Uma moreia, okay! Não é um pão de cevada. Atenção!
A vida é como a gema de um ovo estrelado – perfeita; até se começar a mergulhar o pão.
Next item is an autopsy to a poem from the book “The Gloomy Seahorse” by Rhys Hughes.
Why does the poet ask me to go with him to Indonesia? He has no friends and that is why he needs me? Is he afraid to go alone? If he is afraid, is this a reflection of a childhood trauma? An unresolved Oedipus complex? I’m sorry, but I have to refuse. I do not like Indonesia in February and I get sick just from thinking about the Komodo Dragons.
Again the poet reveals that he values his dental hygiene. We must take a toothbrush, and bath salts! Clearly he’s an addict in personal hygiene which reveals an unresolved Oedipus complex. I could argue that even if I go to Indonesia I will only take the toothbrush, but never the bath salts. I like showering.
The poet reveals that we will not pass beyond Borneo!! If so, why ask me to go with him to Indonesia if he doesn’t have enough money for a full ticket? He reveals that he is a liar with this fake invitation. He tries to blame the toaster. We know that it is never the toaster’s guilt, but always the butler’s. This is an unresolved Oedipus complex.
He states that picnics with blueberry jam in the jungle are uncommon. This sentence shows a disturbing innocence mind, because we never do picnics in the jungle. This demonstrates that the poet did not go far away from home in his childhood. This reveals an unresolved Oedipus complex.
Then he says that we won’t get as far as Java? For the love of God he could decide once and for all. Why did he make a poem without the minimum knowledge of geography. This reveals an unsolved Oedipus complex. He even poses the hypothesis to swim in the sea, but only if the water isn’t cold – he lives in Swansea and he has problems with the cold?
Then I discovered that the poet is a voyeur. His neighbor Polo went shopping and did a good bargain, and that is the envy of our poet who covets his brown bread and jam.
With all this I end up not understanding the reference to Xanadu. The poet could be more specific. We’ll have breakfast in Xanadu or eat Xanadu? And if the latter hypothesis, is Xanadu the jam’s brand? The poet really needs a compass.
sausage and holy water.
Garlic bread that have been devastated. In Barcelos, of course!
são regularmente gastos na produção e manutenção deste blog uns bons pedaços de caldo, suaves e frutadas cervejas.
my goal is to keep me satisfied!
porta VIII is my personal site. Grab a beer and sit tight.
Are you comfortable? Take a look around to the new stuff and adventure trough the archives. Cá me podem encontrar a percorrer o mesmo caminho; a arrotar bom dia, boa tarde, boa noite, e por vezes um até já.