altra parte, potrei raccontarmi mille storie, mille aneddoti, mille casi peggiori, mille casi uguali, milleuno, millenovecentottantuno, potrei, raccontarmi. Potrei anche raccontarmi di noi; potrei raccontarmi di quanto era splendido, quanto era magico: quanto E' MAGICO. Guardami, guardami, abbandonati, abbandonati: sempre di piu, sempre di piu.
Sistemi lineari pidocchiosi e operazioni esotiche mi aspettano, mi aspetteranno, forse non ancora per molto; e un gru', un que', un tin e volendo anche un fff.se se ne stanno allineati come i quarantaquattro gatti in fila per sei col resto di due. (Quarantaquattro modulo sei uguale due).
[/ QUOTE ]
...ridevo come matta oggi appena ho visto un' emu in tv. Your extraordinary eyes jumped into mine even though you werent there. And then i wondered what was so funny about an emu running and you following it in a desert recording its noise on your mobile phone. And then again i thought about your eyes. The rarest eyes i've ever seen in my whole life, that look at me with a feverish love. Then i hear you saying that you want the time to stop, that you want to live now forever.
When I say no, i lie...
</font><blockquote><font class="small">Citim:</font><hr />
"And I want that you, you, you come to me me me me, and say those things to me me me, me, me, you you you, you and I, you and I , you and I stay forever lets be one, stay forever".
Dolce e soporifera filastrocca, quella ke mi canti di tanto in tanto. Dolce e stucchevole ritornello, di una canzone di cui nn mi piace neanke il genere. Dolce, come il caffe' della macchinetta, quando premi il pulsante "extra dolce". Stucchevole, come un'abbondante tazza di latte dopo un abbondante pranzo. Soporifera, come certe lezioni di Sistemi Operativi.
Gli artificiosi meccanismi ke stavo ammirando si sono sganasciati; ciottolano, come a volte ciottolano le vitine nella mia macchina, ke povera macchina, ha ormai piu' di ventanni, come me...
Leggera la sua immagine, divertente, la sua immagine: sorrido, ne sorrido, al pensiero, e con gli oki aperti, sebbene un po' abbioccati x via dell'imminente Primavera, assisto: I'm in the front row, the front row with popcorn. Nient'altro mi resta, ke assistere. With your feet on the air and your head da un'altra parte, potrei raccontarmi mille storie, mille aneddoti, mille casi peggiori, mille casi uguali, milleuno, millenovecentottantuno, potrei, raccontarmi. Potrei anche raccontarmi di noi; potrei raccontarmi di quanto era splendido, quanto era magico: quanto E' MAGICO. Guardami, guardami, abbandonati, abbandonati: sempre di piu, sempre di piu.
Sistemi lineari pidocchiosi e operazioni esotiche mi aspettano, mi aspetteranno, forse non ancora per molto; e un gru', un que', un tin e volendo anche un fff.se se ne stanno allineati come i quarantaquattro gatti in fila per sei col resto di due. (Quarantaquattro modulo sei uguale due).
[/ QUOTE ]
...ridevo come matta oggi appena ho visto un' emu in tv. Your extraordinary eyes jumped into mine even though you werent there. And then i wondered what was so funny about an emu running and you following it in a desert recording its noise on your mobile phone. And then again i thought about your eyes. The rarest eyes i've ever seen in my whole life, that look at me with a feverish love. Then i hear you saying that you want the time to stop, that you want to live now forever.
When I say no, i lie...
abs
nuk e di...
