The human beings' conventions don't allow, they manufacture run of obstacles for the love to perish.

I didn't wake up, in the dream I continued, I fascinated myself, there is a lot that I don't get him, I am arrested, handcuffed in the god's destiny without love that the men invented. And of him I don't dare to free me because I don't want him. I want in him to wake up, never of him to separate and always seeking, to seek, to pursue and to suck the elixir stored in your breasts.

Your love, is the millennia of the ignored times of the mysterious messages in the caves, of the strings of the clarities that feed dreaming of the Humanity and that they still subdue our souls.

It is always of interlaced hands traveled, we ran and we felt the taste of the endless, always renewable sand that molded our steps. And tired, already later seating, approximate for the movement of the universal attraction of our bodies, we dreamed about the preview of the painted screen for the currents of the marine sonority.

An or other fish Alpine accentor agitated, it jumped to escape to an any predator, in the insistence that sea without fish is not possible.

A flamingo walked with their long legs, it hunted some open marine shell or some minuscule crab.

The tide grew and it flooded the growth of mangroves and it showed as that other sea, other life, of the which once in a while remembered.

A powerboat approaches very fast, the noise of her mixed movement with the human shouting, they disturb, they agitate, they riot the sea life that disappears in an apex, and he hid. And the boat stopped, somebody threw a rope with a tied stone, very heavy. On board three occupants, that swift prepares their fishing canes, baited them and they threw their very distant nylon threads. Put-in the board rests and they laugh her as children, they caught each one in her beer, they sat down and they began to eat sandwiches. Suddenly the civilization arrived.

And the disturbance lasted long, it didn't end, it continued, and our love afflicted, the concentration fled us. And of the sea he seemed to do, to hear a sound that prevented us: navigate; navigate sailors in the oceans of the love. And the sun, as that obeying her some unknown command, he opened up, he came unfastened, and everything seemed to be, first yellow, later very white, transparent, and everything rejuvenated, of life he became full.

We support us more to our intimacy desiring that these moments the eternity welcomed. The human beings' conventions don't allow they manufacture run of obstacles for the love to perish. But no… it is not possible because just somebody is enough to believe in him, and he appears as that for charm, overpowering, dear, lover, eternal love. The love is the fire that illuminates the light of those that, lost in the darkness of the jungle of the life, it guides them pursued, the hunters of the passion of the love.

Image: The trip! He desired for her. Problem: how to say good-bye?

retocandootom.blogspot.com

Lin Zhao Wrote Poetry In Blood So Her Comrades Could Run Their Liquor-Addled Mouths

This is obscure Chinese poet Lin Zhao. She was executed by the Chinese government in 1968, at the age of 36 and the height of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. For the decade or so prior she had been imprisoned, for the crime of not confessing to being a counterrevolutionary. Maybe a half million people died during the Cultural Revolution and Lin Zhao probably would have gone completely forgotten, but for the fact that she'd earned a reputation as being one of the few women at her college who liked to drink and dance and run her mouth, and also the fact that she was so pissed about being locked up and tortured when she'd been such a devoted Communist that she wrote hundreds of thousands of words worth of poetry about it, using her own blood.

Oh yeah, and none of that would have been discovered if an intrepid photographer for state-run news service Xinhua hadn't learned all this upon learning a few stories about Lin and daring to ask the question, "But why would the Party imprison someone so clearly passionate about socialism and the brotherhood of the proletariat?" After all, she had supervised a the execution of a landlord.

No really, he really wondered this. See, your average Chinese college student is almost as ill-informed about the Cultural Revolution as your average American college student. The difference is that your average Chinese college student, upon realizing this, might find something actually wrong with that.

For nearly a month, he had been trying to learn about Lin Zhao, an obscure poet who grew up not far from Nanjing and attended Peking University in the 1950s. A friend told him that of all the students at the school, Lin was the only one who refused to write a political confession during the Anti-Rightist Campaign, Mao Zedong's 1957 purge of Communist Party critics. Her intransigence was rewarded with a prison term, and then a death sentence at the age of 36. But she left behind a secret legacy: She had continued writing in prison, using her own blood as ink.

Hu was stunned. He had never heard a story like Lin's, never imagined that anything like it could happen in China. He began looking into her story and was quickly drawn in. It was as if he had stumbled upon a mystery waiting to be unraveled. Why had she been executed? What did she do?

In essence: she basically just refused to shut her mouth, or succumb to torture and use it to take back everything she said about the Communist Party needing scrutiny and input from dissidents etc. etc.

Hu read feverishly deep into the night. The document was ostensibly a letter to the People's Daily, the party's official newspaper, but it was unlike any letter he had ever seen. Lin condemned the Anti-Rightist Campaign and accused the party of taking advantage of the idealism of her generation. She wrote of the abuse she suffered in prison, of guards who handcuffed her in painful positions and force-fed her through her nostrils. She described how she wrote in blood after they took away her pen, and how the prison saved her writing to use against her. Occasionally the letter deteriorated into an incoherent rant, but every page was brimming with emotion and defiance.

Anyway, an ex-boyfriend of Lin Zhao daringly managed to save the poems, which is more than you can say for all the countless other priceless ancient edifices, artifacts, artistic and literary works and sundry other manifestations of counterrevolutionary thought destroyed during the campaign, and when Hu Jie got hold of them, he decided to film a documentary about Lin. Of course, since China is decades ahead of us on FISA-type tricks, the authorities were onto him, but after a brief chat, they decided not to break his legs or anything. So, the documentary is out and Lin's story can now go on to activate the spirits of that tiny half-percentage of the population interested in things like mob rule and groupthink and the disarming sincerity of the victims of some of history's most incomprehensible acts of cruelty... and maybe what the consequences suffered by people dedicated to the seemingly benign pursuit of the truth can teach us about the present condition.

While leaving the rest of us to ponder such questions as, 'So you think she used her menstrual blood?'

A Past Written In Blood [Washington Post]

Out Of Mao's Shadow [Amazon]

To Remember History: Hu Jie Talks About His Documentaries [Senses Of Cinema]

http://jezebel.com/5022571/lin-zhao-wrote-poetry-in-blood-so-her-comrades-could-run-their-liquor+addled-mouths

The source of the eternal beauty of the love

And of the source it drained the beauty of the eternal love. And the jasmines-of-poets surrounded her but they never agitated her. In the air he did feel - or was it heard? - the jasmine perfume that insisted, confused, the collective memory of our senses of the love. And a butterfly-blue of undecided flight, some times it arose, other times it went down, seeming that it will land, but no, he only wanted to fly. And for some time the solar rays perforated the green rifts and they projected, they revealed the magic of their luminous focuses. And the monotonous whisper of the water that was slippery, no… if it moved, it attracted us the profundities of the neurons. It was the Universe of the beauty of the royalty of the profundity of the love. Per times in the scenery seemed be heard children's voices, what did with that our spirit if it misled, because we wanted to return to the reality but we didn't get. A couple of hummingbirds approaches to quaver as that to announce, suddenly we are to arrive. A small catfish slid in a deeper point and it analyzed, it tried the culinary offers that were within her reach.

And the sky darkened, the nature ennobled, and the day of so darkness as that it perished. Some fallen drops of water in our faces forced us to remember, for the high of the sky to look. To wake up, that after all over us something exists, and that we only remembered that when the rain kisses our bodies. And the jasmine-of-poets camp being whipped by the windy vacancies that worsened stubborn, they were anxious dark. The poor trunks supported the foliages that reminded a ship in the frenzied movements on the high seas boxed by the marine mountains. And the windstorm folded again of force, they were already heard the whistles of her orchestration. The rain arose and /her tone emitted, as in Whole Lotta Love, of Led Zeppelin.

And the love hides in the secret of the silence of a woman's lips. She is the Universe and her reincarnation. More valuable it exists to the terrestrial surface, therefore, planetary, that the profundity of a woman's suit smile. And when she is present everything disappears. She is the present of permanent birthday of the human species.

There is who rents her for some time her love, but her when in that noticed fast moves her an action of spilling of her heart.

And the tragedy of the pure love in a lot supplants the one of Titanic.

There is always somebody a lot, very famous, but that keels over in the solitude, because it is her impossible to live without love in the heart.

When a woman's glance irradiates the eternity of the fortress of her intimacy, everything to her circuit became enchanted, it is illuminated, because it is a lot for besides the mystic of the love.

When we contemplated a flower, we let to arrest us for her air white, attractive. It is like this that the love works.

Let us don't leave the love given to her luck

They say that it exists a lost city of the love somewhere, and that all the lovers are seduced mysteriously by her. And you? Don't they want to unmask the mystery of that city?

To love is to wait calmly that the sea finally one decide to send Ulisses for her goddess of the love, Penélope.

And desire that from now on all of the women of the world call themselves, Penélope. And all of the men, Ulisses.

Her, the woman, is, he will be, and for ever and ever she will stay, the source of the eternal beauty of the love, where the thirsty of love in her will take a bath, they will fall in love, and the love will never betray.

He lives and it frees the force of the love that exists in you.

The contemplation is the insurance road of the divine. We looked at the water of our lake and suddenly we woke up of a dream, as if knocked down in the eternal asleep. Did we sleep because we dreamed, or did we dream because we slept and didn't we still wake up?

We woke up and we sought our glance. We tried to focus what happens to our turn, but still sleepy we verified the fragility of our soul. Per times, a lot of times?, did we fear to sleep, because they wait in the nightmares that force us to scream. But, there it is the love for in the awakening, to approximate, to survive.

Our destiny is in the loved person. Before that, our imagination fills with fantasies, of marvels, and fantastic doors open up and they show us after all the secrets of the other dimensions that exist. That the love is freed of the prison of our soul. In him it begins and it ends, the secret of the life is revealed. He lives and it frees the force of the love that exists in you.

Chinese story

A husband was to visit a wise person counselor and he told him that no longer he loved her wife and that he thought about separating.

