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"manuela" poems
Life is nothing more than madness. Probably there is no karma, no right, no wrong. It's all a bunch of mechanic or random probabilities fighting against emotions, which are simply chemical reactions happening in our brain. Often good people get bad things, bad people get good things. Simple: no meaning, no reasons. We have these curious habits to give life some meaning just because we want some sort of reward for our efforts. We put effort in things because inside and deeper each one of us is a dreamer, even the most skeptical man on earth. But we should go through madness first, to get rid of our inner-fake-dreamer, to unlearn the ********* we have been told from birth and to re-learn how to dream properly, with the help of a less magic but different truth. If we decide to go through madness we need to know we may not come out sane from it, and sometime we will have left just that little bit to keep going and survive. If we succeed we will understand that there is nothing to win, nothing to lose, that is all about perception and everything is a cyclic succession of experiences to use wisely. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Life is Madness
A Massey Fergie tractor An old VW beetle A worn out pair of boots Manuela the 3 legged dog, and Senora In their humble tumble home The small concession to modern life Just a mobile phone Nothing special here No status or wealth is evident I love you Senor Mujica! You do not change your way of life Just because you're President
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
I love you Senor!
Diving into yourself. This is what you need. Diving every day into the soft and sharp sides of your soul. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
Diving
An Eternal Shrugging of the Shoulders I am writing this poem in the dark this is why I apologise to all who will read it some words might overlap others some letters might remain flat I know my message risks to arrive truncated to its addressee for that matter I feel how some lines are liquefying as if my eye itself flows in them presumably in the day when light will come back this page will be a heap of signs a hill lodged by ants or even by more evolved beings capable of praying however, the drama I have lived will remain without a voice the secret I wanted to hand down to you with this poem will be an eternal shrugging of the shoulders Matei Visniec translated by Manuela Chira
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
"At Marx's Table"
Suffering is not an excuse to justify your lack of action. Suffering is the fuel you have to burn to reach your next goal. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
No Excuses
We do not fight to become perfect but to perfect our imperfection. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
Imperfection
I'd like to dig into your dreams and discover which colors they are made of. Every morning, the echo of your smile jumps straight to the sky and, during the night, it falls to the ground like firefly rain. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
Firefly Rain
There will always be a moment in life in which we need to make some choices and understand on which side to stand. To bury your head in the sand means you are killing your own essence. To make a choice means giving some time to your soul to build a shell of dignity. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC
Shell of Dignity
Most of our best choices have a past of wrong ones. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
Choice
Time is wrapped in stars. The moment is saved, cradled in the arms of Eternity. - Manuela Camporaso
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC
Time is Wrapped
Otherwise known as Rosie Palm and her 5 sisters. Girl you too much... your sweet love gives me blisters.
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Ode to Manuela