Maria Henriques
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MAR**

WEBRINGS AND WORKS







Friday, December 03, 2004
..........................................................................

Posted at 08:07 am by Maria Henriques
Comment (1)  

Thursday, December 02, 2004
Heaven's Heart...........Mar04.............................



Did you ever touched
that simple color
made with the sun and the sea
tones and forms
dancing together with those
blues
gorgeous greens
into a simphony of loving glories?

Did you ever felt your dreams
touching the sand
knowing that other spirits
have been there walking
with the water of the ocean
inside their hands
like a warm peaceful smile
dancing and laughing?

If you saw all that simplicity
with all that beauty touching
your soul and mind,
then you know the Universal Secret
and you are really prepared
to be the child feeling life
and that simple way of beeing
touched by God's eyes and Angel's heart.




Posted at 05:05 pm by Maria Henriques
Comments (5)  

Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Ending me.............................................Maria**04



Your smile
is like a plant
growing green feelings
inside my world;
I would love to
see you
going out
of my dreams
because your green
smile is killing me.
In another hand
your touch makes me
think
about some other colors,
some blues shinning
above,
some yellows touching
some rosed lovers...
What can I do about you and your form
of growing
like a plant
inside my soul
devouring all
my inner places....
I would love
to see you becoming
a different tone;
a yellow perhaps touching some other forms;
but you don't
and I must live
with you inside my home
showing me that
green growing form
of touch.
What a misery
to be forced to live
with your green growing
plant inside my
form of life.

Posted at 04:39 pm by Maria Henriques
 

Saturday, November 06, 2004
A modest Tribute to Theo



A man who dies
is a man who dies
but we can see an hero
looking the way he falls.
A life that ends
it's a life touching the end
of road,
but it can be a diamond
shinning all the way home;
life and death,
moments forever lost in time,
but an hero it's an hero
keeping the candle
of peace into his heart.
You pure artist dead
in that minute
of sadness;
shadows
hate,
all those feelings
forever lost of Paradise.
But you will live forever
with your hands clean
of blood
saying -goodbye,
until a next day-with love.



Posted at 05:34 am by Maria Henriques
 

The assassination of Theo Van Gogh



About this last sad news of the assassination of Mr.Theo van Gogh.
I believe that we must speak about all the things we believe in.
And if we have strong opinions and points of view no one has the right of tell us to stop with violence.
To kill a person (any person)just because we don't agree with is demonstration of different thoughts is an inferior and sad demonstration of inhumanity.
Also its the demontration of lack of the concept of democracy.And democracy ,even if not perfect ;is the best way humans found to live with respect for ideas freedom and life.

Mr.Theo van Gogh was an artist.Every artist deserves respect from all the fellows Humans . To kill an artist just because he has spoken about things many would love the hide it's a proof of fear.
All the sistems based on fear are injust and violent.
This last assassination is the proof of that.
Mr.Theo van Gogh's soon is a kid now.A kid who is suffering that violent act of somebody with an irresponsible point of view
Of somebody with no human spirit;but he has all the reasons to believe on his father as a strong man with respect for life and for democratic rigths for all.
He has all the reasons to be proud of the father he had!

An artist has been killed in his way to the work,when he was driving his bicycle...... It says it all.

******************************************************************************* ************************************************************************************

Van Gogh was born in The Hague. His great-grandfather was art-dealer Theo van Gogh, brother of the famous Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh. After dropping out of law school he became a stage manager. He debuted as a director with the movie Luger (1981). He received a Gouden Kalf ("Golden Calf", the Dutch equivalent of the Oscar) for Blind Date (1996) and In het belang van de staat ("In the Interest of the State", 1997). As an actor he appeared in the production De noorderlingen ("The Northerners", 1992). After that, he worked for television and wrote provocative columns for Metro and other newspapers.