The wise person listened to him, he looked at him in the eyes and he told him just a word:

- Love her. It is soon remained silent.

- But, no longer I feel anything for her!

- Love her, he told him again the wise person.

And before her disorder, after a brief silence, he told him the following:

To "love is a decision, no a feeling. To love is dedication and delivery.

To love is a verb and the fruit of that action is the love.

The love is a gardening exercise. Start that does badly, prepare the land, sow, be patient, water and take care.

Be prepared because there will be curses, droughts or excesses of rains but nor for that he abandons her garden.

Love her pair, in other words, accept him, value him, respect him, give affection and tenderness, admire and understand him.

That is everything.

Love!!! "

The intelligence without love, does you perverse.

The justice without love, does you implacable.

The diplomacy without love, makes you hypocrite.

The success without love, does you arrogant.

The wealth without love, makes you greedy person.

The docility without love does you servile.

The poverty without love, does you proud.

The beauty without love, does you ridiculous.

The authority without love, makes you tyrant.

The work without love, makes you slave.

The simplicity without love, depreciates you.

The prayer without love, does you introverted.

The law without love, enslaves you.

The politics without love, leaves you selfish.

The faith without love leaves you fanatic.

The life without love… without love she doesn't have sense.

http://vagner200494.wordpress.com/2005/12/02/conto-Chinese /

Image: Wonderful landscapes of China. br.taringa.net

And quavering of Chukar and the perfumed breeze of the jasmines flies restless

Dedicated: Shumayla Tanveer

You are far away from your friends and of your family, but your heart is in Karachi.

You are far, but you sit down, you foresee disemboguing of the rivers in your heart of Karachi.

You are moved away of the mountains of Pakistan, but you conserve their summits in your soul, and the clarity of their snow your spirit, that is always in Karachi light up.

Preserves in your eyes the mirror of the waters of Manchar Lake protected by the immensity of the mountains that they kiss your sky of Karachi.

The noises of the traffic automobile pursue you, and the webs of the crowds entangle you in the streets of Karachi.

And the sincere smiles and the children's innocence follow you as butterflies hovering for under your long and flat hair, because the secret of your paradise is in Karachi.

In you a goddess, princess exists disguised of human, that she renounced the immortality to hug the human beings' of Karachi mortal destiny.

And the echo of your voice kept in the valleys loosens her and it is listened in Karachi.

And quavering of Chukar and the perfumed breeze of the jasmines flies restless because they desire your return, they want your presence in Karachi.

What is that he drinks for here friends?

It is a very funny Republic
he doesn't have electric power
he doesn't have anything
What is the one then that he has?!
Widespread corruption!

One more day of corruption
in the wait
And another of darkness
he despairs us
and nobody is above
of the corruption
Great leader friend
the corruption is
with you
the corruption is the great leader
of this Nation

And a powerful demon arrived and he settled
and of Angola he will never leave, it took oath.
On behalf of the Father
On behalf of the father from Angola, of the children
daughters, so many
friends and of Holy spirits

How much more poverty this factory to manufacture,
more volcanoes will break out
they are already so many, so many
that nobody gets to tell them

So much passed time
of so much wait, desperate
so tired
In the it despairs of the wait of the independence
still no arrival, miscarried
Other liberators
they will do with that she is
freed
With the flag of the corruption
spread
Forward Angola!
quartered
And who doesn't have generator
he waits for him the power, dominant
that horror
Of manufacturing corpses
in the wandering streets
I eat formerly

The houses of the healthy people to devastate
and children with some days
they are for the tractor
to triturate, to kill
And they have tractors babies
that they triturate for the parents' despair
In the bank accounts
Illegal

You of the martyrs of the repression
the all the moment
in TPI he waits for you
the judgement
This is our prison guard
of living in the captivity
The explosion there was been already
of the revolt of the population
her palaces always set on fire of light
and ours in the darkness
of those spoiled, nude
As they can torturers our life to get better
with a hand they promise us
and with the other defrauding us

Angola is a plantation of slaves
of our farmers and foreigners
Angola is bought, he sells himself
it is rented by the worst offer

Image: blogdacamilaschoffen.blogspot.com

Ballad of the Corruption that Passes. Adaptation for our corruption of the Ballad of the Wind that Passes, of Manuel Alegre

I ask the corrupt that it passes
for the corruption of my country
and the corrupt silences the misfortune
the corrupt anything I say.

I ask the oils that they take
so much unsheltered Tchavola
the corrupt ones don't calm me
everything takes of this lonely earth.

Everything takes of this lonely earth
oh Tchavolas of my country
without homeland, without light and water
where you do go? The leader never says.

If the hunger defoliates
you die without country
and the group of the four
that you died for your country.

I ask the corrupt that it passes
because it steals us the bread
Torment - it is everything that in the clue
who lives in the corruption.

I saw to flower the green dollars
in the rioted beds
with such few masters
and so many spoiled workers

And the corrupt doesn't tell me anything
and the leader says anything again
I saw my renounced homeland
in the corpses without arms of the people.