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Sweety el
Locus omnem
per nje moment me ndali zemra se rrahuri dhe thashe pse ndodhi valle mos me drejtoi drejt nje personi ?jo jo cpo them,ne moment kthej koken dhe shikoj nje cun 1.80 i gjate qe po me shikonte..uau.ai moment me kujtohet edhe sot.....nga momenti duhet perfituar se nje here vjen...
gangsterja
Primus registratum
Do te doja qe ta ktheja mbrapsht ate moment para se te flisja percart,para se te beja ato veprime qe si kane hije nje vajze e madje para djalit qe ajo e dashuron tmerresisht.Me ftuan per nje kafe dhe pastaj ma kthyen ne nje teke wiski me redbull,ishte ai moment i mallkuar pasi nuk doja te ofendoja ne ate menyre te tmerrshme dhe te shihja te gjithe me urrejtje sidomos zemren time.I kerkova te falur mbas disa ditesh por ai se pranoi dhe kishte te drejte,cte ben pija te merr ne qafe e te merr dhe dashurine ah moj pije e mallkuar pije.
h3o
Papirus rex
gurax
Pan ignoramus
One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
— Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.
-- Elisabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
— Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.
-- Elisabeth Bishop
gurax
Pan ignoramus
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"Po," u pergjigj zeri. "Ketu." U degjua nje zhurme e ngjashme me nje psheretime dhe nje kercitje e lehte. Pjesa e pasme e makines se policise ishte hapur plotesisht. "Hyr brenda."
"Prit pak, une nuk kam bere asgje!"
"Hyr brenda."
"Protestoj! Kjo eshte absurde!"
"Zoti Faqorja!"
Hapat i hodhi si dikush i cili papritmas ishte dehur. Tek kalonte perpara xhamit te perparm te makines hodhi veshtrimin brenda saj. Ashtu sic pritej, nuk kishte njeri ne timon. Ne fakt makina nuk kishte asnjeri brenda.
"Hyr brenda."
U mbajt me dore tek dera e hapur dhe hodhi veshtrimin brenda. Ishte si nje qeli e vogel dhe ne miniature, nje burg i vogel i zi me shufra hekuri. Kishte nje arome celiku te sapo salduar dhe nje ere te lehte antiseptiku. Ishte shume e paster, shume metalike, shume e forte. Nuk kishte asgje te bute ne te.
"Sikur te kishit nje grua qe te mund te jepte nje alibi per ju do te ishe ndryshe," vazhdoi zeri metalik, "por..."
"Ku do te me coni?"
Makina hezitoi per pak caste, duke bere nje zhurme te lehte gumezhitje nga brenda, sikur nje sasi informacioni brenda saj te kishte gjetur nje hapesire te vogel dhe po rridhte ne formen e nje shiriti te gjate metalik me vrima te vogla per t'u lexuar pas pak centimetrash nga ndonje sy elektrik. "Ne Qendren Psikiatrike per Kerkimet mbi Tendencat Regresive."
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"Po," u pergjigj zeri. "Ketu." U degjua nje zhurme e ngjashme me nje psheretime dhe nje kercitje e lehte. Pjesa e pasme e makines se policise ishte hapur plotesisht. "Hyr brenda."
"Prit pak, une nuk kam bere asgje!"
"Hyr brenda."
"Protestoj! Kjo eshte absurde!"
"Zoti Faqorja!"
Hapat i hodhi si dikush i cili papritmas ishte dehur. Tek kalonte perpara xhamit te perparm te makines hodhi veshtrimin brenda saj. Ashtu sic pritej, nuk kishte njeri ne timon. Ne fakt makina nuk kishte asnjeri brenda.
"Hyr brenda."
U mbajt me dore tek dera e hapur dhe hodhi veshtrimin brenda. Ishte si nje qeli e vogel dhe ne miniature, nje burg i vogel i zi me shufra hekuri. Kishte nje arome celiku te sapo salduar dhe nje ere te lehte antiseptiku. Ishte shume e paster, shume metalike, shume e forte. Nuk kishte asgje te bute ne te.
"Sikur te kishit nje grua qe te mund te jepte nje alibi per ju do te ishe ndryshe," vazhdoi zeri metalik, "por..."
"Ku do te me coni?"