His last book (2003) was Allah weet het beter ("Allah Knows Best") in which he - in his typical cynical, mocking tone - presented his views on Islam. He was a well-known critic of Islam, especially after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. He supported the nomination of liberal, Somalian-born female politician Ayaan Hirsi Ali for Dutch parliament. As of 2004, she is a Member of Parliament for the Liberal Party (VVD).

Together with Hirsi Ali, van Gogh created the 10-minute movie Submission. The film is about violence against women in Islamic societies, and focuses especially on female circumcision. It shows four abused women, naked under see-through dresses with Qur'an texts in Arabic, unfavourable to women, painted on their bodies. After the movie was released, both van Gogh and Hirsi Ali received death threats. Van Gogh did not take these very seriously and refused any protection.

Van Gogh was a member of the Dutch republican society Republikeins Genootschap (anti-monarchic).


Works


Publications
Van Gogh contributed to various newspapers and magazines, often leaving these jobs after a quarrel.

He published the following books:

* Engel ("Angel", 1990)
* Er gebeurt nooit iets ("Nothing Ever Happens", 1993)
* Sla ik mijn vrouw wel hard genoeg? ("Do I Beat My Wife Hard Enough?", 1996)
* Allah weet het beter ("Allah Knows Best", 2003)


Filmography

* Luger (1982)
* Een dagje naar het strand ("A Day at the Beach", 1984)
* Charley (1986)
* Terug naar Oegstgeest ("Back to Oegstgeest", 1987)
* Loos ("Wild", 1989)
* Vals licht ("False Light", 1993)
* Ilse verandert de geschiedenis ("Ilse Changes History", 1993)
* 06 (1994)
* Reunie ("Reunion", 1994)
* Eva (1994)
* Een galerij: De wanhoop van de sirene ("A Gallery: The Despair of the Siren", 1994)
* De Eenzame Oorlog Van Koos Tak ("Koos Tak's Lonely War", 1995)
* Blind Date (1996)
* Hoe ik mijn moeder vermoordde ("How I Killed My Mother", 1996)
* In het belang van de staat ("In the Interest of the State", 1997)
* Au ("Ouch", 1997)
* De Pijnbank ("The Torture Bench", 1998)
* Baby Blue (2001)
* De nacht van Aalbers ("Aalbers's Night", 2001)
* Najib en Julia (2002)
* Interview (2003)
* Zien ("Seeing", 2004)
* Submission (2004)
* Cool (2004)
* 0605 (planned for release in 2004)
* Medea (planned for release in 2005)
* (Bad (unfinished; production was planned for 2005))

Death
The crime scene with the dead body of Van Gogh covered by a blanket.

Van Gogh was murdered in the early morning of Tuesday November 2, 2004, in Amsterdam in front of the Amsterdam East borough office (stadsdeelkantoor) on the corner of the Linnaeusstraat and Tweede Oosterparkstraat streets. He was shot with seven bullets and died on the spot. His throat was slit, and he was then stabbed in the chest. Two knives were left inplanted in his torso, one pinning a 5 page note to his body. The note threatened Western governments, Jews and Hirsi Ali who went into hiding. The alleged killer Mohammed B, a 26-year-old man of Dutch and Moroccan nationalities, was apprehended by the police after being shot in the leg. Bouyeri is a Muslim extremist with alleged terrorist ties. In the Dutch media the suspect is called Mohammed B., since it is common practice in The Netherlands to abbreviate the surnames of crime suspects in order to protect their privacy. He is charges with attempted murder of a police officer and bystander, illegal possession of a firearm, and conspiring to murder others, including Hirsi Ali.

Until his death Van Gogh was working on a movie (0605) about the murder of Dutch politician Pim Fortuyn. The film is set for premiere on December 15, 2004 on the internet through a Dutch ISP, who also financed the movie.

Posted at 05:25 am by Maria Henriques
 

Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Rythm



Nothing like a
good Jazz into the nigth
to feel
the rythm of life;
stars
blues
dark
everything above.

And me
with him
singing
dancing all the way
around.Bodiess moving
trough the music.
Touching the insanity
playing with the spirit of love.





Posted at 06:48 pm by Maria Henriques
 

Poetry.................................Maria04.................




I do belive
in poetry,
all those spaces
of music
where words can
bring us
inside a world of ours.

What can a poem
do wrong
in people's life?
Can a poem destroy,
or hurt
or in any way
create pain and suffering?

Can a poem kill
a beautiful existence
as a gun
a knife
or some really acid
syllabes into a dark
mouth?

I do believe
in those kind forms
of expression
that touch our
spirit with leafs
of soft
colours.

So what
if a poem can kill?
I do belive in poetry
and that is my
bright
and peaceful style
of life.

Posted at 11:52 am by Maria Henriques
 

Raining..........................................................Maria04




It's raing this morning,
the clouds are grey and dark
and above the sky
not even a little piece of sun
is floating.
Boats are waiting,
stoped in the bay
and people walks fast
under dancing umbrellas.
We can only ear the rain
and some child crying
(we cannot know why...)
Maybe her mother
beat her
or maybe she doesn't like
the sounds of water falling.
It's raining
and i'm here quite alone
wondering
if love can survive to this day
where temperatures
are falling too;
like if the heart of Summer
was dying.








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Posted at 10:49 am by Maria Henriques
 

..........................................................................

Posted at 10:26 am by Maria Henriques
 

Chemicals.........................................Maria04




I'm here
remembering
my last class
of chemistry.
In those days childs
were really less
complicated,
we just didn't showed up
so much knowledge
about neutrons,
atoms
and all that crap of
learning...
Maybe our hearts were
pure,
or maybe
we just were
feeling
the gold
of those ancient
memories
where everything
was a mistery.

Posted at 08:34 am by Maria Henriques
 

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DARKTHRONE**



MACDERMOTT



Anel de Poesia
FORUM II

FORUM**

EVITA;)*



A Lawrence Durrel e a Alexandria


ao Herberto Helder




Os tempos estão definitivamente
dificeis,
Laurence a Laurence
todos os poetas desaparecem
na curvatura
de um circulo de mortes.
E como se fossem de pó
desaparecem,
ora montados em motocicletas
como arcanjos
ora levantados ás nuvens
em ondas cor de rosa
onde os cigarros voam,
perdidas pelo espaço. Pedra a pedra,
todas as casas poéticas caem
cortadas pelo meio
onde empreiteiros
de visões com cifrões espreitam;
e em lugar das palavras
onde habitavam gnomos,
jovens casais promitentes
prometer-se-ão acordos mútuos
em notas de crédito
onde não conseguirá subsistir
a música.
E longínquos, os poetas,
aqueles que Lawrence a Lawrence
escolheram aquelas estradas
de onde nem sempre se volta
hão-de acenar com as mãos
sagradas
pela queimadura genuína das letras
E ficarão para nós,
( esta geração de habitantes
de centros comerciais
e de pequenas lojas de “ fait divers “)
como Deus ficou
para Moisés;Sarças ardentes,
Puríssimas
chamas de fogo
Altíssimas labaredas de espirito
a indicar-nos caminhos
que não mais veremos
perdidos como estamos
na mudança de tempos.
E as teias de aranha,
os grafitis que cercam
os muros da tua casa
como serpentes verdes, enrolam-se
nas paredes como plantas
que fossem outrora vivas.
E a tua casa
onde todos os silêncios remexem,
sussurra
como se uma nota ainda
de cor a inspirasse
e as tuas palavras
habitassem ainda
a sua cercadura de névoa.
Porém,ao cume do entardecer
contempla-a a morte
e o norte desfaz-se
de encontro as paredes
altas de uma montanha
onde detritos enormes
apagam os doces
perfumes subtis do Mareotis
-em certas partes do mundo,
a vida conduz-nos sempre á morte. -
Quanto ao teu nome, meu amigo
foi a única coisa varrida
daquele canto onde
Lawrence a Lawrence
desaparecem a pouco e pouco
os poetas
montados nas suas melancólicas
motocicletas
de luz.