I saw myself pariah in the bandits
of the ship-oil tankers in the sea
as who wants to flee
but it is forced to be.

I saw ship-oil tankers of gold
(stateless persons waters)
I lost my homeland, it deserted
(green dollars, misfortunes, sorrows).

There is who wants you neo-colonized
and they are too many harnessed them
I saw you spoiled, tchavolada
in the corrupt guideless arms.

And the corrupt doesn't tell me anything
he shows me, in the dictatorship it insists
I saw the martyrs without homeland
down-and-out, everything sad.

The corrupt never says anything again
he speaks to the Nation everything omitting
in the raids to the people
I see my homeland vanishing.

And the nights to the candlelight
without rulers, without country
I ask news the corrupt
and the corrupt anything I say.

But there is always a candle
that it illuminates our misfortune
there is always a democrat
that he sings to the corrupt that it passes.

Even in the darkest night
in the dictatorship of the spoliation
there is always a martyr that insists
that he riots against the chameleon

that he says is enough, not to the slavery.
Image: avozita-omeusonho.blogspot.com

They were long a lot, but here we are very patient, we knew that they would come, that they would not miss the last encounter of the life

The death is as those rulers that transform the power in graves for in them to bury the uncomfortable corpses that just said in life what felt, the truth. The dictator exercises because with extraordinary efficiency the dictatorship of the death.

Our dear beings continually shaky space, in the ballad of the eternal destiny. And we thereabout walked, always in the attempt of the escape of the inevitable encounter. And them there on the other side they always waive it us, they invite her us to the great party of the commemoration of the immortal encounter. And we refused, and we verified him how the years are so brief. And we began the preparation of the luggage, and the train already gets ready. He arrived our hour, and resigned we left, and on the other side the voices are heard stronger, closer, and father and mother happily as in a blessing of gratitude: They were "long a lot, but here we are very patient, we knew that they would come, that they would not miss the last encounter of the life. Good, finally and this time forever the family is gathered. In the death all together ones will stay. Welcome to the eternal paradise, where who enters in him, never of him he leaves."

Will it be that the love and loving anybody, is an action of international terrorism also already?!

I move for the mazes of the kept apart time, among so many words and anything of politicians notable that already discords to hear me, no longer I feel them, I see them as in another dimension, this time is again in evolution and revolution. That more thing without sense: is it spoken about everything and more some thing, and the love that they did her? Will it be that the love and loving anybody, is an action of international terrorism also already?!

Image: Naltar Lake North Pakistan

pakistanisinkuwait.net

The Republic of the a hundred thousand dollars

Until the fúnji they stole me

I am corrupt!

Here is the built homeland

enclosed, electrified, armed, without moonlight

Oh! This spectacular Luanda

of million of having spoiled

in home prison

I am corrupt!

Glorious, eternal and blessed dictatorship whose people

buried illiterate.

The independence still didn't arrive

who usurped her?!

A handful

of daggers treacherous slave traders

sold to the foreigners by some moneys

And who this to denounce

a hundred thousand dollars will have to pay

Or a year of prison will be hit

And they have dogs Pitbull

that they eat children

how to know

I am corrupt!

No longer in the surplus a piece of our earth

The independence of the corruption arrived

but it still didn't finish

Nor in the streets we can move ourselves

because a safety is going us

to question and to threaten

I am in the poverty, without country

without to know that did

To steal some thing of the petroleum

that I also spoiled

I am really a zero

Electricity, water, marries, health, job

only for who bought Angola

plus the foreigners than they govern us

It is still fake elections that we already know

they are electoral frauds that beforehand

we already expired

And who this to denounce

a hundred thousand dollars will have to pay

Or a year of prison will be hit

And they have dogs Pitbull

that they eat children

how to know

I am corrupt!

Until the banana, the peanut, the jimboa

the fúnji stole me

Do they steal me, thieves are not?!

And me when I steal

they throw me to kill!

They freed everything but they forgot

of freeing the people

That he shows and it denounces

the corruption

They have white banks

that they spoil us, they kill us!

And the dam of Kapanda doesn't have enough capacity

to supply Luanda

but potency doesn't lack him

to supply the corruption

Nobody is not arrested

while the military committee

to enslave us

The water is also to decrease

and it will end, to lack

The final moment approaches

tumbling

The clamor of the people

he is in the air

I am corrupt

And who this to denounce

a hundred thousand dollars will have to pay

Or a year of prison will be hit

And they have dogs Pitbull

that they eat children

how to know

Utah highway shut after 20m bees escape from lorry

A highway in the US state of Utah was temporarily closed after a lorry carrying at least 20 million bees overturned, freeing the insects.

The bees were being transported to California, ready to pollinate an almond crop next spring.

Interstate 15 was closed down for several hours while local beekeepers worked overnight to recapture the bees.

The trip was among the last of 160 truckloads of bees being sent south from Adee Honey Farms in South Dakota.

Authorities closed the southbound lanes of the highway, near the Arizona border, for several hours on Sunday night. The road reopened early on Monday morning, but officials have warned drivers to keep their windows closed.

"The driver lost control, hit the concrete barrier and rolled over," said Corporal Todd Johnson of the Utah Highway Patrol. "Of course, we then had bees everywhere."

'Complete loss'

Driver Louis Holst and his wife Tammie were dragged out of the overturned trailer by first responders, but were swarmed by the escaped bees on the highway.

"We just started swinging our clothes," Mr Holst told the Associated Press news agency. "They stung her all up and down her neck."

Mr Holst said he was stung about a dozen times and suffered a gash on his forehead. His wife also was both stung and bruised.

Two police officers were also stung.

Richard Adee, owner of Adee Honey Farms, said this truckload, worth approximately $116,000 (£72,500) was "pretty much a complete loss".

Local beekeepers worked overnight to capture the bees, but on Monday most of the inhabitants of the 460 hives were gone or dead.

"We tried to move them [the bees] as far out of the metropolitan area as we could," beekeeper Melvin Taylor told the Reuters news agency. "Because when those bees come alive today, they are going to be mad that their house is all [broken] apart."

Earlier this summer, an estimated 14 million bees escaped from an overturned truck on a Idaho highway.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-15439754

Image: No life threatening injuries were reported after the bees escaped

Shakespeare signs covered in protest of Anonymous film

Shakespeare's name is being removed from signs in Warwickshire in a campaign against a new film which questions whether he wrote his plays.

The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust is taping over nine road signs for the day to coincide with the premiere of Anonymous at the London Film Festival.

It criticised the film as an attempt to "rewrite English culture and history".

A memorial in William Shakespeare's home town of Stratford-upon-Avon is being covered with a sheet.

The sign on The Shakespeare pub in Welford, where the Bard is said to have enjoyed his last drink, is one of 10 pub signs that are being covered.

'Enormous legacy'

The trust said it wanted to highlight the potential impact of the film's

"conspiracy theory" that William Shakespeare was the "barely literate frontman for the Earl of Oxford".

Anonymous stars Rafe Spall as the Bard, Rhys Ifans as the Earl of Oxford, Vanessa Redgrave as Queen Elizabeth I, and asks "Was Shakespeare a fraud?"

It reignites the age-old debate over the authorship of Shakespeare's work, taking the view that it was Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, and not William Shakespeare who was in fact the true author of the famous plays.

“Start Quote

This film flies in the face of a mass of historical fact”

Dr Paul EdmondsonShakespeare Birthplace Trust

Dr Paul Edmondson, head of knowledge and research at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, said: "This film flies in the face of a mass of historical fact, but there is a risk that people who have never questioned the authorship of Shakespeare's works could be hoodwinked.

"Shakespeare is at the core of England's cultural and historical DNA, and he is certainly our most famous export.

"Today's activity barely scratches the surface, but we hope it will remind people of the enormous legacy we owe to William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon."

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-coventry-warwickshire-15440882

Image: Nine road signs have been temporarily taped ove

To live is to struggle to be happy

And you got to reach the human being's ambition, the paradise of being, and you are in your eighth amazes of the world. He lives your happiness now so that later you remember of her. Because they are these moments that lead us to the state of the permanent memory of our soul. Never forget: to live is to struggle to be happy.

Global hypocrisy

Anyway the global hypocrisy expired once again. It is also true that the global manipulation is an acquired case, and us no longer we are part of the pieces of the chess game. Now we are corpses in the global cemetery. We are graves, no longer we are alive, but very dead.

China is major supplier of heavy artillery for African countries

The Angolan army is in contact with Chinese defense manufacturer Norinco, seeking to buy heavy artillery, armored vehicles and ammunition.

Posted by ThunderBolt on February 4th, 2009

China already has been supplying an extensive range of light weapons and ammunition to Zimbabwe and Angola. African militarysources told United Press International that Norinco recently exported a number of 155mm howitzers to North African countries, including Algeria, Sudan and Egypt.

One source told UPI that Algeria purchased enough 155mm auto-propulsion howitzers to equip a battalion. Algeria traditionally has not been a purchaser of Chinese ground-force equipment, but seems to have taken its lead from Sudan, which first bought the howitzers.

One company of Chinese auto-propulsion 155mm howitzers consists of six artillery vehicles, one 704-1 positioning radar and one 720-D meteorological radar. One battalion is composed of 18 155mm howitzers, one command vehicle and onesurveillance vehicle.

This type of auto-propulsion 155mm howitzer originated from the 45-caliber PLL01 towed howitzer, which uses extended range full bore, base bleed or rocket-assisted — ERFB-BB/RA — ammunition with a maximum range of 50 kilometers (30 miles).

Other ammunition used for the howitzer includes the 30-kilometer (18 mile) range ERFB/HE — high explosive — and the 39-kilometer (24 mile) range ERFB-BB/HE. The weight of the artillery weapon is 13 tons.

