In Angola they feel prisoners political accused of any crime. They say that it is a democratic regime that it is in the middle of the joy of their functions. The democratic potencies close the eyes and they point that it is like this that it is good, that it is like this that it is made the stability in Africa. Here is the income of the terrorism of which Europe is not gotten to loosen. Who supports the corruption and their dictatorships, in the bottom it is also terrorist without the knowledge.

sábado, 26 de dezembro de 2015

Saint Paul Hymn (Brazil) (01)

In her geography 
She makes her poetry 
She walked through the sidewalk 
And in the walk she was enchanted 
And in the glance it bewitched 
In her camera she photographed 
Possessed of life she walked 
She frees nobody tied her 
She felt that the destiny she loved 
And she knew that a hymn praised 
In the flora of the Atlantic she kept 
The geography that a lot studied 
A lot, a lot for beyond looked 
And secret in the shells shot 
In the sun of the sand it jumped 
It is seduced solemnly was 
The water came and it went left him 
A conspiracy prepared 
Always alert if it didn't tire 
For besides the infinite it traveled 
In the human jungle sat down 
The drama of the paradise captured 
A strong wave played 
In her body it hopped 
The mute foam if it approximated 
The sun of the end of the day waited for her 
She calmed her 
The ash gray water of the yellow sun 
Saddened, no, it praised the beautiful 
The vegetation of the margin hid 
For the marvel of a new day 
As a camera the sun photographed 
The waves that were mirrored 
In the sky they gathered 
The divine nature painted 
How to create a dream and in him to live 
In a palm tree a wave to beat 
And in her house of the sea to go to bed 
And to leave the sand to be slippery 
In the dawn of a new day 
Forgetting the previous nostalgia 
A deep hope she invaded 
Oh! As it is difficult to feel happiness 
In her geography 
She makes her poetry 


sexta-feira, 18 de dezembro de 2015

It has been seven years that the death took you


And wonderful memories left 
Mother's love forever it was 
The affection of your love to delight 
For there of the sea see mountains loaded of dense thick fog topped by dark and threatening clouds that you don't let to hug me you. 
I am in the margin sat down at the summit of a high rock contemplating you under agitating shipwrecked of two palm trees. 
I extend my hands to caress you but the dense thick fog doesn't dare to leave me. 
For there of those mountains where you are, the death is the memory of the eternal solitude. You, my mother, you rest in my eternal heart. 
My mother that the time took 
Your love never again hugged me 
Here is my love that I give you 
In this misfortune that dragged me 



sábado, 12 de dezembro de 2015

It has been ten years that you waived me good-bye

And you chose the eternal home for in her to live, and of there you never leave. As if it was the end of the world where is arrived and he never again breaks.  
There are a departure and a farewell. 
In that eternal rest your memory rests. 
I desire a lot for the pieces of advice that you gave me because the human wild animal pursue me and the justice is invisible to defend, and I don't know as it protects me.  
The life is as an enclosed island of dangerous sharks everywhere. 
For many years when you were alive didn't get to hug you because the family that I constituted and the effective political system consumed me, they destroyed me the resources and the soul. In the poverty that they left me, they forced, still mourning for of her to free me. But who lives with the illiteracy the slavocrats appear of everyone and the tremendous fight to leave the cliff of the poverty becomes difficult, because the poverty is the empire of the building of the corruption. It was never spoiled with such easiness and impunity. 
Father, where you are receives my hug 
Oh! As they are abundant the longings of your lap 
Desire to flee, to fly of this space 
And to return for the shelter of the family, for her bow



sábado, 7 de fevereiro de 2015

Nightmares of the nights of the tortures


The owners of the earth live in foils 
Because the owners of the crude oil are magnates 
Republic of the tortures of Luanda 
It is like this that in her walks her 
We are a population of detainees 
As animals for discount pursued 
And with the money of the crude oil 
They are anointed in the saint oil 
Foils of zinc for modern houses 
For the well-being of the populations 
The project of the new life of the foils of zinc 
And that they come more five  
Rui Machete apologized to the corruption 
Angola and Portugal don't have another solution 
The journalists have to be Leninist 
The one that are not are him in the lists 
And the specialty committees  
In the manifestation of the brutality 
They use the weapons and knots the pens 
The intelligence walks them of crutches 
Many Chinese/ Portuguese 
Of this people for nothing is not waited 
Glory to our immortal king 
And Rui Machete from Portugal 
Democratic Angola without manifestations 
They are prohibited as in other nations 
Loosen them the militias 
And the dogs police 
Sold to the Portuguese and Chinese that we have 
Without them that we will do? 
Chinese export us the pollution 
The Portuguese of the submission 
Of the destruction  
The opposition is been doesn't do manifestation  
That is unconditional surrender 
El-king D. Sebastião 
He "fled of Fortress-Quibir 
El King D. Sebastião 
He got lost in a maze 
With her real horse 
Gypsies came from a distance 
Ignored armed of scythes 
Trying to deceive the people 
They affirmed be them 
El King D. Sebastião 
And that it returned again" 
In José Cid. El-king D. Sebastião's Legend 

terça-feira, 3 de fevereiro de 2015

Crude oil slavery and corruption



Who dares to denounce murders 
It is concisely for the tyranny judged 
As the vulgar born criminals 
Where in the tyranny the innocent is condemned 
It is there went to the purchases the sister Isabel 
Very easily she bought Portugal  
Little it lacks her for the Nobel prize
With the promiscuity of the state bottom 
Wow! This unsustainable hypocrisy 
That he doesn't reveal us anything of positive 
40 years of slavery night and day 
Everything is celebrated that is negative 
Imagine to poke a furious dog 
It is that, it is going like this the Angolan politics 
Pursued by the dark crude oil 
Again under he listens in the streets to the civilian 
And of them and of their politics I blocked myself 
There I found false terrible friendships 
Frightened, spurred of them I stood back 
Of the lost time of their trivialities 
Politicians escape from the national interest 
They act exclusive in the personal interest 
Blessed for the power of only one person 
To can and such disproportionate wealth 
In her crude oil always winners 
And we in the hope always expired 
In this homeland of our salespersons 
In the unconstitutional baton soiled 
It is prohibited to hear radios and to read newspapers 
For the crude oil they are all and all state 
Information of the national monarchies  
Of the belligerent irrational instincts 
Rice and Chinese spaghetti 
Unpalatable they are sold in Kero 
That more will have of so much vileness 
More subjection to this doesn't want 
The political disaster is consummated 
And in the traffic bottled very much 
The police take the escorted boss 
Under the power of the counted time 
While if it invests in the corruption 
And in the uniforms we won't have education 
Angola buried her in the betrayal 
And of her he won't not resurrect