poesia nas ruas

A poesia não está nas olheiras imorais de Ofélia nem no jardim dos lilases.

A poesia está na vida,nas artérias imensas cheias de gente em todos os sentidos,

nos ascensores constantes,na bicha de automóveis rápidos de todos os feitios e de todas as cores,

nas máquinas da fábrica e nos operários da fábrica e no fumo da fábrica.

A poesia está no grito do rapaz apregoando jornais, no vaivém de milhões de pessoas conversando ou prague jando ou rindo.

Está no riso da loira da tabacaria,vendendo um maço de tabaco e uma caixa de fósforos.

Está nos pulmões de aço cortando o espaço e o mar. A poesia está na doca,

nos braços negros dos carregadores de carvão,no beijo que se trocou no minuto entre o trabalho e o jantar

— e só durou esse minuto.A poesia está em tudo quanto vive, em todo o movimento,

nas rodas do comboio a caminho, a caminho, a caminho de terras sempre mais longe,

nas mãos sem luvas que se estendem para seios sem véus,na angústia da vida.

A poesia está na luta dos homens,está nos olhos abertos para amanhã.

Mário Dionísio

lisboa, 2013

2

Impossível não cair num dos mais banais clichês ao narrar poeticamente a própria experiência num ambiente urbano marcante e rico de história. Sentimo-nos como se fossemos os únicos a viajar, protagonistas de um cenário que, na realidade, antes de nós, viu passar personalidades mais interessantes. A seguinte coleção fotográfica é incompleta, desordenada e não original. Não é uma tentativa de guia turístico. Quem escreve não é o autor das poesias, a autora das páginas a

seguir é Lisboa. Além do simples fascínio das cidades decadentes ela fala; fala em versos sem ninguém escutar. Lisboa cheira poesia. Manifesta-se através dos seus cenários da forma mais honesta. Sem nenhuma pretensão as imagens convidam a escutar a cidade revelando as suas poesias para quem ainda não as sentiu. A poesia nas ruas pede uma atenção subtil, aquela que é preciso para encontrar as pequenas coisas, onde está a verdadeira essência da beleza.

38.42,-9.11

4

Impossible not to fall into one of the most banal clichés narratingin, in a poetic way, oneself experience in a noteworthy and rich of history urban set. As if we were the only ones travelling, protagonists of a scenario that, actually, before us, has seen pass more interesting personalities. The following photographic collection is incomplete, disorganized and not original. It is not an attempt of a tour guide. Who writes is not the author of the poetry, the author of the

following pages is Lisbon. Besides the simple charm of decaying cities it speaks; speaks in verse without anyone listening. Lisbon smells poetry. Manifested through its scenarios in the most honest way. Without any pretence the images invite to listen to the city revealing their poems for those who have not felt them yet. Poetry in the streets calls for a subtle attention, that one that takes to find the little things, where lies the true essence of beauty.

38.715898,-9.12119

6

38.71296,-9.144233

8

38.684774,-9.158714

10

38.713518,-9.141671

12

38.716572,-9.120466

14

38.571471,-7.906763

16

38.710981,-9.144409

18

38.712112,-9.139501

20

38.709427,-9.132081

22

38.713012,-9.140896

24

38.717913,-9.136658

26

38.71514,-9.160822

28

38.705833,-9.145367

30

38.713033,-9.141125

32

38.709156,-9.135539

34

38.716103,-9.136526

36

38.715755,-9.136644

38

38.740135,-9.146118

40

38.719386,-9.132696

42

38.711224,-9.134367

44

38.714964,-9.14686

46

38.715468,-9.121589

48

38.571471,-7.154668

50

38.725216,-9.135966

52

38.712888,-9.146346

54

38.712545,-9.127388

56

38.710209,-9.139879

58

38.74871,-9.17191

60

38.710543,-9.139262

62

38.715324,-9.134971

64

38.713028,-9.161664

66

38.709594,-9.131942

68

38.723444,-9.135338

70

38.715454,-9.143747

72

38.715699,-9.136465

74

38.714921,-9.135248

76

38.726677,-9.141611

78

38.721713,-9.141343

80

38.725216,-9.135941

82

38.725216,-9.135941

84

38.709717,-9.138274

86

38.726315,-9.14718

88

38.701521,-9.17816

90

38.714527,-9.148113

92

38.715443,-9.13792438.715443,-9.137924

94

38.712231,-9.127552

96

38.711927,-9.146402

98

38.727271,-9.147936

100

38.70546,-9.144983

102

38.722642,-9.145753

104

38.739984,-9.146096

106

38.713047,-9.145126

108

38.713518,-9.141812

110

38.714974,-9.146856

112

38.714964,-9.14686

114

38.716354,-9.120658

116

- poetry is in the fight of men, is in the open eyes for tomorrow6 poetry on the streets10 who falls on his head stands up 12 blank walls dumb people 14 freedom lives when state dies 16 until when? 18 are you going to keep staring? 20 and what about when you haven’t anything to eat? 24 what is missing is ... 26 perfect incompleted 28 people could live here 30 one night can change the rest of the days of your life 34 we we bring a new world in our hearts 36 you are the Lisbon I love! Miss you ...

- poetry is in the fight of men, is in the open eyes for tomorrow6 poetry on the streets10 who falls on his head stands up 12 blank walls dumb people 14 freedom lives when state dies 16 until when? 18 are you going to keep staring? 20 and what about when you haven’t anything to eat? 24 what is missing is ... 26 perfect incompleted 28 people could live here 30 one night can change the rest of the days of your life 34 we we bring a new world in our hearts 36 you are the Lisbon I love! Miss you ...

40 who can’t swim dives in 42 have a good trip. Lisbon waits for you44 open your eyes46 dictatorship is a fact, revolution is a right48 this way | station entrance50 I want to see you happy52 every system has a blind spot54 love needs to be reinvented | turn it on56 our dreams do not fit in your world58 we are the place we miss60 peace among people because war is among classes62 eternal innocence66 mass distraction weapon | cultural impotence68 my love is hyperbolic

70 to violence, thousand kisses72 we don’t see things how they are but how we are74 freedom is men’s homeland78 I did nothing but dream80 tag a selfish trick82 blank walls blind people | privatize the [whore who had you]84 if rich people are guilty for poverty aren’t poor people guilty for wealth? 88 it’s so little that makes me stay but it takes me too much to leave92 go or crack96 walk to grow up100 I don’t belive in love104 a friend in each corner106 the melody that you hear is the silence of the wall you see. Listen!108 I want to be happy

70 to violence, thousand kisses72 we don’t see things how they are but how we are74 freedom is men’s homeland78 I did nothing but dream80 tag a selfish trick82 blank walls blind people | privatize the [whore who had you]84 if rich people are guilty for poverty aren’t poor people guilty for wealth? 88 it’s so little that makes me stay but it takes me too much to leave92 go or crack96 walk to grow up100 I don’t belive in love104 a friend in each corner106 the melody that you hear is the silence of the wall you see. Listen!108 I want to be happy

112 revolution | cycling hurts the ass114 sailing trough unknown seas, we will reach known freedoms. this is the time, Portugal. 25th April forever- the end is a good beginning

The public needs art, and it is the responsibility of a “self-proclaimed artist” to realize the public needs art, and not

to make bourgeois art for a few and ignore the masses...If the public is afraid of art, should we [artists] be afraid of

what we have done to make the public afraid of art?

- Keith Haring, journal entry, October 14, 1978

daiane bulgarelliellen dalago ristowgabriele donadagiuliana fimmanòtany vazzana