The Epic Poem of the Darkness (74). You don't kill for you be not died!

I don't give up the misfortune while the poverty exists
I am in the penitence, in the black existence of the zenith
No there is nobody to be disposed to struggle
and only to think that always somebody exists
illuminated
He will exist always somebody that in the display
the alarm clock
He will always exist an Old World

The New World, already ancestral discovered
With the desire to end, to alienate our race
he came true
Soon we will pass to extinct zoological grocery store
To it films of dinosaurs and pterodactyls
It was like this with the American Indians
with all
An extermination democratic spirit elect
because imperfect
The black gold is very valuable. Me gold of black no
They did with that my sorceries lost the power,
a sorcery atomic dethroned me

I am beautiful as flora out
And that it is ordained forever
The beautiful women, his beauty will be forever
Planted in the Universal garden
in the irrigated of the polar dawn

In spite of everything the soft marine breeze
he hovers under my look
And per times the mountains I think human
Who would say that in the great trips?
we seemed more human
Who would say that the human beings
they get lost in the adventure
Who would say that of the endless dialogues?
we became inhuman, savages, sweet and bitter
Who would say that cannot survive?
without insomnias
Who would say that of the grown up final
winegrower would be a sweet memory

The acme, the luxury of the Old World he argued
He didn't understand the recent civilization, new of the New World
The medieval time destroyed the traces
of the old civilizations, and the man learned strongly
to cultivate the mortal instinct
Of tearing, to destroy the people that lived in harmony with the Nature
The shouting scared the life of the seas, of the rivers, of the mountains, of the forests:
"Where is the gold!?.. Where is the gold!? "
The innocence of the humus in the earth kept him

The thousands of human corpses that didn't attribute value to the metal of the discord were martyred and abandoned in the earth virgin, unsatisfied.
The Nature began the gigantic revolt that it lasts long; it will last long, until turning off the incandescent human's torch.

Don't kill for you be not died!

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (73). Without teaching I don't get school

I compare myself as
asleep margins wakened up by the sea sleepless
High the moonlight wanting to deceive the sea
Close the breeze of the night reveals the shadows
of the growth of mangroves in the marginal vegetation

After a distressing and long absence
I stare myself for far away from the torments per moments
Undecided, lost, that the love doesn't see
We ran crazy some against the other ones
we diverted the encounter of our eyes
We didn't get hug each other during one moment
and we promised that we would be slave of the new gentlemen

I get tired so much of these princes and princesses
so distant and so close
always with the same flagged star, deceiving
Everything so close, so distant

With petroleum and diamonds in excess
I prepare the escape
The return of the failure, of the ecumenical economy
When they steal… it is to the million
IMF supports, he reminds that the actual, world
democracy is demoniac. Great invention, that of the democracy
for us to continue us enslave her
subtlety

To the beaches of the brace of the boats of the ignominy
More forced return for the settlers that wait for me
besides Azores
Lost in the tides black oils company
without diamonds
Of the forces, forks policemen, military and politics of the despair
of the chronics mortal epidemics

He ran in the day drowned by the rain, he wandered
for not wetting the hair
For not appearing with my undone femininity
As it is beautiful to love my wet hair

When the war began… it began there is millenniums
It began with the men and it will put an end to them
It is not significant to think that the wars will end
because the men still didn't end
But it is significant to think that the love
he will put an end to the wars

I forgot that I am African, I am a so-and-so, he begs mundane
I saved a white of the death, it was ready to immolate
Pus my body to her front, later sang me a song
to despise me

And many secrets got lost
in the Westerner civilization they burned
I returned to the slavery, without books in the hand

It is her body that governs, it dominates the world. They don't use the mind
I am not producing, I am hunter predator
I dialogue without thinking
The merrymaking of my mind is an immense noisy disco
rusty
In the buildings that we inherited of the settlers, they relive
They live in the Gothic fluorescent imagination of the past
I always walk to seek and I always meet in the same place
I don't get to leave, because I don't have money for anything to acquire
Alive in the dimension of the air, while they let to breathe me
And in the pot of imported can I don't find anything to feed
Without teaching I don't get school

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (72). The sewers don't channel, they build the incipient democracy

They guarantee me that the war is necessary
and that the man is necessary for her
so that there is violence in the words
War!.. In my Africa (?) of the smuggling of weapons
And of the champions of the corrupt power
and for life

As rocks standing back of the moonlight before the storm
And the fire of the stove possessing
the liquid coffeepot before the ebullition
The heavy bale in the light ant before the hunger
of the Winters without life
The vigorous sun playing with the leaves of the trees
before the burning
Black that left of they be men
pursued by the sleep of the dawns
Always walking before the sun to be born

