YNIAR

Look at the trees
Didn’t stop at the top
Not for him
Used to borrow the wind
For a walk

Entropic Society (Thumbs Down Version)

Is the world too messy to be clean?
Should we just sit and watch?

Fools those who think

That can clear up the Earth.

 'Cause we all know, since our birth,

That it will never cease to stink

Time to go further

(R-E-V-O-L-U-T-I-O-N)

Do you prefer to be an unselfish fool or a smelly fucker?

Mass Concentration and Moonbeams

When science and art mix together...

No negro basalto lunar 

Tal serenidade apenas mente 

Imóvel, incapaz de navegar,

Os mascons sugam-me  vagarosamente.

O meu olhar fecha-se derrotado

O brilho anortositico já mal se sente

E, hesitante, vou sendo empurrado

Para aquele redemoinho eminente.

Encarcerado ali vou acabar

Como o vagabundo desesperado 

Que das correntes se tenta safar

Adverso àquele pesaroso fado. 

Fotografia: Joana
Texto: Francis

Paranoid Amazon

De tons pálidos e rosto enrugado
Lá vai a outrora fogosa latina,
Seguindo o seu inevitável fado,
Desusando a antiga força divina.


Tão valente e lutadora.
Empreendedora da liberdade!
É hoje mais uma conservadora
Nesta pobre envelhecida sociedade.


O fulgor da sua juventude
Deu lugar à monótona idade.
E à triste mudança de atitude,
Voltando à original fragilidade.


Agora delicada e grisalha,
Na solidão da sua alma caseira,
Vai julgando a jovem gentalha,
Que lhe pisa as flores da roseira.


A fantástica Amazona,
Tão incrivelmente destemida,
Deu lugar à velha Carmona,
De uma pobre idosa desconhecida.


Texto: Francisco Reis
Fotografia: Joana Brito

Human Blackout

Did you ever felt blacked out?

Filled with emptiness
Without writing a word
The effort is needless...
The brain isn't spurred.


Maybe I'm just artless
As needed as a lamp off,
I'll take a deep rest...
And let to them the scoff.


This thing that I feel.
They do not even know.
Is not some worthless spiel:
Having the brain full of white snow.


Human blackout?
It's like being constantly striked by a stick.
A fucking metaphysical stick

A Cabeça do Velho

Above the skies there she is. Steady for thousands of years.

All the birds had flown up and gone,

Some lonely clouds float quietly by,

Here they are, at every single dawn:

The mountain's peak and that head's guy.

Is like the old byword:

 The gifts comoving rocks.

(so there's the answer for her stability)

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana

Unfortunate Chickens

 Don't mess with rooster (mr. cockscomb) and its ladies.

An offensive and ugly face,

Some beady and unfriendly eyes,

Clumsy but ready to a chase,

Disabled to reach the skies.

Pity for those who have wings but can't fly, 

poor G. g. domesticus.

Texto: Francis
Fotografia: Joana

Nebulous Fog

So undefined as human behavior.

Hovering around,

As an escaped soul,

From the vilest hound

Who as gone as burned coal.

Today we're flesh, tomorrow ashes and then we'll not be more than escaped souls.

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana

Backdrifted Nightmare

What's worse than a nightmare?

A slow motion nightmare.

I'd just felt as a madman:

Figures moving like ghosts,

A sick brain causing mayhem,

Overthrown by an herd of blurry goats.

The thing about nightmares is that you never know when they're real.

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana

Natural Vegetables

When the Nature mix together.

A thousand of peas,

And an onion inside,

The magic of olive's squeezed,

And a warm pot relied.

A warm pot full of vegetables is the right way to feel the mystique of Nature. 

(or you can light your own rolled s*****)

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana

Grasshopper?

I'm so truly human as the picture's grasshopper is truly a grasshopper.

I'm not walking on green,

And I'm neither a jumper,

Take a look in your fucking screen,

And give me a fucking answer.

Do not judge by appearances.

Looks can be deceiving.

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana

Painful Backfired (Experimental I)

Did I heard "Backfired"?
(Experimental Non-Paranoid Illusion)

For all the folk's goods,

We burn our own moustaches,

In a tiny jail as an herd of goats,

Soon, we'll not be more than patriotic ashes.

Broken... Unbroken... Who cares?

'Cause we all know: a king's favor is no inheritance.

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana 

Apparently Noninfectious Myxomatosis

Noninfectious for dogs but's still not a pretty experience for their eyes.

Lunatic and sick,

Keep killing himself,

Dogs are not too weak,

But's better grab the helve.

Give a dog an ill name, and he will soon be hanged.
(Or wait until the disease leads him to suicide)

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana