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RRomii trebuiesc compatimiti si ajutati da nu omoriti - de (anonim) la: 26/04/2004 08:07:01
(la: tigani)
Daca nu ar fi fist inrobiti, si sute de ani impusi sa-si verse sudoarea pe mosiile boerilor din România, rromii poate nu mai erau azi acei care sint. Psihologiea de rob nu putea sa nu-si lasa amprenta negativa in felul lor de a fi.
La fel si prigonirea si marginalizarea, la care au fost supusi de catre autoritati, chit si de societate, pe tot parcursul aflarii lor in Europa, a influentat saracia si primitivizmul, modul de viata si psihologiia sociala a rromilor.
Azi ei merita o compatimire si un sprigin, si nicidecum moarte si izolare cum cer unii - neo.... Daca sa fim drepti si cinstiti in fata lui Dumnezeu si a istoriei atunci trebuie sa recunoastem ca autoritatile si societatea contemporana, nu numai Romaneasca ci si Europeana, poarta vina istorica pentru suferintele prin care au trecut si starea diplorabila in care se gasesc azi rromii. Daca am cunoaste adevarul prin ce au trecut ei si chit au suferit, am fi intr-un ghind cu totii - ca Rromii sint un popor martir ce merita sustinenr si compatimire.
fiindca nu-i "politically corect"? - de Simeon Dascalul la: 29/04/2004 12:46:26
(la: tigani)
Vad vreo trei mesaje ai caror autori, oripilati de continutul asa-numit rasist, cereau radierea subiectului. Da' de ce sa fie interzis? Fiindca nu-i "politically corect"? Adica numai opiniile "onorabile" pot fi admise? Poate ar trebui sa supunem subiectele intai cenzurii ONU, Uniunii Europene sau sa cerem aprobarea tribunalului de la Haga.

Alt mesaj sustinea ca:

"Daca nu ar fi fist inrobiti, si sute de ani impusi sa-si verse sudoarea pe mosiile boerilor din România, rromii poate nu mai erau azi acei care sint. Psihologiea de rob nu putea sa nu-si lasa amprenta negativa in felul lor de a fi.
La fel si prigonirea si marginalizarea, la care au fost supusi de catre autoritati, chit si de societate, pe tot parcursul aflarii lor in Europa, a influentat saracia si primitivizmul, modul de viata si psihologiia sociala a rromilor. "

Va sa zica ei sunt buni de felul lor, dar prin inrobire au ajuns ce sunt acum. Tocmai tarile romane unde tiganii au avut un regim juridic de sclavie s-au dovedit cele mai tolerante. In tarile ocidentale au fost cat se poate de liberi, iar masurile de expulzare a lor au continuat vreme de patru secole. Pare-se ca nici liberi nu s-au purtat mai frumos.

Ii vrea vreuna din tarile bogate ca sa-i educe, sa-i sedentarizeze si sa le dea cetatenie?

Si pentru simpatizantii tiganilor, o intrebare: Nu sunteti de acord ca "tigan" are un sens peirorativ?
altfel! - de Alice la: 17/07/2004 11:32:22
(la: Te scoala, Lazare si mergi !)
ai putea sa-ncepi miseleste de-acolo de unde se ciocnesc abulantele de salvari, sau din triaj, unde se pare ca n-a mai ajuns, sarutand padelele cand ala tzipa ‘cleaar’, “inapoi”, ca la ciuma…Se zguduiau amandoi, ca sinele sub tramvai si viata, tarandu-si picoarele dinapoi, urla ca o catea taiata de tren.(::)


in confuzia asta el-ea, textul de sus imi aminteste vag de-o melodie a lui Nick Cave, ce-obisnuiam s-o ascult, far' de-a ma gandi prea mult la sensuri:

They call me The Wild Rose
But my name is Elisa Day
Why they call me it I do not know
For my name is Elisa Day

From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
As she stared in my eyes and smiled
For her lips were the colour of the roses
That grew down the river, all bloody and wild

When he knocked on my door and entered the room
My trembling subsided in his sure embrace
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand
He wiped at the tears that ran down my face


On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen
I said, "Do you know where the wild roses grow
So sweet and scarlet and free?"

On the second day he came with a single red rose
Said: "Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?"
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed
He said, "if I show you the roses will you follow?"


On the third day he took me to the river
He showed me the roses and we kissed
And the last thing I heard was a muttered word
As he stood smiling above me with a rock in his fist

On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
As I kissed her goodbye, I said, "All beauty must die"
And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth

se-nfige-atunci in mine, intrebarea, ca un spin: cate ambulate trebuie sa-i aplici unui mort, sa le putem numi salvari?

alice iacob


"Garcia Márquez's Farewell to His Friends" - de Florin si atat la: 28/08/2004 22:04:59
(la: Avem timp)
Poezia de mai sus imi aduce aminte de
"Garcia Márquez's Farewell to His Friends"

Initial atribuita lui Garcia Machez, a fost o pacaleala. Detaiile le puteti gasi la:

http://www.psa-rising.com/voices/farewell/index.htm

http://www.psa-rising.com/voices/farewell/index.htm

If for a moment God would forget that I am a rag doll and give me a scrap of life, possibly I would not say everything that I think, but I would definitely think everything that I say.
I would value things not for how much they are worth but rather for what they mean.
I would sleep little, dream more. I know that for each minute that we close our eyes we lose sixty seconds of light.
I would walk when the others loiter; I would awaken when the others sleep.
I would listen when the others speak, and how I would enjoy a good chocolate ice cream.
If God would bestow on me a scrap of life, I would dress simply, I would throw myself flat under the sun, exposing not only my body but also my soul.
My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hatred on ice and wait for the sun to come out. With a dream of Van Gogh I would paint on the stars a poem by Benedetti, and a song by Serrat would be my serenade to the moon.
With my tears I would water the roses, to feel the pain of their thorns and the incarnated kiss of their petals...My God, if I only had a scrap of life...
I wouldn't let a single day go by without saying to people I love, that I love them.
I would convince each woman or man that they are my favourites and I would live in love with love.
I would prove to the men how mistaken they are in thinking that they no longer fall in love when they grow old--not knowing that they grow old when they stop falling in love. To a child I would give wings, but I would let him learn how to fly by himself. To the old I would teach that death comes not with old age but with forgetting. I have learned so much from you men....
I have learned that everybody wants to live at the top of the mountain without realizing that true happiness lies in the way we climb the slope.
I have learned that when a newborn first squeezes his father's finger in his tiny fist, he has caught him forever.
I have learned that a man only has the right to look down on another man when it is to help him to stand up. I have learned so many things from you, but in the end most of it will be no use because when they put me inside that suitcase, unfortunately I will be dying.

tot morrison - de teo_05 la: 23/06/2005 10:34:59
(la: Cele mai frumoase poezii)
An American Prayer

Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom?
Have you been borne yet and are you alive?

Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
(Have you forgotten the lessons
of the ancient war?)

We need great golden copulations

The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea

Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
and that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood

Do you know we are ruled by T.V.
The moon is a dry blood beast
Guerilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying

O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to perform our art
and perfect our lives

The moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
We live, we die
and death not ends it
Journey we more into the Nightmare
Cling to life our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts and cocks of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus' groin got filled with green death

(I touched her thigh and death smiled)

We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept
and only one of all the rest
To dance and save us
With the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament

(When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free
a 1000 magicians arise in the land)

Where are the feasts we were promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine (dying on the vine)

resident mockery
give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight and velvet hour
We of arabic pleasure's breed
We of sundome and the night

Give us a creed
To believe
A night of Lust
Give us trust in
The Night

Give of color
hundred hues
a rich Mandala
for me and you

And for your silky
pillowed house
a head, wisdom
and a bed

Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee

We used to believe
in the good old days
We still receive
In little ways

The Things of Kindness
And unsporting brow
Forget and allow

Did you know freedom exists in a school book
Did you know madmen are running our prison
within a jail, within a gaol
within a white free protestant
Maelstrom

We're perched headlong on the edge of boredom
We're reaching for death on the end of a candle
We're trying for something
That's already found us

We can invent Kingdoms of our own
grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
and love we must, in beds of rust

Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams
and muzak, AM, rocks their dreams
No black men's pride to hoist the beams
while mocking angels sift what seems

To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who must
get up in the morning and fight for such

unusable standards
while weeping maidens
show-off penury and pout
ravings for a mad staff

Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South

Cruel bindings
The servants have the power
dog-men and their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors
(and where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache?
or grinding a flower?
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.
Tower. I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed

They are waiting to take us into the severed garden
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
comes death on strange hour
unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings
where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other Kingdom seems by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetable law

I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant family
II

Great screaming Christ
Upsy-daisy
Lazy Mary will get you up
upon a Sunday morning

"The movie will begin in 5 moments"
The mindless Voice announced
"All those unseated, will await
The next show"

We filed slowly, languidly
into the hall. The auditorium
was vast, and silent.
As we seated and were darkened
The Voice continued:

"The program for this evening
is not new. You have seen
This entertainment thru and thru.
You've seen your birth, your
life and death; you might recall
all of the rest -- (did you
have a good world when you
died?) -- enough to base
a movie on?"

An iron chuckle rapped our
minds like a fist.

I'm getting out of here
Where're you going?
To the other side of the morning
Please don't chase the clouds
pagodas, temples

Her * gripped him
like a warm friendly
hand.

"It's all right.
All your friends are here."

When can I meet them?
"After you've eaten"
I'm not hungry
"O, we meant beaten"

Silver stream, silvery scream,
impossible concentration

Here come the comedians
look at them smile
Watch them dance
an indian mile

Look at them gesture
How aplomb
So to gesture everyone

Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks

Plant them
They will grow
Watch them waver so

I'll always be
a word-man
Better than a birdman

But I'll charge
Won't get away
w/out lodging a dollar

Shall I say it again
aloud, you get the point
No food w/out fuel's gain

I'll be, the irish loud
unleashed my beak
at peak of powers

O girl, unleash
your worried comb

O worried mind

Sin in the fallen
Backwoods by the blind

She smells debt
on my new collar

Arrogant prose
Tied in a network of fast quest
Hence the obsession

Its quick to admit
Fats borrowed rhythm
Woman came between them

Women of the world unite
Make the world safe
For a scandalous life

Hee Heee
Cut your throat
Life is a joke

Your wife's in a moat
The same boat
Here comes the goat

Blood Blood Blood Blood
They're making a joke
of our universe
III

Matchbox
Are you more real than me
I'll burn you, and set you free
Wept bitter tears
Excessive courtesy
I won't forget
IV

A hot sick lava flowed up,
Rustling and bubbling.
The paper-face.
Mirror-mask, I love you mirror.

He had been brainwashed for 4 hrs.
The LT. puzzled in again
"ready to talk"
"No sir" -- was all he'd say.
Go back to the gym.
Very peaceful
Meditation

Air base in the desert
looking out venetian blinds
a plane
a desert flower
cool cartoon

The rest of the World
is reckless and dangerous
Look at the
brothels
Stag films
Exploration
V

A ship leaves port
mean horse of another thicket
wishbone of desire
decry the metal fox
#56225 (raspuns la: #56014) comenteaza . modifica . semnaleaza adminului
kate bush - organic acid - de zaraza la: 19/07/2005 23:37:13
(la: Versuri din melodiile voastre preferate...)
ma fascineaza in ultima vreme.

ptr cine e interesat de un download:

http://www.norbry.net/kate-bush/mp3/

He got her drunk very quickly
Holding hands, they found the broom-cupboard
Where he had control as far as the fall
When his hand covered wet hair
She took over among furniture wax
Dust, and the cloying yellow of polishing-cloth
When he was sick, she comforted him


Oh hush, my friend, and sleep
And cuddle to the wind
Sleep on through the waves
That may wet your lover's dream

We have been far through this night long hours
We will go far, tomorrow, out of sight, ooh...


He couldn't do it properly
The disco, the office, the pub,
Had left out those details of delight.
Satisfied, he would collapse out,
Puzzled at why she still squirmed,
Held onto him, tears curling into her mouth
This was something their stories always omitted
That her joy would seem like pain
When he focused after his release.


Do sand and shells and stones
Peep in through your night?
But you should not be hurt
For all will pass with time.

We have been far through this night long hours
We will go far, tomorrow, out of sight, ooh...