The hillside letting to roll the stone
before the plane soil
The noise of falling of the rain in frying of the potatoes
before drag

The sewers don't channel, they build the incipient democracy
Yes! The air free from the sewers, drains the democratic flow
in the upstarts' refulgent wealth
of the petroleum, of the luminescent diamond
Incomparable wealth in the miserable poverty
My feet of the hunger don't walk, they crawl
as the serpents that bewitch
In the rails of the roads sinuous, impetuous
they sink the auriferous rivers, oilfields, diamonds-producing
In the weak points of the rich heels
It remains me the royalty of the torments
of the laments timeless
so much wealth to my turn
in this city without revolt
See! The poverty stopped being
sadness

In this sea immense, deep, with shallow people
Small, superficial with powerful means
immense and deep, they throw intense excrements
in the muddy and infertile seas
While the straw hat that hides the head
of the hot and stubborn sun
He meets casually the coach with the wood wheels
in the road full of stones creaking
The almost asleep seating man
he whips the horse
that indifferent it drags everything this
proceeding in the indifferent road
Lost in the darkness, in the sleepy solitude of my soul

They discovered me in the Mountains of the Moon
In the hill Kilimanjaro, in the Lake Victoria, Tanganyika
and my bikini
Before them, I spent vacation there with my friends
Now I am afraid of the sea
they are sharks in their altars of the holocausts
In the pedestals, convicts' crowds and hungry persons
they suffer the democratic dictators' horrors without democracy
night and day

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (71). To carry in the trigger is easy, to carry in the mind is difficult

They came to discover the wealth, the smell of the life of the soil
After Gondwanaland fallen rain
And of my scream of victory of the eagle
When hovering in the heights, to go down and to hunt the prey
without bitterness
In the sound of the silence of the water of the river
shaded for the greens, billowing foliages
of the birds, in the ships nidification. Then he deforested

El Che arrived
He lied me, it didn't free me
My friend countess of Mount Christ taught me
He uses Mona Lisa's smile and wait until you get to recover
everything that they harass us and they spoil
in this incomparable black terror
The banks
They steal, they steal us, and they assault us. We were invisible, transparent
A thing is impossible steal us… the hunger

He was lying on top of the weekend
In the beach my body enjoys the sand
too attractive, hot of the sun that felt
A stranger pulse to run for the transparency of the water
I dove quickly, diving more and more
It was ready of the bottom when I opened the eyes
avid of children that didn't see the future
in the Angolan concentration camps
I sat down in the sea bottom forever
To think that it is in the silences undulating
That they are born the reflections
I lost the courage of returning to the surface

I am pure and limpid as the night. Her beauty pursues me
with the aroma of my vanity
I speak, I order to the forests that dance
My histories arrive of the sky
I don't need to improve my beauty
Nor my aspect, taste of my dark eyes
I am beautiful as the night
I walk in the sea, of the wavy planted vegetation
The mountains, the hills, the fields, obey my desires
To the road without eternal love of my lost paradise
The treasures of the life that steal me
they deposit us in his banks
The lost glory never turns
It is buried at the museums
of the superior orders

We feared ourselves, we avoided ourselves
as if we were murderous
I travel in the time of the disagreement
The physics laws disturb me
I sleep to the edge of the electrocution
In the extemporaneous luminous signs
of the tomorrow because I don't get to jump
to come unfastened of this dimension. I extend the arms
I close the eyes
in the direction of the most visible port of the space
There always it begins and it finishes my dialogue
Come my treasures of the jungle, follow me! Follow me!
Let us remember the enigma of the chimney
of the ruins of our civilization in Zimbabwe

To carry in the trigger is easy, to carry in the mind is difficult
When I walk, I like to give, to feel to jump my breasts,
To loosen them to the salutary, healthy solar return

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (70). In the finite bank terror of the numbers without universe

I am not independent, I emphasize my personality
I didn't accomplish this dream… I continue very unhappy

My dissatisfaction because I will never be happy
They prohibited me of admiring the grandiose works of art
That similar humans produced
In spite that am a masterpiece
They don't let to transmit me my feelings
Everything that I feel and leaning, perpetuity’s ocean
A beauty of immensities, an import of without serenities

A tenuous beauty demonstration, a fleeting display of humanity
Of which the human being seems to scare
And does it only demonstrate her when he sees destruction?!
There his life is protected
in that unknown link
The brilliant idea woke up me the cruelty
of the Westerner atomic civilization
The independence of the liberators arrived
black
With new promises, new settlers

