adroaldo-barbosa-jr
As a writer, Adroaldo has a very wide literary production, where there isn't a literary style in particular. Writes novels aimed at teenage and adult audience, children's books, short stories and poetry. Currently has five books published by Amazon and is known in the international literary market as John Lake. / Also known as John Lake, / / In 2004 he graduated in letters Portuguese / Spanish by Unioeste . In 2009 he graduated in Teaching Methods and techniques for UTFPR . / / The composer began his career as a vocalist and lyricist, which ended up writing songs for their own underground rock band, "File burning". It has about 500 music lyrics. The band was short-lived ( 1996-1998 ) and left behind a CD ( The future of the nation , 1998 Sanval ).
Please,
just a coffee.
An Irish Coffee!
So that I can remember
of my land.
So that I can remember
of my dreams.
So that I can remember
of the smell of grass.
So that I can remember
of the taste of rain.
Please,
just a coffee.
An Irish Coffee!
So that I remember everything.
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
Poetry bother me,
late night,
late in the day ,
does not matter!
.It Is a desire to *****
a new world,
a new thing
that makes me crazy,
Chases in bed ,
rips the mattress ,
I steal the covers,
I hijacks the pajamas.
.all Day bother me,
everyday,
all the time,
does not matter!
.A Poetry ****** me off
all the time,
robs me the second ,
the minutes , the entire clock.
**** with my calm ,
bare my soul ,
accentuates my anger
and stone me ,
.me Turns inside out ,
disrespects me ,
me frightens ,
***** me ,
.She Takes me
and you receive me as anecdote,
Sometimes you love me
and sometimes I hate me .
Poetry completes me ,
But never satisfy me .
So addiction me
this drug me anesthesia ,
.They Treat me like a *****
And ***** me mercilessly ,
smells all my powder
and leave me in bed , alone.
.Me Separates ,
Alienates me ,
Enslaves me ,
I still buries in life.
.Make me to be
Another toy,
poetry that complete me ,
But never satisfies .
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
When is the right time
To make a decision
To bring the result expected
In the short time?
when sleep
I hope that my mind calm
The storm inside my heart
And slowly burning in my soul.
I'd love to say that renews me
Lie down and be able to rest
Without worrying about the ****
The whole world is doing around.
According tired unsure
If even I slept or stayed awake
Or that period of time where
It is not known what the exact place.
When I get up I see a strange world
And I wonder if even belong
In this load of crap
That is present in every corner of the window.
Reborn and die as well as sleep and wake
Every day that passes, every year
And the meaning of existence is lost
If it ever even had any.
When I think I catch something,
Even if it seems a small thing,
Become the ultimate of humanity,
In an almost complete rarity.
I run like a wild one
Do not know where, I have no idea,
Just run, just run
As a mad mad completely tormented.
If no secret even in this life
I do not know, not found and no wonder.
I only know that I was born. When? Someday!
I do not know, do not know or want to know.
Only interested me the 'when' of things.
The amount no longer matters so much,
After all, at that time of life,
The time of things is important.
Schizophrenia embraced arrives at the age,
Senility kiss my lips
And practically asks me to marry
In a final story already announced and predictable.
When?
Now!
Senile, anyway.
Amen!
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
honest people
What drives these people
Honest and so simple
Still insists ,
He fears nothing and not get tired ?
His hands say so much
And his look brings so much history ,
Your smile is real
And your pain , reward.
Each step is so welcome
And the search is so intense
I hardly understand me ,
Almost I do not see me .
My heart can not see
People cry, people suffer.
I add the ground and the direction ,
I lose faith and to the right.
I lose step ,
I lose track,
I lose so much,
I lose everything.
I'm speechless ,
I'm deaf,
I'm blind,
I lose the world.
Where all these people cry
Honestly that never tires
It's like a huge house
Where have people up on the balcony.
This dirt road ,
This dirt road ,
softly cry and beg
That hold on my heart.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
If touch,
Feel ,
If arrange ,
If perfume.
If you assume ,
Take a chance ,
If talk ,
If understand.
Respect yourself,
To appreciate ,
If protect,
Be amazed .
If you miss ,
If seeketh
If help ,
If setting.
