Armando Taborda's articles

I have time to disintegrate in pieces of myself thought's implosion or from the life? W hatever the wind scattered cells unity remains destroyed thought gets lost and body as well waiting for the next incomig soul . Tenho tempo para me desintegrar em pedaços de mim implosão do pensamento ou da vida? Sejam quais forem as célula…

Nowadays what takes us by surprise is that all happen without our choice. We live crammed with abstract entities not controlled by stockholders. It is said that capital is the supreme good and can't be exposed to bankruptcy. At the cost of social shrinking, flop and fear. Politicians laugh in our faces and say can't do better. Clergymen pacify starving faithful prayers. And people knead field's dust, eat nettles and combat forest fires. O estranho nos dias que correm é que tud…

I have long known Manuel De DIEGO's simple, profound, and synthetic poetry. A poet without a shadow of models, he follows his path with total freedom of expression, sometimes the haiku, the epigram and the sonnet seem conditioning him, but they are mere exercises of his poetic mastery. It's interesting to sprinkle his Spanish work with some poems directly written in English. His themes are the life, love, proudly assumed Hispanicity, the mystery of the soul, alias, the motto of this admirable…

Suddenly the anguish of not having you dominates me my eyes look at the illuminated mountain's outline far away till the limit of liquid and mineral reflections where goes my thought towards dream while I smoke my pipe that reminds me many rooms where we made love till the resting bodies clearness in the sky blue fascination where I dive when I should carry on my work. Súbito a aflição de não te ter domina-me por intantes meus olhos fitam o contorno da montanh…

LOOK AT ME I will lose everything the day and the night the sea and the sky the joy and the pain the temple and the house the water and the wine and The Bread? the metaphor and the text the thought and the dream the sin and the virtue GOD and DEVIL the family and the world and The Love? the senses and the instinct the real and the virtual the humility and the ego the instant and the time the life and the death and The Eternity? Necessarily I am done so you?…

"2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY", STANLEY KUBRICK I build an obelisk from top to bottom without foundation I annul the gravity force with an equal and opposite creative energy. I mould the shape without posthumous sense nor cause and effect meaning comes up with an undefined sketch prior from its dilution into the space before becomes stone. My work is the Stanley Kubrick's obelisk in "2001: a space odyssey" jump each time closer to galaxy's centre compunc…

Here is a poetry book with a modern and original structure, as if it were a two-dimensional graph of intervals, autobiographical, where the author, with mastery and great beauty, X-rays the remarkable moments of her life. The abcissa of the graph distributes the poem into four chapters/quadrants (endless, unfading, ceaseless, undying), which are divided into twelve months of the year, from Spring to Winter, as if the entire life were nothing more than a tellurian cyclical repetition of the fo…

I went to the swimming-pool it was raining I came back it still rains so the hotter season of the year is also the more benign and me as a go-between within two showers. I fill myself of the metallic-grey landscape agony where amphibious birds fly indefinite black dots and disintegrate themselves into the magnetic field that blinds. I close my eyes and think of what I write because what I live is too little ordinary a…

days standstill. in the divided asymmetry that determines the lonely cry of the mountain. there is nothing to say beneath the flowers other than the disraction of the stones that turn into fingers. so I just leave a version with broken wings. bread on the table. blood on the floor. and the other daring day will be the next. os dias andam parados. na assimetria dividida que determina o solitário grito da montanha. nada há para dizer debaixo das flores que não seja a distracção das pedras…

I believe in life interpreted from one thing to another more than simple vibration necessity dissatisfied desire halo not from saint charisma but sound light colour mystery. I believe and currently I want the great ball of needs with an eccentric smile as an axis. I believe and I want to feel that is enough my confidence on your morphology attentive part of me when the paradox is that you see at the mirror your adult's conscience and independent body's beauty and everything cause you ha…

"the supreme good of writing is the silence" (a taborda) Another book by one of the best Portuguese poetic voices. The author makes her incessant writing a redundant and vital act, in the systematic search for silence that pacifies and puts her to sleep. It's not that her life, that of others, and the environments surrounding her don't add frequent emotions to her skin (the music is recurrent), but the bitterness is perenial, and also the astonishement of still being alive. It's…

Narrative of sound rocks me at the dream's terrace I think more and more slow this time of light burning on the mountain and invigorating the blood of seeming dead reptiles but they are vibrant of sunbathing scales shine on the terrace as dreams in the hideaway darkness they dream fire. Narrativa de som embala-me no socalco de sonhos que penso cada vez mais lentos neste tempo de luz que arde na mont…

TV Spot by QUERCUS, National Association for Nature Conservation - Associação Nacional da Conservação da Natureza http://www.quercus.pt ( post 1st edition, 2009; 2nd edition, 2023)

I can say that my garden is the best in the world cause it's there I sit down to look at the sky and the immense sky remains indifferently blue against the conviction that my three hundred fifty square meters are the most beautiful in the chaos that surrounds me and from now on I challenge the more advanced astro-physics to find in the Universe a garden like mine. Posso dizer que o meu jardim é o melhor do mundo porque é nele que me sento a ver o céu e o céu imenso contin…

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…

I feel myself a tired steed I don't give up breathless at the gallop through the blue track that whips my face as fast as the reflexes of the far away mountain blind me I don't know if the decomposed light into its own spectrum charms me I dream so close of myself that I think I am an utopia of a poet incarcerated in himself surprised by the mystery of life muddled obsessed by the uncertainty to reach the mountain's foot if a heart arrest paralyzes me or my dream smashes into a…

Fernando Grade , Portuguese citizen, writer and poet, plastic artist, critic of art. He uses two heteronyms to divulge his literary work: Abel Sabaoth (born in Porto, 1936, teacher of Latin) and Aal Aarão (born in Lisboa, 1950, economist). Together with other poets of his generation he established the "Portuguese Disintegration Movement" which manifesto was published in 1965. Probably he is its most productive and legitimate representative. He still founded and co-ordinates the oldest poetry n…

Breathing is light and serene morning grows up warm and bright in the skin the body doesn't desire to get dressed. A respiração é leve e serena a manhã cresce cálida e rútila na pele o corpo não deseja vestir-se. by Armando TABORDA, in "So…