The trumpets play, they alter the peacefulness
The dictators will eat their words
and during millenniums they will be hated
The mediocres ones they will go with them
with or without four stations

I am not brilliant, I just seek the Road
of the independence that they spoiled me
nor in the streets I can sell
to survive
because soon they loosen the dogs
all want to bite

Of my misfortune, the petroleum is black
The sun he is reflected in the white skin
In mine it is absorbed
In the morning I am blue of the sky,
in the afternoon it yellows of the sun
At night I am chocolate Jasmine of the Night

Something as fundamental as the love
That he appears so distant, distant
As per times I think my despair
So much cruelty did me
and they do. They undo me

I don't believe in anything!!!

Nobody doesn't appear on whom believes
Only dictators and corrupt chosen in the false elections
that the Occident imposes me
I believe in me as a divine being
I seek the support, the exit of the despair
of the torture of the words
of my intellectual brothers (!)

Of the tortures, dizziness of my heart
Somebody on whom trusts with all my forces
To believe, to trust, to love nobody
That it is always for close and tell me:
He lifts you and bed that I aid you
In the infinite of the skies and of the times

In the finite bank terror of the numbers without universe

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (69). The dictator complicates what is so easy

I recognized you fugitive of the window of the airplane
stealthy. In an endless African afternoon
always too pale, without serenity
consumed, with a lot of tropical rain
Always in the dream that ran for you
and in the we hugged each others
In we looked at each other during almost fifty years
of the History that pursues us

Of the sweet stabbed tenderness
While the rain forced our fragility
Because the Universe left
it is just
A man and a woman faking love
I woke up, I lost you forever
It is for that that I travel in the hope
Of meeting to the window
of a stealthy airplane

My birthplace was my world
I remember to feel her force
when he walked in his fertile ground
Now I have been loaded, perfumed, thrown to the filthy
Of the generations without life
of the Angolan dictatorship
of her petroleum
of their diamonds
of the soccer and of the real stadiums
inflammables, infamous

It was amusing, without currents, arrested in the traffic of the streams
And of their celestial gardens that they taught me to be woman
Divine as a symphony
in the celestial grass
They told me that the Nature was a picture, a painting
executed by my ancestors
That they came of very far

And that the babes were breastfeed of the sap of the flowers
They said of them that were other fragile paintings
Other creatures, other flowers in the celestial garden forever forbidden
of they be picked

That it was as soon as everything began in our World
The rivers were serpents and the sun invited them to meditate in the life
Everything continued like this until that a dictator sold us
he sold
The sunbeams that shone in the transparent stones
I lost the present and I mortgaged my future

He sat down dawning in the high of the Young man's hill
And he hoped the sun captured me
In bass the people bloomed in the morning transparency
Moving for the sadness of the infinite to extend supplicant
Of the hands, of the body in the mendicant solution
Without direction, without visual universe
That here lies in the presidential palace
of him, of them

My everyday one finished
It was a group of permanent memories
He is emperor, king, and our president
certainly of Shaka descending Zulu
In another civil war always living
Despairing that the mandate messianic architectural
without presidential elections
Last long in the coming generations, perpetuated

To govern is an art, the idiots don't think so
With the heads of such distant rural picks
As a difficult sensibility, where it doesn't drift her
To drive is so soft, simple

The dictator complicates what is so easy

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (68). Of the silent breeze of the flower of Diana

On this side of this lake I am
in the anxiety of the fish without water
His sorrow swimed in the cold night, I lament him crying
Because they don't clean me my sea of tears?!

My black love changed me for a white one
for other love
I await exhausts that Job rewards me
That I will hear the angels in the sky to sing
That I will be a lot close to them as those
That they believed in me and they escaped from the contempt
As they will make all the ones that waited the end of the slavery
That he appears, it perishes, it seems
that only after the death

That sad end to believe always in the men's invention
A not! They are many disguised wolves
But is where you? Because you don't give me a hope?
A tenuous memory is enough to dare to be happy
The truth is as the remains of a mirror
That it remained of building, and they taught like this us
to give up, to destroy
We only recognized ourselves when we are front of their ruins

The life is a fort disturbance alcoholic longing
She flees covered with an awning of the soft and abrupt thick fog of the palmar (population inside of a palm tree) *
Where the alcohols pursue our existence
The steams are intense, pleasant projects
If we got to wake up, enraged and frustrated stunned
In the invasion of the torpor, of the cry. Mediocre, soon I exist!
Of the universal victory: drunks of everyone, I united you!