If you draw ,
Pride ,
If inspire,
Thrill .
To equilibrate ,
If set ,
Free yourself,
If you cover up .
If dating ,
If you choose ,
If desired,
If conquer .
If hug ,
If you kiss ,
Treat yourself ,
Love yourself!
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
Goodbye, I'm leaving,
Now no return.
In the end, I'm smiling
While you cry.
I've jumped the fence
And I fall in the dark,
I've played around the world
And I lived every second.
I've done a bit of everything
And I enjoyed every moment,
Already swam in the open sea
And I realized all desire.
I now off the party
And let only my story.
Refuse all almsgiving
And run away from this great school.
Now do not delay
Not any more second.
Comes to an end my life
And the anecdote.
Goodbye to my life,
Goodbye to the good life.
I leave part of my story
To make it in memory.
If I go to Paradise
I get there smiling,
I get there asking
Not return to this world.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
No one respects anyone!
old prejudices
They arm themselves on street corners with divine ideas .
old prejudices
They rule the world since ancient times .
old prejudices
They are never forgotten or outdated .
Old prejudices :
Spends time and are always remembered .
old prejudices
With the skin color
Are old prejudices
And eternal concepts .
Old and older
Prejudices of old
They are old and eternal ,
eternal concepts .
Concepts are created ,
Concepts arm ,
Concepts as old
They are old prejudices .
as old ideas
And extreme measures
They are eternal pests
Who do not die of old .
old prejudices
They are old and old
eternal concepts
And eternal prejudices.
No one respects anyone!
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Looks like it was yesterday
As I walked in the rain,
The lifeless bodies
That will not touching .
Dreams take account
What did not happen
And fear dominates
The landscape of the place.
It seems that time has stopped
And nothing in the world has changed,
A year has passed
And not changed the landscape of the place.
Perhaps of awe
All the shouting in the darkness
What is lost in her hair
And the simplicity of his gaze .
That drink of sweat
Or learn from all this pain ,
But who understands the landscape
Abstract feeling and love.
That will touch me and cut sleep,
But to get me out of this place .
What causes me or rapture
But show what is beyond the look.
Perhaps the blood missing
Be like the name in vain ,
Anyway,
It is the absence of light .
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
The youth
Youth is weird,
Somewhat interesting.
An adult pop rock mix
With child soda pop.
Youth is Coca-Cola,
Marlboro, whiskey and energy,
The eternal monologue of life,
ID number, property tax and Netflix.
Youth is John Lennon,
Che, Fidel and Hendrix,
Contemporary history,
ancient and medieval history.
Youth is pants ripped jeans,
Popsicle, lollipop, painted face,
Chicle, coffee and french fries,
Point G, miniskirt and condoms.
Youth is the Dalai Lama,
Techno, rave and rasta,
Drugs, drops and guitar,
Punk, samba and hopefully that-fall.
Youth is the opposite of the opposite,
It's a Friday at midnight,
Mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise,
X-salad, ham and cheese sandwich and X-men.
Youth is D-Day,
Vietnam, Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Testosterone, Woodstock and Waterloo,
Afghanistan, TPM and MTV.
Youth is a pressure cooker,
Isis, Syria, sukiyaki,
Anonymous, Al Qaeda, rice and beans,
Genesis, Revelation and mint candy.
Youth is weird,
Somewhat interesting.
An adult pop rock mix
With child soda pop.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
What is born of this land?
Nothing is born,
Nothing grows
In this desolate land.
I want to wake up the neighborhood
To hear my screams at dawn
But they do not hear anything,
Do not listen to anything that happens in the morning.
I play my music in the streets,
All my poetry and clichés
But they do not understand anything,
No one understands what happens at dawn.
I walk the streets looking windows,
***** children in their rotten rags
And I cry with those who are hungry,
I do not know who cry or love…
I embrace the poor in spirit
And hear all your stories poor,
These poor and pathetic poor souls
It is my right meeting this cold morning.
I go through the streets and alleys damp and dark
And I hear a child crying…
A repetitive and child crying wretched
What is the worst of all choruses?
I see people and their hurried footsteps
Everywhere, everywhere…
I'm afraid to follow my tracks
And I hasten my steps through this city.