Makina hezitoi per pak caste, duke bere nje zhurme te lehte gumezhitje nga brenda, sikur nje sasi informacioni brenda saj te kishte gjetur nje hapesire te vogel dhe po rridhte ne formen e nje shiriti te gjate metalik me vrima te vogla per t'u lexuar pas pak centimetrash nga ndonje sy elektrik. "Ne Qendren Psikiatrike per Kerkimet mbi Tendencat Regresive."
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..
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TinkerBell
Papirus rex
People are afraid of themselves , of their own reality , their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is , but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel ?
Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry , like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them , and hide them , you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.
~ Jim Morrison
Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry , like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them , and hide them , you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.
~ Jim Morrison
Johana
Forumium praecox
Ishte hera e pare dhe rrjedha e viteve me tregoi se nuk do te ishte hera e fundit. Mbyllja e kapakut te rende metalik te koshit industrial te rikuperimit ose riciklimit te mallrave te demtuar ose te kutive bosh, me trembi. Nuk eshte se rashe por nuk mund te them edhe se u hodha. Erresira me mbuloi dhe mendimi i pare qe me shkoi ne mendje ishte se ne rast se dikush nuk do te me gjente ne kohe edhe mund te vdisja. Cfare fati thashe me vete, po te kisha rene ne nje kosh plehrash edhe mund te mbijetoja. Do gjeja ndonje banane apo ndonje pjeshke dhe do t'a shtyja si do t'a shtyja deri sa te mberrinte shpetimi. Zoti nuk te le pa ndihme. Fati e donte qe te mbaja me vete cakmak. E ndeza. C'te shoh! Kutia e bukur e zeze e cila me kishte shtyre te beja tentatave t'a nxirrja qe aty ishte ne gjendje gati perfekte. Kjo me shtyu te mendoj se nese dicka e bukur eshte bosh mund ta mbush me cfare te dua une. Gje qe me beri te bie ne mendime te thella filozofike te tipit : nese dikush i bukur ne surrat po i shpifur nga brenda mund te boshatiset dhe te mbushet me dicka me te mire cfare rezultati do te kishte ???!!! E hodha menjehere poshte. Eshte sikur te hapesh nje shishe te bukur te mbushur me soya sauce te cilen ti nuk e pelqen dhe t'a mbushesh ate, le te themi me vaj ulliri, ose sikur te futesh nje shpirt pa shtepi ne nje shtepi e cila eshte e ndertuar per nje lloj te vecante shpirti. Kjo do te vinte ne pyetje pronaresine e vertete te dickaje. A eshte shpirti pronar (spirit) apo identiteti (soul)? E humbur ne keto mendime shoh dicka qe leshon nje ndricim te lehte. Eshte nje engjell (figurine krishtlindje) qe e ka nje krah te perthyer me dysh. Uleras nga gezimi. POR kjo nuk me nxjerr dot nga situata apo me mire le te themi nga koshi. Shyqyr qe eshte dimer dhe kam veshur pantallona te trasha, perndryshe ata qe do tentonin te me nxirrnin qe aty, ndoshta me nje vinc, do te kenaqeshin me lekundjet ne ere te tipit cirque de soleil te kembeve te mia atletike. Kjo me kujton faktin se burri eshte brenda ne dyqanin Canadian Tire duke blere budallalliqe per makinen qe nuk ia kam haberin. Po t'a kisha ndjekur ne dyqan kjo qe me ndodhi nuk do te kishte ndodhur. Marr disa kuti dhe i vendos nje mbi nje dhe me nje te shtyre te kurrizit arrij te hap pak kapakun dhe te bertas. Im shoq i cili eshte i inatosur por me teper i habitur (cne aty brenda?) pasi arrin te hape kapakun me pyet me sy te ciles iu pergjigja duke i treguar engjellin si dhe dy pale patina fringo te reja te cilat ishin hedhur ngaqe nuk ishin shume te mprehta.
JC
JC