The prow of the fog doesn't break up, they resume the clouds neurons
of the existence, of the anguish as vehicles in the city without light
With just their lights been dazzling in movement
As jasmines yellowish trying to meet again the lost sap
of the life
Hidden shadows of the lost nights
There are no days, just monumental static statues without dawning
In the empty glances, swollen of the lost silence somewhere
This is the sea, ours to navigate of the alcoholic oil tankers

As the difficulty of obtaining the simplicity
Of the silent breeze of the flower of Diana
Abandoned nature to the forest fires
Green-ash without undulation, in the sleepy sun of the endless days

Rejuvenating to age, to be born to resume
to die without transforming what surrounds us
Arrested in the colour of our pain

Heavy palm tree leaves bent by the green of the pain
And the time is not eternal
In the tragedy of the night I asked God to be inspired
But, glance? Yes! The house walls have fissures
Through where my freedom
it can peep

* in dictionary HOUAISS
Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (67). Uncertain, uncertain I go, where nobody waits for me

Of my languages Swahili, bambara, Yoruba, umbundu, kimbundu

They did, they invented a park Jurassic monkey-like

The sailing chooses, of the rocks of the special spice

The first discovery that the sailings, navigators in earth

They agreed to of unexpectedly was my sensual nakedness

There are centuries that I was discovered

Almost, when they arrived to place setting

In the covered with the ships and they didn't see

That they discovered me

he was already has been discovering very

In the nakedness that I invented

They screamed me related to kaffirs when I imposed the bikini

In the nude, in the nude Celtic hot ritual African forest

I still conserve the hot of the complexion, of my nakedness

I continue your legend, Fabled Mountains of the Moon

They didn't believe that the summits of the Kilimanjaro

they covered themselves of snow

My name, they are many invented names

Indigenous, native, kaffir, Gentile, black, monkey, dark

And in the area of the religion…demon

Forced of the ones that they came from the violent seas

And they saw other calm ones

We didn't have to work

The Nature was our gentleman

They called me kaffir because I love the waterfalls

And they heard to speak to me with my friends

Of the trunks, of the foliages and green leaves

The waters of the rivers and the trees

They invented him retreat of the time because

we didn't have palaces same to the of them

The buildings that our gods built

It is what remains of the White civilization

They rediscovered the old seas before navigated

I am still today hidden

Therefore they insist that I continue discovery

It was, I am different because of the torrid yellow

Of the disk solar, equatorial tropical

The purple of the Mountains of the Moon

he throws the summits of the nobility of the pearl

I have hope in worse days

The life is very simple but we complicated her

Without thinking, we preferred the pain

Of the loss of the voice, of the escape with hurried steps

Uncertain, uncertain I go, where nobody waits for me

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (66). Aretha Franklin

And of glory I glorified myself when Aretha sanctified
and in his halo she sang me. She spiritualized the kingdom
Of the Queen of my soul. She doesn't sing for us
She enchants God

She transferred me the dimension of the Passion of the evangelical hiding place
When we faced problems, let us fold again
Let us sing, let us sing

The rulers oppress the people
We want an answer, we didn't doubt of the bet
of the intolerance of the hunger. To govern is to starve
And the spiritual ones are an alert Aretha
Such celestial voices, so, so… spiritually Black

God offered the black distinction to the melodious Black
With voice so immortalized, so celestial
If that voice is the Sky, I want to go already for there
There are two Skies: one of the Lord, another of Aretha
I adore both

Aretha whispered me the reason of smiling, of extending of his finger:
I "indicate the good road of the Redemption. There is only a God
in the Road of opening a smile in my finger"

I charmed myself, I think I clarified myself very well:
"Aretha! it is easy to appear for the moral and social degradation
but our glance is lowered before who governs so badly"
We tried a peaceful boat to oars and we rowed
In the lake of rowed waters, calmed, acclaimed

And the Lord it evangelized the angelic waters. He preached to the jasmines
and the waters very smoothly were anxious
Intensely penetrated, perfumed. And they were revealed
and they possessed all the living one. And all rejoiced
God exists yes gentleman! It was revealed
Aretha Franklin, orders of the hymn of the special party of God

And the Master of the Statues gave him sound and tone, he made the Universal sculpture