Analysts from the African military industry believe China has fitted Russian Krasnopol semi-active laser-guided gun launch projectiles on its 155mm howitzers. The United Arab Emirates uses the Chinese-version Krasnopols, which are almost one-third cheaper than the Russian originals.

A military source also told the author that Norinco has delivered WMZ-551 6X6 wheeled armored vehicles to both Zambia and Kenya in the past three years.

Kenya is not a traditional market for Chinese ground-force equipment, but as China has been competing fiercely with Russia and South Africa in selling arms in Africa, it appears to be opening up new markets.

The Royal Guards of Oman have imported 50 of these vehicles, and the Sudanese army also has them.

The WMZ-551 uses a new turret and is equipped with the 2A72 30mm gun produced under license from Russia. The armored vehicle can be fitted with a 12.7mm machine gun, 105mm smooth-bore gun, 120mm mortar and four HJ-8 anti-tank missiles.

It has been reported recently that the Chinese army’s light mechanized brigades have received batches of WMZ-551 wheeled armored vehicles fitted with 120mm mortar guns, 105mm smooth-bore guns and 2A72 30mm cannon guns. A source from theChinese military industry told United Press International that the turrets of the WMZ-551 can be transferred to 8X8 wheeled vehicles once those have been developed.

Aside from the weapon systems fitted on board, the WMZ-551 has a combat weight of 13.5 to 19 tons. It is powered by one 235-kilowatt diesel engine, has a maximum speed of 85 kilometers per hour, a maximum duration of 600 kilometers (360 miles), a length of 6.69 meters, width of 2.86 meters, and its speed in water is 8 kilometers per hour. ( UPI )

IN http://www.armybase.us/2009/02/china-is-major-supplier-of-heavy-artillery-for-african-countries/

Corruption in Angola: an Impediment to Democracy. Rafael Marques de Morals

Introduction

On April 1, 2011, the National Assembly of Angola voted for a bill criminalizing the use of the Internet and mobile phones to send information, photographs, or text messages without the prior written consent of those mentioned in the contents. The “Law to Combat Crime in the Area of Information and Communication Technologies and of Information Company Services” establishes a maximum penalty of twelve years in prison for such violations, while online child pornography is given a more lenient maximum sentence of two years. To date, the proposed legislation is in a state of political limbo.

Two weeks later, on April 19, 2011, the National Assembly established one million US dollars as the minimum threshold investment for any individual to qualify as a private investor and receive state incentives. The rationale for the “Law on Private Investment” was that it would attract bigger foreign investments and enable Angolans to be more competitive with their foreign counterparts.

These two legal initiatives illustrate both the current state of democratization in the country and its political economy. Examining these laws is critical in addressing what has become the most defining issue in Angola, both in official discourse and for the society at-large: the untrammeled, high-level corruption in the country. Following the purging years of the Marxist-Leninist era and the continuous civil war (1975-2002), this paper argues that violence is no longer the key feature of governance in Angola: corruption is. At a time when citizens’ demands for democratic reform, economic opportunity, and political accountability have led to upheaval in the Middle East and North Africa, both laws demonstrate the government’s response to the fundamental question of how it plans to rule Angola within this period of regime change and democratic transformation.

This paper is divided into three sections. The first section discusses the consolidation of presidential power in Angola, demonstrating that the power of the executive has been historically strengthened through the use of constitutional and legal measures. This shows that Angolan law rarely serves as a check on power, but instead is used as a tool to enable an environment of high-level corruption and impunity.

The second section introduces the proposed “Law to Combat IT, Communications and Information Society Services’ Crimes” as a case study illustrating the shrinking space of civil society and independent voices in Angola.

The third section addresses the role of the new “Law on Private Investment” in ensuring a presidential monopoly over the levers of Angolan economic power. This section will also present an overview of available legal mechanisms to combat corruption and provide a narrative of the country’s current political economy and its modus operandi in the banking and oil sectors. The expansion of private banking ventures in the country necessitates close scrutiny, as high-ranking public officials who comprise the shareholding structures of these private banks increasingly use these ventures as venues for money laundering. On the other hand, oil is increasingly central to the nation’s realpolitik. In 2010, Angola was the largest oil producer in Africa, with an estimated output of 1.9 million barrels a day. Crude oil represents more than 95% of the country’s total exports.

In conclusion, the paper reflects on the current state of governance in Angola, and what it would take for Angolans to engage in a nation-building process anchored in the separation of powers and its attendant checks and balances, as well as public accountability.

http://makaangola.org/2011/10/english-corruption-in-angola-an-impediment-to-democracy-3/?lang=en

Where the hypocrisy reigns

It is above all don't forget, never she let to dominate for the hypocrisy. At this time there are hypocrites that try at the whole cost to impose us their false moralities. It is that we are in the ideal moment for the victory of the wolves disguised of lambs. She don't let to drag for the populist currents of the chaos and of immense so many revolutionaries. The true, the genuine revolutionary appear along the History just a, or other, very few, now suddenly so many, so many, is the revolution like this confused, who is not known is who, it is not?!