I hear the sirens screaming in the streets
Mixing the sound of nightclubs crowded
And the sound of twisted metal
Creating a new contrast, another type of cry.
I sing with you almost every night
And sometimes I wonder: where are you
He left so early and left me here...
Now I’m alone! I’m alone!
God, I try and cannot understand
Reason to justify this life.
I am a pawn in the game you do not see
Every dawn until dawn.
Something touched my whole being,
Something I do not understand and do not try to understand,
Something that comes up every day when I wake up
And after me until nightfall.
Something happens,
Something moved,
Something incomprehensible,
A new friend?
They say that being is almost live
And living is the limit of what you can want.
In fact, something happens that one wants to be here,
However, not all this desire craves.
Nothing is enough
When no longer feels the aroma of flowers,
When the color no longer thrill
And they cannot be sold to look.
Gave me such rare moments
Feeding the future although at present,
But waking I do in all my steps
Get me the taste of things even in thought.
In my noble and poor land I wander
And I feed the memories of liars,
Get drunk me with joy and gladness
And insistent way in the land of lepers.
In my humble vacant land,
Time is proud, ignorant time.
Hunger is rampant around me,
The flesh is weak and soul idem.
I ask as much as the worst of sinners,
Wasting a time that no longer have,
Not differentiate right from wrong,
Share supper with my detractors.
I do not feel the taste of wine,
I do not recognize a smile,
I do not remember the hugs,
I'm finally alone!
I weigh my conscience in the balance of a butcher
And the butcher tape me with ravenous eyes,
There is no any agreement on the price of the meat,
Nor is the first or second.
God, you who are owner of the ages,
Give me the hours its final minute
And cause the whole world to know
That left miserable after all.
Grant then that desire
And finish time with this work,
Free cities this unfortunate
Who insists on knowing what nobody knows.
When there is fever, it makes no difference,
There are times the blood is poison.
Red is the color of anger and sin:
The poet knows when he is sentenced.
If there is even poetry these avenues
As equal in different cities,
To be recognized
For the sake of pursuing life.
Burial in the deepest memory
The giant concrete towers,
The grotesque glass structures
That mimics a new artery.
A new artery,
A new lifestyle,
A new company
And an early cardiac arrest.
As the cars kissing the avenues
Meeting the perfect companion
That tells me in the ear:
"_Accept me as the only one"
Finally, fear runs through my veins
And feeding a forgotten feeling,
An absurd desire to see the next day
And try another outlet.
All the streets are congested.
A whole shantytown has just been set on fire
While some locals try to save
What remains of an entirely bankrupt life?
There is a twist
Around this humble heart,
A carnival,
Almost a provocation.
All veins are old and weak,
There is melancholy at all.
Even without poetry,
Without free will, there is life at all.
This city is just brick,
Metal, sweat, concrete and glass,
Cement stuck to feeling
Often beautiful and often ugly.
This city is sand,
Concrete and feeling,
Sorrows and joys,
Poetry thrown to the wind.
Some people learn early, some not -
Live life day in and day out.
Some dance to the song,
Others are lost before the chorus.
Some are always right, some not -
Many are lost in illusion.
While some running, others sleep
And all seek some direction.
Some dream rock bottom,
Others dream of the river bottom.
Some seek independence,
Others are the exception.
Some people win,
There are people who are lost,
Some people becomes the problem
And others think is the solution.
Digress weather
What about the "types" that encounters in this life.
I lose a second in this lost time
And even with so little sense, how rare is the time!
If you have no idea, nor do I know.
Maybe the hunger that consumes me consumes you too.
Perhaps the addiction that affects equal
Is something that arises only between abnormal?
I addiction with its tapas
And in each sip of his cup,
Each exaggerated affection offered
In exchange for a few bucks.
I ***** me with your lies
And assimilate water from your gutters,
I learn new shortcuts in every way
And erase the traces of my own steps.
I chase you in every church and every home
I swallow my irony,
Visit each elderly
And make friends with the hospice house.
Far reaches thy wickedness
And how many hugs another's grief?
Can evil be so inspired?
The point of the very surprised to be expected?
Life bleeds leaving the left chest
The children of the world that the world does not want,
Spread the news that sadness has hair
And more brown eyes than mine.
I notice refinements of cruelty
In this urban masochism
Where poverty has older
And the lie became just a vanity.
I transform
In all more abhor,
I emerge in the mirror
As my own killer.
I suffocate and tie in the dark of my room
Little souls endangered
And throw in the trash the dreams of those who
He believed devoutly one day be part of reality.
I still feel the skin marked by fire
The brand that hurts the brand of truth
And I pray that one day cease searches
And everything becomes futile.
The happiness of fuel
Corrode and fades away slowly
Gradually me satisfaction
With the balance that sustains me.
When I look at my own face, it hurts.
I exhale the body the rest of fear
And I try not to see how strange the line of truth -
Seeking the path that leads to freedom.
Disguise my desires
And repress my absurd,
Hug each nightmare
And hide my darker side.
I try to see something beyond the abyss,
Find something else beyond the walls,
Transcribe all longings
Hidden behind every dream.
I am eternal,
Sinister,
Land and fraternal
While the world lasts.
There is this chest a divided heart
Created almost between two worlds,
The world is inside the abyss
And what one sees behind the walls.
My corner is stumped
As well as the small voice and uncertain
From the little that is hidden on the other side,
My other side of that wall.
What have other corners?
They also have these sides
But what counts in these corners
Also rhyme in other valleys.
Bright lights bother many people.
Darkness feeds inconsequential.
High walls with brass railings gleaming
Are contrasts in painting a colorless screen?
Urban flowers are so amazing
And this depression is so exciting.
Smiles are bitter and needy
And the pain married to vows of love.
These buildings are so interesting,
Where the wet streets at night shine like diamonds,
Where transiting the fair and honest
Munching vanity and rancor.
The cars pass and illuminate so many people,
Whites, blacks and children without color.
Poets are so tucked the irreverent
Assimilating the pain and all that is.
I see lives that trace the same plane,
joy of generations by mistake ,
Marks of time that are pure desperation
Charting together a colorless future.
I see faces full of hope
Burning in public because of their color,
Those who live without even realizing it,
A cold paint drips without why.
Bodies dancing high parapets
Almost always go so early
Challenging theories and concepts
And ignoring all kinds of love.
My steps are so slow
And so intense movements,
The faces are always the same
And I hope again the sunset.
Justice who is in charge of giving clemency
The presumed innocent
Transiting the streets
Spreading hope and love.
I want to have a chance to see the birth of Venus
And the annunciation in the middle of spring,
I want to be like St. Augustine
And read the scriptures by candlelight.
I want to be like Van Gogh and paint sunflowers
Even in December the ink is red.
I want to have new flower garden in the backyard
And the kiss out of my lips is never accidental.
Just want something passionately
Even being so blind and alone?
That goodbye is worthy
And everything to return finally to dust.
The idea comes suddenly
To celebrate as an illiterate,
Prepare a table and invite
Only those who are hungry.
All this turmoil,
All this protest,
All thefts
This legion inside me...
Melancholy has always had its place,
Love, sadness and bitter returns,
Feeling alone and be like shadow in the crowd
And embrace the darkness itself.
Find it romantic suffer
For pain that recognizes pain that always sees
It is more than a disease, it is a love affair
For all that hurts and causes pain.
I let them think I was defeated
With the unexpected attacks
Of those who cry shouts of victory
And they forgot to be buried.
I leave them to play in my back
The guilt of all blame,
Let it burn my entire story,
It does not matter that much.
My lips run on search words
And my eyes run in search of beauty,
Drawing liar’s feelings
That shut all the bells around.
Words come out like blades
In hoarse voice coming out of my mouth
This other me who hates me so much
And all challenges at first.
In the spring mornings leaves dance
Rehearsing his ballets from the rising of the day,
Is this life?
_It’s this they call life?
I want to find the lost word
Among the tasks of the day to day
What is so profane?
The prohibited!
I want to meet a new season
Bring me a sense of relief,
Find what they call happiness
And maybe learn what it is.
An epidemic,
Leukemia,
Rimes illustrating
An eternal melodrama.
