goandgo's favorite articles

I'm a writer of little writing so I don't tire you with repetitions days follow one another and nights and tides as well we look to the full moon the sunligh the dark night and the tide line on the sand as it was for the first time if the world doesn't get tired why do we get older?! sou escritor de pouca escrita para não vos cansar com repetições os dias sucedem-se iguais e também nas noites e as maré olhamos para a lua cheia a luz do sol a noite escura e a linha de maré…

My apologies for not being around much at the moment. We have had some bad news, my husband has been diagnosed with cancer. To say the least, our lives are now turned upside down. I know some of my friends on here have been, and are going through the same thing. I will pop in as and when I can, meanwhile please bear with me. Keep well everyone, much love June xx

My friends not all motionless is silence nor the night solitude while we watch the shooting stars and hear the most crystalline waters. Meus amigos nem toda a quietude é silêncio nem a noite solidão enquanto vemos estrelas cadentes e ouvimos as mais cristalinas águas. by Armando TABORDA, 2015 (post…

Turning the corner I can see a tree a running over a broken bus at the stop a reflected face at the shop window the temptation of a pretty woman legs a face again yes of windy hair as if it was so fast as imagination. Ao virar da esquina posso ver uma árvore um atropelamento um autocarro avariado na paragem um rosto reflectido na montra a tentação das pernas duma bela mulher um rosto de novo sim de cabelo ao vento como se fosse tão rápido como a im…

Expectant in the middle of the cornfield I feel myself hideous scarecrow shaken by the wind I see nothing around me so many birds fly in circular flight and perch on the mature cobs they are fattening due to my inability to scare them two more brave peck in my empty eye sockets the water that humidifies their feathers suddenly in my blindness I see you firstly I think you are the sun surf on the corn sea afterward I just understand the wind decided to walk upon that vibration as…

Seated on the coach the ideas rapidly get inebriated of sleep and fall asleep rocked by the background noise of the TV set noticing a difficult world to face with open eyes because it's more and more black and over warmed by nightmares retained at the highest atmosphere layer which will generate not contained storms by prevention warning and combat systems and available technologies either digital or analogical will be totally useless because the seated man on the coach dreams destruction…

The inclined slope is brief and fleeting in its declivity vertical trees at the background horizon insert themselves into the terrain drawing angles. A tired glance towards origin into the womb to the parched and paltry land where cattle flies in the air are almost clever beings because they insinuate into the eyes and the honey of our ears with the acumen of whom dives into waters and the indifference…

A-dos-Ruivos non-amazing weekend at the no feast village nor rockets excitement I rest at the porch surrounded by flowers wind golden dust heat of June cumulus clouds over the horizon useless flying insects as books from Fernando Pessoa and all his heteronymous because disquiet isn't a literary fallacy but a permanent mind state even if the circumstantial peace and the scent of fields innebriate me. A-dos-Ruivos fim de semana nada alucinante na…

I write under the dense and sensual caress of the American sun half-laying down in the park where too many and concise birds perch and depart for a circular destiny. Because I love you I know my skin cools down in contact with your absence as God comes by daybreak without disclosing Himself. Why solitude saddens us while we still fall in love with the social fiction we live and the ludicrous of life and the impossible adventure suddenly possible and sound and light and all that light…

Someone tells me I can be happy if I don't look for happiness in the corners of the city where I live in the sea flooding into my eyes in the constellation's twinkling of my night in the new moon darkness of dream and if I let time go by indifferently as it was nothing and in fact it isn't doesn't exist it's an invention to justify birth and death. To be happy maybe someone tells me I can be happy if I want. Alguém me diz que posso ser feliz se…

because the bastard you are begins to curse soon in morning the opal light that comes in through the window and the rain falling in circles on the avenue's asphalt it doesn't mean that there is no reason to smile to life just now that you are editing this bit of text into the Internet that will be read by other mates older and younger than you so that your conscience reappear and you lose the will to throw the dog out the window to cut the neck of the parakeet or to shoot at the neighboring…

Poetry is the subtitle of our life's movie or maybe not it should be the proper life if we so decide or maybe not but it will certainly be the last bright flame fading away into the voracious death. A poesia é a legenda do filme da nossa vida ou talvez não seria a própria vida se assim o desejássemos ou talvez não mas por certo será a última luz intensa a apagar-se na voracidade da morte. by Armando TABORDA, 2012 (post 1st edition, 2015; 2nd editio…

I REPEAT UNTIL ETERNITY THAT LIGHT IS SO USEFUL AND PERCEPTIBLE AS DARKNESS AND LIFE BETWEEN ONE AND ANOTHER IS A SIMPLE FUGITIVE REFLECTION THAT NOBODY KNOWNS WHERE IT COMES OR GOES NOT EVEN IF THE WORLD EXISTS OR IS DREAMED BY GOD REPITO ATÉ À ETERNIDADE QUE A LUZ É TÃO ÚTIL E PERCEPTÍVEL COMO A ESCURIDÃO E A VIDA ENTRE UMA E OUTRA UM SIMPLES E FUGAZ RAFLEXO QUE NINGUÉM SABE DE ONDE VEM NEM PARA ONDE VAI NEM SEQUER SE O MUNDO EXISTE OU É SONHADO POR DEUS by Armando TABORDA…

MENU OF THE DAY The news in the morning paper are the whole day repeated on TV. War famine genocide and pollution economical crimes drugs pedophilia and prostitution disasters accidents and namely corruption are eaten at lunch during the afternoon news…

The stage of life is there it's yours you can dance sing howl recite a poem carry out a comedy drama tragicomedy cry laugh or you can just keep sitting in the audience to envy the other's performance O palco da vida está ali é teu podes dançar cantar uivar recitar um poema encenar um drama comédia tragicomédia chorar rir ou podes simplesmente continuar sentado na plateia a invejar o espectáculo dos outros by Armando TABORDA, 2015 (post 1st edi…

DAYBREAK You are the daybreak I breath. At daybreak a dewdrop escaping from night slips from my face to yours. (to read the original Portuguese version click on the figure) by Armando TABORDA, in monthly magazine "Azimute", edited by the Portuguese Army Infantry School, 1964 (post 1st edition, 2010; 2nd edition, 2017; 3rd edition, 2021)

Painful reflections on fire the sky is an all time martyr in the landscape' silence over the horizon and our lifted heads saying a pray nobody hear asking the miracle everybody see. Reflexos pungentes ardentes o céu é mártir todos os dias no silêncio da paisagem sobre o horizonte e nossas cabeças erguidas rezando orações que ninguém ouve pedindo o milagre que todos vemos.…

PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS PALAVRAS WORDS MOTS Gradually I am tired from the senses flow the empty heart fills my memory written more and more words are mere burni…

BANQUET In Fatherland's anniversary the banquet is served tepid by ladies very well dressed frigid and plump everybody clamps under a Requiem's rhythm of plates glasses cutlery and candlesticks played to commend the souls of the national poets dead or alive. (to read the original Portuguese version of these texts please click on the above image) BELCH…

I recover the remaining joy of the past days familiar and repeated embrace I hear the Keith Jarrett music at the Blue Note themes' variations written on the stave melancholy's impromptus for future days. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the picture) by Armando TABORDA, in "Sinfonia em Dor Menor" (illustrated by Carlos Alexandre), Edição da Escola de Mar, 2007…