Image: http://img.timeinc.net/time/time100/images/main_franklin.jpg

The Epic poem of the Darkness (65). Tatiana Rusesabagina

The sorcery of Rwanda united us
when I hugged my dear friend Tatiana Rusesabagina
He always remains the memory of the Westerner slaughter
That the wars of the blacks only to them they belong
They are 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 mortuaries
Cemeteries 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 he toasted
he decomposed them. Everything seemed so unreal, as seeds thrown to the earth
without being cultivated. Crazy farmers that plant corpses
and they await that they are born plants to renew, to continue to kill
To stimulate the hate so that it serves as excuse to the genocide
and later to nickname him of Barbarians 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
Black Africa is a Rwanda diary

The champions of the democracy are perennial in the coexistence
Convenience, they support the dictatorships friends that guarantee his survival
It is as the militant literature, it defends the past
He 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

Image: http://www.blackfilm.com/i3/movies/h/hotelrwanda/010_l.jpg

The international Terrorism and the banks

The banks feed the financial system of the international terrorism. They are accomplices, they spoil the planetary populations. And the fundamentalism of the terrorism feeds as marabunta. The banks don't alter the rules of the slaughter of the international concentration camps of the demoniac banks.

And the fundamentalism is found, he screams overpowering, destructor, and winner: Allah is big! Allah is big!

Put an end to the spoliation of the bank terrorism and the international terrorism will fail.

The Epic poem of the Darkness (64). Phillis Wheatley

The longing hurts, it is a wound when reminding the value of a friend's friendship
A hunter of slaves deprived her of the freedom with only eight years
They forced her to not to pick more mangos, pineapples, bananas
the savages' fruits

She lost forever the interior, the secrets of her Mother's sorcery
the African jungle. It embarked orphan in the mother slaver
Oh! Don't do me badly! I never again promise to flee of the Whites

I won't arise more to the backs of the palm trees. No more I will refresh
I will satiate in the water of the coconuts. Because no more I will see them, I will eat
My parents, siblings, friends will remember. The tides in the sands won't hug
The morning is so enclosed, shaded unreal
He stripped to greet me. I see the prow of the slaver
That me have-of taking, to slide. No there is, I don't see, nobody doesn't come
To lean on, to help to save
The margin stands back, I think she sends me a smile

We are already far. He didn't know that the sea was like this big
so immense. Fortunately the slaver he is not afraid of him
they seem friends so. He should have a lot of hands that hold him
Or else he sank. I am afraid of this greatness and I burst into tears
The slaves' trafficker screams me. His voice is so potent
that the ocean shakes. "Ó spice, collects you in the cubicle! "
It recorded in the memory the furrows of the prow slaver that it broke eagerly
the marine currents. The rioted vacancies accompanied the hurry

Of the arrival without a destination. Of so far known
she docked in Boston, a New ignored World
Some of the modern slavers that redo the route
before African, take oath with fright
that they saw a ghost ship, flying Wheatley
A rich merchant bought her, she presented it as maid for her wife
You of the slaves could never know

That it mattered, she bought a poetess, a condor
The plantations of the illusions enslave us, as crowds
You gave him to study geography, history and Latin. If all studied…
To the thirteen years it demonstrated famous poetry

With twenty years in England published her
Exotic African with scale in the New World
Phillis Wheatley ended in the law of the jungle. Thirty and one years of Christianized fervour
Far away from the silent heat, of the caresser breeze, tender savage
Of the rivers swallowed by the valleys of the black poetry. Extinguished, unknown
Live in his black heart, known in their thoughts
Of very clear and intense movements

Image: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/41/101590847_d9af3b419a_o.jpg

The Epic poem of the Darkness (63). Pocahontas

I accompanied my friend Pocahontas to London
We were received by King Jaime I and Ana from Denmark
English looked at us as… as exotic jasmines
We entered in the cut erected by the melody, expressive heroine
Melodic of the Baroque music

To our dignity princely passage, the nobility was dislocated
In the mannerist bows of the royal palace of Whitehall
We ended the course of the ground recto chequered
We knelt down majestically to the kings' of the world feet
Then my friend Pocahontas whispered me:
The love is not born, it is inside of us, because both of us know how to forgive

We were, it was, one more rapturous princess to the New World
New life presented in the cut of the flattery
New World, new wealth

The feats of the hero’s Elizabethan’s, Victorian that will be versified immortalized. The facts of our heroes will stay ridiculed

Pocahontas died two years later, with twenty-two
She stopped doing prayers and bows to the purity of the trees
And eagles that she loved. Victim of the human impurity

Everything! The whole poetry of the life Powhatan in Virginia dismayed

Image: http://www.scarborough.k12.me.us/wis/teachers/dtewhey/webquest/colonial/images/Pocahontas.jpg

The Epic poem of the Darkness (62). November 11

I am badly, but I continue honest
because rich of coherence and verticality

They banished me of the presidential circles
local
insistent labour
of the messages, of the habits
Western

Elegant slave
the missionaries give me good lessons
in the missions
Obedient, submissive, to fearing God
without consenting, they turned me
slave of the Mister
And the new gentlemen's servant
of the independence

Again… but they didn't discover anything
they obstructed, they destroyed everything
of the city of Luanda

That it would be free from the slavery
and of the colonialism
Indecorous lie. They forced me, one more slave
of the king and of the queen

When will I return to my freedom?!

The Mister of the Cottages it dislodged me
he shattered me, it destroyed me, it spoiled me
As all the inhuman beings
it is very imperfect

Always in the infinite wait of the delay
in the time fiftieth anniversary

So many noble in the sorcery
with the desire of they enrich
The gestures finished
of tenderness
in the independence that despairs me

They forgot me and to my son
in the distant abandoned
For promises that never accomplish
Just the waits of the countless ones
worms. The banished human lines
of everyday
to get something
that they spoil me
everyday
in the despair, without independence
I will never affirm myself as woman

With dignity I support
the contempt’s of the independence
thrown by the FAMILY
And the despicable diplomacy
of the Westerner hypocrisy
Again in the inhuman condition
outraged
They drag me in the black existence
Yes, I am black
as the international terrorism
that it pursues you, and it will torment you
They want me without instruction
for the slavery
My freedom is the moonlight
of the angular night, angolar

They stained my beauty
They left me whitish, to dry

I am black
In the unworthy invented independence
only of them
without hymn, without flag
is this independence?!
no! It is just a ruin
of starving crowds
and of commanders
of concentration camps
of extermination

November 11
Of the liberation fight still
no begun

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (61). I am again in the prison to the wait that they free me

They embarked me in a ship
without jasmines
But even so I will perfume the seas
And in them forever I will record my name
in their waves

And in my eternal silence
I will avenge the desires of our past
and ancestors
In the Universe I will make a temple
so that the future navigators
Adore me and remember
even in a fleeting moment
That I existed, I loved… I tried but I was not loved

I won't fall asleep deeply
during one century, two or more
When the endocolonialism to globalise
I will wake up and I will cut into pieces them
and I will leave them my eternal fragrance

I will renew our blue blood
and I will extirpate the graves of the FAMILY
billionaire
And in them I will replant the aromas
of our bodies
lawns, greenish, of petals vegetated
After having watered with a storm
divine

This new seed will flood the Universe
I will be, the goddess's mermaid Angola
In the Earth of the pain reborn, undone
hostage of the King's palace no elect
of tumultuous future

Free and independent of the terrorism
bank and real estate
I will avenge the children's innocent glance
Killed of hunger, of diseases
Without ceilings, condemned
for the inclement, marshy
rainy stations

And the endocolonialist in the windows
Nazis take delight with the slaughter
but they won't survive
And million million
of dollars they will recover

And the towers, and the condominiums
and the buildings that stole us
also

And the children without graves
they will dream about my petals
And there will be an infantile war
That it will devastate the new demented
Gentlemen, false doctors

And when my lips kiss
the children
they will resurrect
And they will become jasmines
and in the ship of the genius of the jasmines
they will be transported for my kingdom
I will build my nocturnal beauty
in the history of our skies
and I will be worshipped Jasmine-give-night

I will hover in the magic of our mountains
and I will renew, I will free the Roads
of the monarchic dictatorship
there we will be

the wounds of our misfortune
they are as infected rocks
because Angola rejuvenated
he continues very good refuge
for criminals and adventurers
Where the destinies are easy
of imagining

I am again in the prison
to the wait that they free me

For the visas
I will never find the love

I will dance to the sound of the wind
in spite of abandoned, of my paradise
moved away
It was supplied, now in the forced poverty
of the multinationals and of the royal family
these inhuman ones are our perdition
Light, manufactured without weight
as the immodest bread

I am Black, because the ships were White
It is suddenly everything darkened
he grew dark

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (60). Jasmine without Cottage

Abandoned in a tent (?) without street, nude
spoiled somewhere in the Golf of Guinea
I lost the encounter, the millenarian charm
The silence, the ardour and my sweet glance
No longer I get more to cry

I keep apart the moonlight of my hair
in the river, dominated by the Mister of the cottages
Here lies the silence of their margins
Only, in the moonlight of the nights
I won't get more to love

I adore the silence of the mornings
and the sonority of the leaves of the plants
the rain falls me on top
I am planted at a desert
it is this that he sees himself on the whole side
this is the balance of the fight without liberation
of the upstarts' oppression
of the rottenness of these rich ones

I await the goddess Kalunga
that he resurrect of the bottom of the waters
and alert the genius of the jasmines
of the cottages
to change
to perfume
Everyday with and without tomorrows
I scream for the new settlers
I await the avenging sword
She Liberator!

Suddenly they contribute the ships
already before navigated
They left with new exiled
but, they returned of the Westerner civilization
and again
they banish me of the cottages

He lived with the flowers, with the jasmines
yellows, blue, brilliant
emperors, of the rivers
of the poets, stars, green, red

I asked God of the forests
that it navigated me in a ship done of jasmines
That it fecundated me in his semen
in a deep forest of jasmines

It is in the morning when the moon wakes up
of her nocturnal sleep
she will find me to sing
And she will do a statue of me
And it will turn off, she won't leave tracks
of these tyrants' graves

I will be the sowing of the new love
that my Angola lost
lost, sunk in the multinationals
of the new property gentlemen
I will water myself with the tears
of our unhappy people
Without love
subdued, spoiled, chained
Enslaved by the millionaire children
of the King

I will be sanctified by the genius
of the in love ones in Angola
finally freed
And the birds they will fly always in my pollen
and forever I will be blessed
The perfume of my pistil will be immortalized
and next days
Our freedom will be praised

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (59). The criminal of everything is the sea

The windows of the waves of the sea opened up of pair in equal
They flooded the History
sacred of the high sea, they walk out of me.

Alive in a sea without roses
The sand gets wet, she extends, she goes to bed, and it is swayed
To return to the that was always, not to the that is
I walk for… I go downstairs
Another big wave grew, it is another seaquake

In Gandhi the intelligence prevailed, and it expired.

The cholera was exasperated, she wanted to drain, it lacked him liquidity. The sky aided her, she sent him rain hip-hop. She already sacrificed more than three thousand. She contaminated, easily it will contaminate.

Upstarts Politburo of bad note thin in the adventures of the festivities, dispossessed boxes, increased in volume with notes of a hundred dollars.

Religious sects order to throw in the sea the died spirits. Many wandering souls hover under the waters. They say that she cannot go to those beaches because the lost souls we frighten.

The Politburo when they go for their cars, or of them they leave, they make him with immense caution. They peep for the whole side, with fear that the Orphans attack them. The Politburo always has safeties armed Jingola that protect them.

For the direction that the things take, they walk, with the leaders that govern the world, it is one more civilization, this of the global times, that it disappears. It is notable the intellectuals' ostracism Jingola, they seem insane, conniving. Where are their brains? Probably lost at the concrete forests.

Yes, they stopped thinking, because no longer they have forests, trees, it lacks them the oxygen purifier that feeds the thought.

I prepared my bikini, the arch and arrows.

I don't know where I am, what is, I think I got lost in the time, or the time lost me. What will be, what will belong to me?!

They are going me to plasticise in the civilization of the sack of plastic.

Jingola… where any cat-dripped adventurer, he is doctor, engineer.
Jingola of the ministers and vice ministers. Where has a lot of command voices, he gets lost the command.

The criminal of everything is the sea, he made the civilizations to keel over, to colonize.
It hid me the oak, the quetzal, and Manitou. It rejoiced me with Kalunga, mukeka, (fish stew or shellfish*), and missosso… (tale, history*) it Consoled me with to Cross… he neo-colonialism me.

* in Dictionary Houaiss
Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (58). Can a slave be free? Never! It passes of a slavery for other.

The White civilization entered well in the other civilizations alleging that they were inferior, savages, that they converted in ritual human sacrifices. With these justifications they invaded us and they submitted us to the slavery. They asked them always: where is the golden, where are the diamonds, where are the emeralds? The people didn't give value the those things. They worried in loving the gods of his nature and of the Nature.

Invoking the nicknamed savages' human sacrifices, they began the slaughter of thousands, of million. Without possible comparison with the rituals of the bodies that were offered to the gods of the destroyed civilizations. The White civilising just wanted to steal and everything served them and it serves as excuse. They exterminated civilizations that disappeared of the History, remaining some copies that badly remember than he happened with their ancestors.

It was like this with the Mayan, Aztecs, Inca, Hindu, Islamite’s, Indians from the United States of America, Indians from Brazil and the Blacks. Here it is an extraordinary anecdote: the White civilization defended that this people walked nude. They dressed any thing for if they cover. They didn't know what was clothing, for that they said that they were very primitive. But their eyes threw lewdness sparkles for the nude breasts and for the bodies of the native ones.