E no Tejo viaja-se de barco
como suponho, se viaja ainda
de barco no Mareotis;
as pessoas passeiam-se a beira do rio
exactamente
como se passeiam lá,
e também como na Baixa, onde a luz
se mistura com a água
existem poetas que murmuram
palavras encantadas
na esperança do tal milagre
da transmutação dos metais em ouro.
Existem poetas em todas as cidades
existem poetas cristãos
e poetas árabes
e até mesmo para espanto
de certas criaturas
poetas negros e judeus.
Porque a poesia é contra todos
e não tem cores especiais
como dizia o outro.
E ali no Tejo, ao porto
como lá, no tal Mareotis
onde a luz toca nas areias
para lhes dar os brilhos diamantinos,
existem os tais seres
que como os meninos
brincam e jogam
eu juro ! –
com as palavras que dão a
cor a toda a realidade.

E se o Pessoa e o Cesário
se tivessem encontrado com o Kavafis
que tal não teria sido
o jogo á bola
com as palavras a saltitarem
de cabeça para cabeça
até ao extraordinário golo vaporoso
nas redes de Deus,

e lá,
naquela que é para mim
a longínqua Alexandria
ali,naquela que é hoje para mim
a tão longínqua Lisboa,
á beira
dos seus rios
posso imaginá-los, aos poetas
a passearam devagar pelas ruelas
iluminadas pelo som regular
do que sonham
e consola-me neste isolamento
o poder de imaginar
que neste mesmo instante
se viaja de barco no Tejo
como imagino
se viaja de barco no Mareotis
e que,
Lawrence a Lawrence
apesar destes modernos tempos
da reanimação da construção civil
ficará
apesar de tudo
a Presença Real da tua vida
nos livros
que escreveste,
para dizer adeus.




Copyrigth@MariaHenriqus1990/2003




Em memória de João César Monteiro

Branquissimo de Neve

e lá partiste,
com os teus dois olhos redondos
em cima do tal nariz adunco,
envolvido no fumo do cigarro
partiste
branquíssimo de neve;
ao fundo
o fumo negro desse filme
onde personagens falavam
de histórias de amor
ao fogo lento
de alquimicas trocas de segredos
e tu,longinquo
partiste branquissimo de neve
pelo meio dos incêndios
onde poetas acenderam
os cigarros e as luzes
das palavras
e lá navegaste nesse filme
em que o preto e o branco
se envolveram,obscuros
com o teu nome de Deus.




Maria 02





Poemas para um Androide

Fantasma Gongórico II


eu acendo os olhos na fogueira
solar
que acende na lua os raios
de candeia,
e se porventura
na aventura da noite
vejo passar as sombras dos cometas
alucinantes
que preenchem os sonhos,
não me assusto,
pois vejo claramente
a cauda encharcada nos tons
do universo
incandescente
e se ,
iridiscentes,
vejo ao longe as estrelas
de escamas alongadas
como caudas de peixes
espelho-as
nos meus olhos
e longe,
figuras atónitas de arcanjos
chamam-me
e eu canto-lhes.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A terra habitada .
.
.
Rios suaves,transformados.
em azuis correm num leito.
doce,de pedras niveladas;.
calmos,eles correm no seu seio..
Veias correntes invadem terras verdes,.
pomares,laranjas.
acentuam os tons das serras.
e dispõem á volta,as águas mansas..
Tudo na paisagem se dispõe,.
tudo circula no sangue muito azul;.
um pouco de vermelho é que propõe.
a diferença profunda do cerúleo..
.
.
Este corpo é diferente.
é mais circular a panorâmica.
alcança uma vertigem, sente uma alegria quente.
e muito ampla..
Como rosas plantadas á sua beira.
caminhamos dispostos numa cruz.
as flores que colhemos são a maneira.
de atravessarmos singularmente a luz..

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