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, 13 de dezembro de 2008


The quisling of Rwanda united us
When I hugged my dear friend Tatiana Rusesabagina
She always remains the memory of the Westerner slaughter

That the wars of the Blacks only to them they belong
She is entitled of if they kill as well they understand
It is her war, it is among them. That they kill themselves, that great!
They be exterminated! How many better because they inconvenience a lot

They are deviations of the civilization, converted to the force, to the fork of the Christianity
As always the Whites fled
They left, they abandoned in the streets done of powder
That they were not moved before the mortuary
Cemetery outdoors, improvised
Massacred, quartered, they were like this the bodies, and their remains

Abandoned. Failed to protect, give in the sun that in the soil the to toast.
He decomposed them. Everything seemed so unreal, as seeds thrown to the earth
Without being cultivated.

Crazy farmers that plant corpses
And they wait that are born plants to renew, to continue to kill
To stimulate the hate so that it serves as excuse to the genocide
It is later to nickname him of barbarian’s states
Before they were the crusades to free Jerusalem
Now they are to free Black, and everyday there is
Black crusades, pagans' slaughters
Dispersed corpses, habituated because they lost
The importance. They won the contempt of the abundance

The Black Continent is a Rwanda diary
The champions of the democracy are perennial in the coexistence
Convenience, they support the dictatorships friends
That they guarantee his survival

It is as the militant literature, it defends the past
darkens the present, it eliminates the future
We are nomads, we started the distemper to flee of the shots
And of the cutlass
We are food for jackals, hyenas, and vultures

And the political parties break in the mamma, of the cash in hand
There are many shines, but the dreams stay darkness, obscure

Gil Gonçalves

2 comentários:

potentenum disse...


I was browsing through blogs with Next Blog >, and your layout (the picture and the heading too) caught my attention.

It's very generous that you've dedicated an entry to Rwanda...this is a great blog =)

Gil Gonçalves disse...

You are as a poppy’s field, painted for Van-Gogh, in one afternoon nicely hot, and abundant of tenderness.