In the third week of the relationship
She was tripping on organic acid
Would stop to pick up a rained-out leaf
Would give it tenderly into his hand
Full of dead things before they reached the car

When they drove she sat with mouth open
As though photographed on the impact of a stomach punch
Her right fist gripping the skin of his left leg

Hooking the steering-wheel closer to his heart
He feared her, and slapped out sideways into her face
She entered the cut with her tongue
Gurgling gratitude for the strange taste


Do you fear the dark?
Then hush, and realise
That though the angels never come
Prayers can soothe your mind

We have been far through this night long hour
We will go far, tomorrow, out of sight, ooh...


There was no premonition of the wet Hog's Back
The sportscar slumped, snout into a beech
Their corpses giving the vehicle arms
Petrol and blood at last dripping together
But quick flashes of a planned lunch
Cold red beef, white cloth by a cherrywood fire
Game pie, and for him two pints of colder beer
The winter air tucking under their eyelids
As they spun on the gravel at Clandon
Their hands steaming from quick moisture
The aromatic finger drawn up to his nostril
Dazed after mutual masturbation
They zigzagged into a conservative end


Oh hush, my friend, asleep.
Lipsa de informare sau, mai r - de pegaS la: 01/11/2005 10:45:51
(la: Violenta: un "modus vivendi"?)
Lipsa de informare sau, mai rau, dezinformarea sta la baza ideilor preconcepute iar comoditatea le alimenteaza. Ne creem propriile definitii, ne stabilim propriile repere si ne raportam la acestea dupa propriile principii... asta in masura in care ne rezumam la observare. Cand trecem la critica - fie ea pozitiva sau negativa - e de preferat s-o facem in cunostinta de cauza ceea ce nu e si cazul dv.
Acel cineva are o vaga idee vis-a-vis de Hiphop avand in vedere informatia nu tocmai corecta pe care v-a furnizat-o.
Hiphop-ul ESTE o cultura - as spune chiar cu un potential enorm - manipulata, din pacate, de ceea ce numim showbiz. Cele 4 elemente (5, in acceptiuni mai noi) sunt MCing sau Rapping (partea vocala), DJing (tehnica bazata pe scratching, sampling & mixing ce asigura fondul sonor alaturi de compozitii proprii), Graffiti si B-Boying (Breakdance).. cea de-a 5-a ar fi Beatboxing (studiul si aplicarea muzicii facute cu ajutorul partilor corpului).
Originile genului si variile sale aspecte sunt mult prea complexe pt. a le putea expune aici - cei interesati pot arunca o privire la http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapping - la fel ca si raspunsul la intrebarea ta. Nu putem vorbi de un raspuns concret - Hiphop-ul este, ca de altfel orice manifestare artistica, o forma de exprimare libera (cu tot ce implica aceasta). Poate fi contra violentei, o poate promova sau poate fi parte neutra. Contrar ideii incetatenite conform careia Hiphop-ul trateaza exclusiv probleme sociale exista destule exemple in care personalul, abstractul, liricul primeaza partea muzicala fiind, de asemenea, in ton cu textul.
Cine are rabdare sa citeasca s-o faca, cine nu sa lase balta subiectul...

"I can recite the grass on the hill and memorize the moon
I know the cloudforms of love by heart
And have brought tears to the eye of a storm
And my memory banks vaults of forests and amazon river banks
And i've screamed them into sunsets that echo in earthquakes
Shadows have been my spotlight
As I monologue the night
And dialogue with days
Soliloquies of wind and breeze applauded by sun rays
We put language in zoos to observe caged thought (...)"
Saul Williams - Wine

"I played connect the dots with your beauty marks
And I ended up with picture perfect sheet music
I read your musical notes with a composer's eyes
And heard out song for the first time
My spine is still tingling, mental images of your fine tune
Is what I've been nodding my head to lately
Every now and then you can catch me humming
Your nudity under my heavy breath
I heavily suggest you resurrect
Your ancient neglected dust collector
If you distrust the distance in my seldom plucked heart strings
Sit stripped before your full length
Perform your reflection backwards
Maybe then you will understand the rhythm in my movement
Listen when the news is sent
Extend when the rules are bent
I'll be waiting to take your leave
Make me a victim of your two step
Make me an apprentice of your body parts
Teach me to dance to your beauty marks
I'm stepping on toes here and I don't care
It's hopeless, it's hopeless
It's hopelessness holding this openess to blow a kiss
So close your lips but don't get pissed
And throw a fist at this vocalist
I'm not emotionless, in fact I broke my wrist
When I wrote the list of all those I miss
This is my poker face, Mister Feel Nothing"
Sage Francis - Hopeless

