Alma Novaes

 

Adage to porcis lentum

She was to demystify

that opulent charade, 

of the age of appanage,

It was only a matter of time,

slow andare compass, 

ora allegro ma no troppo  

and let them marinate, 

In garlic vine, yes, 

She let them think that yes, 

who believed in all kinds of 

of injustices and inconsistencies, 

in prescriptions and convenience,

in corruption and madness,

as if it clothed the whole, 

that was remedied in the mud

in the sham opulences and that she

Nothing could do but

Row against the tide. 

That the social agenda,

the metronome,

it was the more-of-the-same,

The clumsy ladder, the shortcut 

that we know, 

the social lamiré, 

in an absence of scruples

Oh, how many apotheoses 

she gave of herself 

so that she would change 

now this one, now that one. 

And she made it a statement

and she chose the opposition!

And life wanted to show her that. 

Inhumanity is what there is most

Quit. 

Look at the fuck you've got around! 

What a great fire of hypocrisy

It has contaminated 

this society 

with pamphlets

And there's that-God and the devil 

That the Good Samaritan 

it was this one and that one, 

a panoply of abstractions,

a triangulation of interests,

But, oh dear, are you all right? 

Tell me what you've been up to! 

And these common phrases 

They were the whole juice

from this illustrious sludge sample, 

of a mental poverty 

to come in handy,

substrate noun 

representative fertiliser

of this harvest of tares.

And what did the wretch do, 

You isolated yourself, didn't you?

Whore who gave birth to her, 

You're still going to become a nun! 

No, she doesn't! 

That she's a gigueira,

It can't just be values and bad tempers, 

Gotta have to have something 

rotten to be more like, 

And it can't just be a short temper!

And now, after all, 

The wretch had been 

the changed countenance, 

Blame it on the diopters

of this vision of humanity

Presto skewed everything! 

There was no value in the values, 

In this world, in which they ruled,

that the clever people populated 

like vultures, the thickets, 

It didn't matter the latitude, 

It was all rottenness and vanity, 

all lies and frivolity, 

quality narcissism, 

Wickedness of the pure! 

And there was so much ignorance 

who came to believe 

that she was the one who was bad, 

and the surrounding sample, 

in their constancy of masks

and Carnival,

found coherence 

In this operandi mode

The vast majority were right,

She opened the wrong door,

that of holy hypocrisy,

for the most part 

of the social fabric!

The apparatus!

Best the Ninth Symphony! 

She had to miss it 

Two little forehead fingers! 

And all that had 

taken advantage of it

of your generosity, 

in daily usefulness, 

They said yes, she was a sucker, 

that she lacked a lot 

To understand animal emptiness

the caricatured illustration of cordiality,

What was in her 

It was real sadness

and a lot of determination 

Not to be part of it 

of this precarious inhumanity

Your Holiness, the Truth

had been self-sacrificing

Detriment

conveniences and requirements

and opportunistic jigs!

Of you, me walking largetto, 

I remain a hermit

What is condition of the vertical jiga

Where do I come from, specifically!