Let us avoid to fall in the temptation of one more Victory of the Pigs. Where the hypocrisy reigns, that it is the case, it will come because the decline.

The Republic of the a hundred thousand dollars

Until the fúnji they stole me

I am corrupt!

Here is the built homeland

enclosed, electrified, with weapons, without moonlight

Oh! This spectacular Luanda

of million of having spoiled

in home prison

I am corrupt!

Glorious, eternal and blessed dictatorship whose people

illiterate persists.

The independence still didn't arrive

who usurped her?!

A handful

of daggers treacherous slave traders

sold to the foreigners by some moneys

And who this to denounce

a hundred thousand dollars will have to pay

Or a year of prison will be hit

And they have dogs Pitbull

that they eat children

how to know

I am corrupt!

No longer in the surplus a piece of our earth

The independence of the corruption arrived

but it still didn't finish

Nor in the streets we can move ourselves

because a safety is going us

to question and to threaten

I am in the poverty, without country

without to know that did

To steal some thing of the petroleum

that I also spoiled

I am really a zero

Electricity, water, marries, health, job

only for who bought Angola

plus the foreigners than they govern us

It is still fake elections that we already know

they are electoral frauds that beforehand

we already expired

And who this to denounce

a hundred thousand dollars will have to pay

Or a year of prison will be hit

And they have dogs Pitbull

that they eat children

how to know

I am corrupt!

Until the banana, the peanut, the jimboa

the fúnji stole me

Do they steal me, thieves are not?!

And me when I steal

they throw me to kill!

They freed everything but they forgot

of freeing the people

That he shows and it denounces

the corruption

They have white banks

that they spoil us, they kill us!

And the dam of Kapanda doesn't have enough capacity

to supply Luanda

but potency doesn't lack her

to supply the corruption

Nobody is not arrested

while the military committee

to enslave us

The water is also to decrease

and it will end, to lack

The final moment approaches

tumbling

The clamor of the people

he is in the air

I am corrupt

And who this to denounce

a hundred thousand dollars will have to pay

Or a year of prison will be hit

And they have dogs Pitbull

that they eat children

how to know

Image: SOS WILLIAM TONET. It kills himself the man but never their ideas

10Out11. Dr William Tonet, the national hero of the Angolan democracy.

Condemned by the military committee of Angola to the payment in the period of five days of a hundred thousand dollars, or a year of prison.

Collect of bottoms to pay the fine requested by the Tribunal of Luanda, in favor of the journalist's freedom, director of the weekly publication FOLHA8 and pled Dr William Tonet. The deposit is to be done in the Banco de Fomento de Angola in the bill number: 383111031009.

After all we thought

Philosopher is the individual that ends philosophically after endless interior dissertation that we were born, we died and that we acted as the internal incentives attack us and external that they stroll to our turn. And that we reached the incommensurable truth when leaned over about the abstractions of the endless Universe, because that the more vast to least conclusions we arrived. And that after all due to the such smallness got lost confined us universes. And that after all the cosmoses are the key of the truth of the philosophy. And that in being able to of that key we didn't get to decipher the door, how to open her. And when finally the door is disappointed, oh discovered addition, oh last evidence. The door stands back from us to the speed of the light, she was surprised, it was stunned because it also sought the truth of the cosmogony and it deciphered her: that after all we thought.

And you see the distant love

He goes; it follows your steps, the last of your ephemeral destiny that, disguised there is a lot desire for you. In spite of the masks that you invented, that you inculcated in your face, to the end of your terrestrial adventure, he will close up the last mask of your misfortune. Oh! Only now, in the end, you don't want to perish, you resist, you don't want to go, and in your last moment probes an inhuman effort, reinforcement of living. You go definitively and you see the distant love to waive you for sinking of your Titanic.

Meditate: the love is the only winner.

Until already in our refuge, leaned us disenchanted. The waves of the sea challenge the immutableness of the venereal time, and they whip us with beating metal basins. Actually, in the Nature everything gets lost and anything if it transforms. And the waves of the sea air cross the more discharges and daring human protections in the challenge: everything that the human being projects and it builds, always stronger, more powerful, the waves of the marine fantastic cavalcades more they strengthen, and so easily they penetrate, they leave rocks and they smile at the men's bad projects that fall so without mercy for the storm. It is that the humans persist in the fundamentalism of the matter, of the material. For everything to resist to the fury of the elements it is necessary, fundamental, primordial a raw material: the fortress of the LOVE. It builds your projects with love and you will never be expired. The forces of the Nature will follow you and forever they will obey you. Meditate: the love is the only winner. He thinks about that.

Our eternal source of the youth is the love.