"(...)There's smoke in my iris
But I painted a sunny day on the insides of my eyelids
So I'm ready now (What you ready for?)
I'm ready for life in this city
And my wings have grown almost enough to lift me
I'm a dinosaur with Jones Beach in my hourglass
Passing the time with serial killer coloringbooks and bags of marbles
Don't tell me you ain't the droid that held the match to the charcoals
Don't tell me Lucifer and God don't carpool
(This is our school)
I'm not trying to graduate to life at the curse on the lounge barstool
Head in a jar on the desk, feet dangling in a shark pool
(Man please) Man please
My name stands for my being
And my being stands for the woman who stood
And braved the storm could raise this evening
(Brother sun, sister moon, mother beautiful)
Yeah middle sibling suitable but far from son of excellence
(...) And I ain't getting any younger
My knuckles wear their bruises well
I've yet to lose that hunger
But only time can tell
Prodigal Son with a prodigal wish to sew that prodigal stitch
And crucify bigot voodoo doll on two popsicle sticks
See your name is Ambiguity
My name is something hands can't hold
But hearts part ocean scapes just to watch the starlet unfold (...)"
Aesop Rock - Battery

Si exemplele pot continua...
#83456 (raspuns la: #79824) comenteaza . modifica . semnaleaza adminului
citeste te rog - de zana2000 la: 14/06/2007 13:23:22
(la: Pana unde merge recunostinta fata de parinti?)
in aceeasi situatie sunt si eu.
Te inteleg foarte bine.
DEsi mi-ar placea mai mult sa vb pe mess pentru ca ma simt mai bine,iti spun sa iti asculti inima.
Eu de exemplu sunt romanca,iar el tigan.Si el e mai mic ca mine cu vreo 3 ani.Dar varsta n-a fost o problema mai ales cand el pare mai mare ca mine,iar eu mai mica ca el.M-am intalnit cu el pe ascuns in tot acest timp,ei au aflat eu am luat bataie rau de tot de f multe ori,am fost pedepsita,multe altele,dar n-am renuntat la el.Acum va trebui sa facem ceva pentru a pune capat relatiei pe ascuns si sa ne vedem pe fata.Intelegi?
Noi luptam in fiecare zi ;e foarte greu cand nu poti fi cu el cand ai nevoie macar de un cuvatn ,o imbratisare,un zambet pentru a te simti mai bine.E greu cand il vezi in fiecare zi si nu poti macar sa te uiti in chii lui(si acest lucru mi-a fist interzis),,cand trebuie sa il consideri un strain.Te inteleg f bine de aceea te rog sa iti asculti inima,dar daor atunci cand il cunosti f bine pe iubitul tau,sau mai bine zis,poti baga mana in foc ca te iubeste ,atunci nu mai asculta pe nimeni si increde=te in fortele tale si spune-ti ca iubirea adevarata castiga intotdeauna.ID-ul meu este:georgiana_zana2000.Vorbim pe mes daca vrei,nu stiu varsta ta,sa iti pot spune ma imulte
dar pentru orice sfat vb pe net. ai grija de tine
spider - de motanelul la: 18/03/2008 09:03:56
(la: Admin si Daniel)
depistarea clonelor in cazul nostru nu cred ca e necesar sa fie la fel de riguroasa ca un proces pentru "fist degree murder" e suficienta expunerea celor evidente

#294153 (raspuns la: #294144) comenteaza . modifica . semnaleaza adminului
monte_or - de cher la: 09/10/2008 19:33:06
(la: concurs Chippendales-Cafenea 2008)
Mai, bata-te sa te bata!
Asta esti tu ? Si eu care te credeam un puisor ! Uite cum te inseala internetu' !
Da' esti barosan draga, ai iaht, ai si ce manca...Ai si ce bea...
Si eu te credeam un coate goale, un fiste-cine! Un salariat mic si neinsemnat! Da' tu, barosan !
#349495 (raspuns la: #349488) comenteaza . modifica . semnaleaza adminului
pane - de om la: 06/07/2009 16:51:46
(la: Arheologie urbana)
fisti, cacao, vaniiil :)))



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