You cannot have everything!
Not always beautiful are our days
And we keep waking up.
Roses do not speak, but are also alive.
There is hunger for love!
There is hunger and what will?
There is hunger in this home?
If there is hunger, then there.
There is time for everything!
There is time to smile,
No time to cry,
There is time to leave.
I want to run away from home without a warning,
Running between the wheat fields
And let all afflicted
Trying to understand what had happened.
I want to cause confusion,
The same kind that I bring in my heart.
I want water all around
With the storm inside me.
I want to wake up the sleeping
And those who never agreed,
I want to find out who they are
And spread about us.
Lovers of this pain,
Thirsty without knowing
Where else to enjoy,
Where else to call "home".
I shift my gaze
With all the hatred of this world
Of all the ragamuffins and vagabonds
Who recognize me in a second?
I want to break these chains,
Scratching walls,
Promote anarchy
And imprison noon.
I want rain penknives
While tear my clothes,
I cut my wrists
And count all the drops.
A day can be
Something happens
And make to cease this endless grief
And everything changes, anyway.
So lose the naivety
What remains this morning?
I envision the absurdity that all I see
Is still something to be remembered?
Maybe one day
Poetry is done singing
And the light breeze the corner
Everywhere!
I want to get a perfect world,
I want to love what is defective,
I want to explore my own room,
Make another deal.
I want to shake you violently that coffin
And show where all the mice,
Ignite old blankets
Which now they were pretty.
I want to show you I love you
And I hate you,
I can live alone,
But also not live without you.
My madness is productive
At the same time, destructive:
It satisfies the crowd inside.
I refuse to be part of the pack
Strolling in supermarkets,
Feigning patience as immoderate
The suffered.
I like debris,
I collect dust,
Make enemies,
Cultivation dreams.
I constantly change identity
And lose track of reality,
My state is ill
And I'm terminal and disposable.
I participate in this game,
This novel in decline
This disgusting theater of horrors
Where only the blind are honest.
I am thoroughly enslaved
While deprive me of the privilege of choice,
Burying our will
In the deepest pit.
The wall that separates us is low
And we walked jumping from one side to the other,
Often both exist
And others, only I exist.
We are a nun and a *****
Plotting an eternal dispute
Between the two sides of the coin
To decide who runs and who fight.
As simple as saying your name
Spell out the pieces of your body.
I want to understand what God's grace
If your body will never be only yours.
Your body exudes the morning sweat,
Clouds hid the principle of pain,
Pain discovers a new form of pleasure
And the pleasure is expensive to you.
Your blood runs nearly everywhere
And a new world opens up suddenly,
Frighten the fleeting pain
And wait with his only love the sunrise.
I wipe the sweat oozes from you,
You wipe the tears falling from me,
If you can be in the world some endless love
The only certainty is that there was never before such love.
I want to wake you up
To hear my screams at dawn,
Show you what genuine despondency is
And not left me anymore.
I want to recognize me
And take me to your bed,
Not left with nothing
In addition to beating in his chest.
I want to be part of its history
And I want to be a constant presence in my,
The world spit their prejudices
And the fire that also burns in the heat.
I want to break the mirrors
And heal our sickness,
Assaulting what kills us
Every day, forever.
Serene and calm give you what remains
With my last breath,
What's best in me now rests
And rest my mind.
My sweat is true
It is also all the pain.
Blood is final
And it goes to the last vows of love.
The entire storm inside me
Now relax my heart,
Soothes My Soul
And feeds the reason.
I walk by this peaceful land
And growing a new crop of wheat,
I do a incognita a new partner
And the fear is not definitive.
I harvest hope
Where before there was only bitterness.
I am ashamed
And regret.
I accept the entire cross
And fight against the serpent.
I heal my wounds.
And my success is violent.
Time is short
And I want to scream that entire plan,
There is still a flame inside
And only her surrender.
What was misery,
What was despair,
What was hungry,
What was fear…
What was pain,
What was love,
What it had value
And when there was time…
What is born of this land?
Nothing is born,
Nothing grows
In this desolate land.
What is born on this land?
What grows in this land?
Nothing is born on this land,
My private wasteland.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC