Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I, FIDEL GUEVARA CIENFUEGOS DE CASTRO



President Bush has the body of a classic statue. He leaves me unexplicably happy. He asks me to bring his whisky to bed.
And if i scream without explanation is just because he is already married.


When I was younger I fought against the devils who exploited my people. Mrs.Revolution was a lovely nude girl with sparkling diamond breasts.
She used to ask me to bring her whisky to bed. She was sweet an attractive.
And if I screamed without explanation was just because I knew I was Her enemy.


President Bush is attractive and sweet. And because we have no common sense, he makes me tired. Yes, I feel this is the right way to do things.
And if i scream without explanation is just because we are not married yet.


When I was younger Mrs. Revolution used to leave me unexplicably happy, as if nothing else mattered. I was El Comandante, and Che Guevara and Camilo Cienfuegos were lovely nude girls with sparkling diamond breasts who loved Her.
And if I screamed without explanation was just because I knew I was their enemy.


Then came the Bay of Pigs invasion; then came labor camps which confined "social deviants" including homosexuals; then came american embargo, my greatest ally.
That´s why I`ve made Iove to all american presidents. Yes, we felt this was the right way to do things.
And because we have no common sense, mutual seduction is more than a possibility.


Yes, I have made love to all american presidents. They all were lovely nude girls with sparkling diamond breasts who loved me too. They all had the body of classic statues and left me unexplicably happy, as if nothing else mattered.
Then I became Fidel Guevara Cienfuegos de Castro, their enemy.
NOWHEREMAN
Só para quem gosta de fazer zapping...O autor deste blogue também está aqui http://obloguedosarja.blogspot.com/

Friday, July 27, 2007

AS ALLAH, I HAVE MANY NAMES



As Allah, I have many names. Gaddafi or al-Gaddafi or al-Qadhafi. They think they can tell me what to think. There is no explanation for this, for all my names live in a dream.


Once my life was a cliché. I was a colonel, a king, a warrior, a terrorist. Now I am a man of peace and have much time to read huge Haikus.


Who I am? My personal bodyguard, who is composed of 40 african women, has bathed me with their tears to improve my karma. Now they tell me I am the greatest.


As Allah, my name has 37 spellings. Gaddafi or al-Gaddafi or al-Qadhafi. Can you help me to spell my name? There is a explanation for this, because your god thinks Allah is a dream.


Who I am? My eldest son, who owns all the telecommunication companies in Libya, tells me I am the greatest. There is no explanation for this, because phones and Internet live in his dream pocket.


As Allah, I have many names. Peace or Libya or Sherlock Holmes.They think they can tell me what to think. There is a explanation for this, because Libya thinks in my dream.


Once my life was a cliché. Now I write books and make love to my personal bodyguard. Nothing I can do can hurt me anymore. Peace and love have become my obsession and tell me I am the greatest.


Who I am? The men and women I have murdered tell me I am the greatest. Nothing they can do can hurt me.
Their death didn´t change nothing, my love for them didn´t change nothing, but I`m sure my good karma will change their death into nothingness.
NOWHEREMAN

Saturday, July 14, 2007

COME, GEORGE, PUSH THIS PLANET OVER THE EDGE!





In my opinion, son, life in this planet is too old and the situation is not likely to improve.


All metaphysicians have compared your dance of war to your old girlfriend Cocaine, but I think this image is definitely meaningless.


Come, George, push this world over the edge, says father Bush to his little son, the tiny president of the United States of America. Let me point out this: people have inconsiderately lost the feel of gravity and the situation is not likely to improve.


Pay attention to that crowd of cat lovers, George. Does their love mean anything to you? Look at them as if you were from Mars. They have inconsiderately lost the feel of gravity. They dance and float above the dance of life, George. In my opinion, son, love in this planet is too old and the situation is not likely to improve.


All metaphysicians have compared your old girlfriend Cocaine to your dance of war, but I think this image is definitely meaningless.


Pay attention to that crowd of tiny living things, George. Does their love mean anything to you? Look at them as if you were from Earth. As Humankind travels along the road to perdition, son, listen to your old girlfriend Cocaine. Who told the world she was a messenger from darkness?


Come, George, push this planet over the edge, says father Bush to his little living thing, the tiny president of the United States of America.

Who told the world death was a messenger from darkness?
NOWHEREMAN

Friday, June 1, 2007

STILL, I AM THE GLORY OF HOSNI MUBARAK





This old buddy of yours should have been a stand-up comedian. However, as for this moment, i am who I am and you are what you are, and that's enough for me.


I, Hosni Mubarak, can control you just by thinking. Please, be a witness to my silent work: I am the glory of Egypt. I can control you just by thinking. Still, let me guide you through the only metaphor I know: power is made of meaningless children who believe the clown is not a stand-up comedian.


“Take this banana, otherwise you will never be the President of Egypt” my mother used to tell me in my dreamlike childhood. “This banana contains all the secrets of the ancients. So, just eat it or alaskan mosquitoes will follow you anywhere I want”


Thanks to my mother now I can control you just by thinking: no one runs against the President. Still, let me guide you through the only metaphor I know: power has the strange perfume of panic and makes me feel young again. Yes, I am the glory of Egypt.


This old buddy of yours should have been a stand-up comedian.Please, be a witness to my silent work: I was re-elected by majority votes in several referendums just by thinking. As for this moment, I am who I am and you are what you are, and that's enough for me.

Yes, I am the glory of Hosni Mubarak.

NOWHEREMAN

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

NO, MR. ROBERT MUGABE IS NOT MY FIANCÉ!





Once I was a freedom fighter. Now I fight colonialism and anti-colonialism, my friends.

I always eat an apple by candlelight because those crazy galaxies are freezing in my head, Mr. Mugabe says to his friends. Allow me to offer you some fruit, my friends. I always eat an apple by candlelight. Go ahead and talk about those crazy people who are against me, my friends.
Do they think they are too clean to be real, my friends?


I always eat an apple by candlelight because my enemies are freezing in my head.


Please, eat some fruit, my friends. Go ahead and talk about those crazy galaxies which are against me. Do they think they are too clean to be real? According to my plan, everything in the universe is in love with my mirror. You are no exception, my friends.


Once I was a freedom fighter. Now I fight colonialism and post-colonialism, my friends.


Please, eat some fruit, my friends. Now may we discuss the possibility of pretending you aren't in love with my mirror, my friends? Please, eat some fruit, my friends. Now may we discuss the possibility of pretending that those crazy galaxies out there are not Mr. Mugabe?


I always eat an apple by candlelight. While I suspect you, my friends, are you aware you will never see you again in my mirror, my friends?


My corruption is far better than yours, my friends. And what about those crazy galaxies out there? Why do they cry “No, Mr. Robert Mugabe is not my fiancé?" Have they gone crazy? Why don`t they eat apples by candlelight?

NOWHEREMAN

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

KING ABDULLAH FROM SAUDI ARABIA ENJOYS HUMAN RIGHTS


Does the honeybee have any self awareness? Are we dead or alive?

As you know, I enjoy human rights, Lucy, says king Abdullah. I am afraid to sleep completely disregarding the laws of physics, Lucy. Although I ordered you to go across a mine field I have paralyzed myself with your beauty, Lucy.


Does the honeybee have any self awareness? Are we dead or alive?

You know you have me completely, Lucy. Just as things started to make sense pain and suffering were sent to you this morning, Lucy. Are you dead or alive, Lucy?

I am afraid to sleep completely disregarding the laws of you name, he says to Lucy.

As you know, I enjoy freedom of speech, Lucy. Listen to those songbirds in the distance. They all could be werewolves. I don´t want to believe this is the result of a conspiracy. There is no explanation for this. Those birds need a better way to spend their time, Lucy.


Lucy, does Lucy have any self awareness? Is she dead or alive?


NOWHEREMAN

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

KIM JONG-iL´S BIRTHDAY



I, Kim Jong-il, keep dreaming about riding on a comet, lads.

When I open my eyes you will see sky slowly changing from pink to gray to blue to green to yellow to Me, lads.

This is my birthday, lads. I want you to choose my love. I do it with joy because you love me, lads.

You don´t need your names, lads. Pretend to be someone else and leave your worries behind. I want you to choose my love. I do it with joy because you love me, lads.

Despite your frequent complaints, lads, my love has a very good eyesight. I just steal candy from babies, lads. This is my birthday, lads. Even as you wear your medals like chains this is also your birthday, lads.

I promise you, lads, that Snow White will seek the attention of you all, lads.

I determine that you must close you eyes and speak in tongues, lads. Just pretend to be someone else and leave your worries behind, lads.

I determine, lads, that justice has been done.

나는 너를 의 김 슬쩍 밀기il사랑한다

NOWHEREMAN

Friday, February 16, 2007

AHMADINEJAD LIKES NAZI FLOWERS



These scars are our only beauty and fog is still too thick to be real.

Abandon hope, they said. We are in Auschwitz. You still have your desire, they said. We are nazi flowers. You know the importance of being prepared in a moment of perfection.

No matter what they say night is full of whispers. You, Jew, compare your reason to our dream untill you enjoy it.

Abandon hope, they said. Happiness has made us crazy.



However, fifty years later Mr. Ahmadinejad likes nazi flowers with x-ray vision. He plays Wagner and tries to make some improvements. The sky is surprisingly fragile.

He likes nazi flowers and wants to be reborn just to prove a point. There are still more secrets to be revealed, he says. Holocaust has vanished into my garden and this is my true satisfaction.



Why don´t I feel myself turning to stone? He says.


NOWHEREMAN

CIA FLYING CIRCUS



I have never been lost enough to forget you, Condolezza.

Dancing soldiers with fire in their eyes are still waiting for me. They want me to have a revealing moment in the yard. This is the reason they were born.

They are comedians who like to see me suffer in Guantanamo Hotel.

Someone has a sense of fulfillment. In an unfamiliar room someone screams, everything he sees is neatly askew. He dreams and tortures. And he says close your eyes and join me in my dream of soldier at Guantanamo Hotel. You see,

the sun can't reach us and there is nothing we need.


Azores will live in the glory of Guantanamo Hotel. The moon begins to rise wonderfully, without explanation. I have never been lost engouh to forget you, Condolezza.

I have never been lost enough to forget you, George W. Bush.


My son, whom you will remember, laughs in secret and will show you his scars.


NOWHEREMAN

HUGO CHAVEZ´ TOYS



He dances when he thinks no one is around.

In the cool midday Hugo Chavez is hunting for Venezuelans. This is a familiar situation for Him and He is trying too hard. They all volunteered for medical experiments.

Hugo Chavez insists this is true happiness. A lot of songs start out this way. I say this is a classic scenario. With an eye on the exit all toys are using His name.

He hides His true nature and slinks in like a cat.

Unpredictably, He is inspired by a moment of clarity. They are all using His name.They are His toys. What does this mean? He asks. He falls into space and world seems new.

Hugo, play the harp of your toys, you need not worry. They all volunteered for medical experiments, remember?


NOWHEREMAN