segunda-feira, março 30, 2009
A man in a raft
A man in a raft. Alone in the sea.
No land on sight. Nothing...
...but water to see.
Drifting, drifting, along with the tide
Where does she takes him?
He stopped care a long time.

There's a hook and a line
in the raft he don't sail.
And a bucket for water
Whenever it rains.
There's also a paddle
he used for a few days.

Now the fish hardly bites.
He gets just enough to get by.
There's no rain for two weeks
And the bucket gets dry.
And at the end of the ship
The paddle sleeps tight

He then turns to heavens.
His eyes on the sky.
He ask for water and food
And a shore to wreck by.
Any shore to wreck by.
But the clouds are as silent and useless
As the paddle behind.

He doesn't pray anymore.
He just refuses to die.
So he do whatever he must to survive.
He eat the raw fish
That get hooked on the line
And he drink the hard water
That beneath the raft rides.
And whenever the paddle is caught on his glimpse
He grinds a dreadful smile.

For the paddle, you see,
Is nothing to him but a joke.
A real sadistic mockery.
For what use has a paddle
When you don’t know where you go?
Why should you bother to paddle
If you don’t know where to row?
So he choose not to paddle
And just go with the flow.
Not because he don’t know how…
…Just because he don’t know.
posted by Raimundo @ segunda-feira, março 30, 2009  
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Nome: Raimundo
Morada: Algures em algum sítio, bem no meio de..., Portugal
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Blog aberto a fumadores. E não... não temos as dimensões estipuladas por lei para poder ter um espaço para fumadores. E como estamos num país de chibos, já estou mesmo a ver: um dia destes há uma denúncia anónima e aparecem-me aí uns estupores da ASAE para fechar o tasco!

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