It is suddenly stopped as that alerted by a mysterious force that it imposes us a discovery. And as that it jumps us, he assaults us a sparkle in our mind. Were we never possessed before by something what understood, my God that this will be?!, did we ask in the frenzied ones. And we looked and anything we seem to surprise. There it is the uncertain virtuosity of the crowd in the promised agony; there are anxious millennia for the promised liberator. The crowds come out mechanics, messianic of the prisons of the home for the another of laboring. They vegetate in the blockade of the announcements that they promise them a life better, very healthy. Will it be that they will get to meet again them outraged and millenarian mazes of the love that the vampires suck us? Renounce, abandon everything, the human being becomes pregnant her with love, and with him it should continue. Our eternal source of the youth is the love.

Eternal absence

After your odyssey in the slavery of the life, suddenly the death called you, it was your time, it sought, and the bill of your life paid off.

And your adventures in the highways, years, so many years of lost expectations. And you continued, you turned to the limits of the destiny.

It is deceived so many times insisted on the slaves' route. More years, so many years without remuneration.

It is the more suffering, more food for God that later will reward you, it will guide you, it will feed you in this life and in the other it will follow you.

The reward is in the earth that we stepped and in the sky we just looked at him.

We lived of promises, and of tortuous hopes of the electoral politicians' assemblies.

And the times always so difficult, easy for the ones that they adulterate the History, always more and more difficult for the crowds that perish in her without they glimpse the promised better future, forgotten, lost.

To remember the watered earth of tears. Of so much time in her past in the fight against the sadness of the poverty, in the certainty that the death is the left faculties' continuation so that the alive ones in them are inspired and continue in opening of the doors of the Universe.

Image: fun95.com

Miss Universe of everyday

I always await the infinite wait of the delay

as in the magic of the margins of my sky it despairs an angel

I will never forget my gesture of tenderness

always dedicated to my son in the distant abandoned

for promises that will never be accomplished

I will never forget the waits of my countless worms

Human lines to get the essential of everyday

Centuries and desperate centuries to affirm me as woman

With dignity I became used to support

the contempts that it has been throwing on me

And in this provoked human condition

it is reborn me the black existence, and leaning:

I am black about the brown sun of the afternoons

As the moonlight of the nights, and naturally

spotted of the yellow dawns of the annual marigold

Because I am beautiful, as the dawn of everyday

I am black because I am deigns, African descending nobleman

The immensity of the Universe is microscopic, such and which is as the love.

The spirit of the waters still didn't rejuvenate her because her poetry is frozen, cold. The noises of the drums are listened in the savannas caressing him moistened grass of the vigil nights without roofs. In the distance it is heard agitating of wings of the perished bThe spirit of the waters still didn't rejuvenate her because her poetry is frozen, cold. The noises of the drums are listened in the savannas caressing him moistened grass of the vigil nights without roofs. In the distance it is heard agitating of wings of the perished birds of the contagious uncertain direction. The fights and our aspirations lead us to the convulsions of the glances loaded of betrayal, humiliation and spoliation. To live is to combat, for better life conditions to obtain. Revolutionary is just a mere word that is it of facto, never uses her. Poet is to know to meditate, to savor the movements of a stopped screen but showing us the movements of the History of the slavery and of the human infamy. Glance is to show, to prove that the immensity of the Universe is microscopic, such and which is as the love.

Image: Mountain of Baltoro - Pakistan

ultradownloads.uol.com.br

To martyr, Lady Ermelinda Freitas, Angolan Joan of Arc

The militant of the BD – Block Democratic, prey with other demonstrators in a total of fifty, some tortured, martyred and others disappeared to the May 27. They faced with unheard courage the most repressive and ferocious forces of the world that are entitled of democratic. Another process of the 50 wins body, the history repeats. But now it is of facto and of it swears the fight for the true independence that is locked. The democracy will expire and of their executioners it will be freed, it will silence them.

The soft morning breeze attracts us

We already reached finally the sunset where the love keeps our desires privately. In the foams of the transparent and irreverent tides of the cycles that seem repetitive, we walked uncertain in chiseled them sands that are slippery, they lie down wavy. The soft morning breeze attracts us for the boundaries of the irreversibility of the time of the love. The murmur of the ancestral fossils invades our memoirs of the beginning of the first love. And we rejoiced because finally we met again the lost love, and of him we didn't want more to leave, because we feared to faint in the unfathomable roads of the passion glances no rewarded, no understood

Image: Nanga Parbat (Pakistan)

loucuramental.com

The woman's tears fecundate the Earth of the jasmines.

Woman is a pearl always present, doesn't need oyster. It is the smile that makes to live us. It is the infinite beauty of the gestures of the remarkable feat of the charm. It is a potent light bunch that in the guide and in the abducts for the roads/nests of the love. The mystery of her glance does with that our heart stabilizes, normalize the blood pressure. To be woman is the astral ecstasy. A woman is several dimensions, several Universes. It is a rose of eternal petals. It is our salvation stairway for the paradise. The World moves, the World is woman. Their caresses are not tender, they are divine. To love her is to know to listen the sounds of their silences. The time is infinite; he was the woman who invented him. Peace, silence, harmony, wisdom, patience, to forgive, to believe, tenderness, love, and a lot, much more of the divine essence that it originates the WOMAN. The woman's tears fecundate the Earth of the jasmines.