Them, and especially them, the White ones, gave in the views that the heat was too much and they offered their almost nude bodies, imitating the savages of body dark, brunet, blackened, sensual, and appetizing of the mysterious colour of the African moonlight.

They were compensated, knowingly deceived with the freedom of the enfranchisement letter. The subject is: can a slave be free? Never! It passes of a slavery for other. The slave is free but it is not freed, he doesn't get to survive because they didn't give him access the any instruction, the any profession. He should demand that privilege. But as, if he doesn't know how to read, he doesn't know how to write. In this condition, to free is to neo-enslave.

This that happened with the independence in Africa was. Educated African opportunists in the White civilization, struggled for the independence, they promised well-being to their people, they ran with the settlers, later they remembered that the Whites before they be banished, they should be some time for us to leave the Blacks the necessary professions for us to maintain the countries in the normality.

Anyway the White civilization supported that abandonment. They knew with sarcasm that an inapt crowd of slaves would satisfy the continuation of their desires. In the colonial administration some fell crumbs, in the neo-colonialism that initials stopped existing. It was substituted for other: the profit of the spilling and of the spoliation of the cottages. It is easier, he neither gives work nor nuisances to explore. It is for that that it is said that the hunger is not white, it is black.

It resounds me in the memory the priestly homily of the stigma of the three C, the social perversion of the desires easy of the feminine: she marries, car and bank account.

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (57). First the business, later the love.

When the hunger presses, the wolves get off the mountains. The humans affirm categorically that they are animal very dangerous that should be depressed. Efforts are mobilized, the wild animals are famished, they defend for us to survive, the humans also. These humans destroyed the place where the wolves lived and they ate. What difference does have between the wolves and the humans? Only one: the wolves lived peacefully before the humans to arrive. Will there be more dangerous wild animal than the human being? No, no there is!
Which is the species that deserves to be extinguished? "The biped ones! ". Which?!

Those that take oath when the ring is put them in the finger that:
And after the marriage, of the love promises for a lifetime to her lover, they will exercise their weapons in the poor and defenceless animals for us to prove his virility. For us to offer the trophies of hunt of the inglorious unhappiness. On that day pomp’s and villages are thrown. One nobler horseman was built. The Horsemen of the Temple rejoice. One more statue will be erected. The best, which more killed, which more hunger and suffering provoked… it receives as prize a statue and a foundation. During a thousand years or plus, their followers will proclaim that he invented the love. Blood will be spilled, a thousand times unrestricted. All will lift their swords to the air and before oath they will say: this vein of the skies, and forever it will be blessed.

Of the stones that remain of the Earth a gigantic sword it will appear, as enormous as the Universe, all to they will see. And they will say: that great laser beam got to become distracted. It is suddenly, after the great sword that arose in the Universe, she goes down on the Earth and he gets hurt in the great Ocean. The Earth splits, she opens up in two and the end begins. Everything that human being is dragged, healthy billions of bodies swallowed for the abyss. The end of the human species, end of the Creation.

Thunders appear in the sky. Psalms are sung. Spaceships, the such flying saucers, fly over what remains of the Earth. The ones that were always called of God, finally they accomplish the prophecies. They went down, and here they are, here they arrived. They come of invisible garments that the one that the humans implore, dresses as the snow. There is a lot that they were among us, but blind as we are, never the we noticed. What for? Because if we were just satisfied in cursing, to do badly! And they were there… always disguised in the snow.

And us, in the eternal superiority of the elect race… we received the divine order, of exterminating everything to be within our reach. It is been more no we exterminated, was because we didn't get, because we were already full. But there was always somebody that didn't get tired… those tireless ones that they received the last instructions. Some scanty ones or she wasteful coins were enough, and there it went the little that it remained of the biology.

Some species insisted on resisting to the extinction, as those crazy poor that still insisted on believing in the love. They insisted on the call of attention, being immolated like Romeo and Juliet. Of anything it served them, because it was one more episode of the human tragicomedy. The humans got tired of the love.

Unless if it won with that… that of that to win money with some report of TV in direct. The business was more important. Of here the humans dug a famous maxim: first the business, later the love. They got dressed, and later they undressed when they invented to lingerie. They proved that without this is not possible to do love. The fetishes are necessary, to wake up the animal instinct. In the jungles of the castles of the human walls, an animal peeps us in each battlement. Day and night the arrows are thrown at random. The oppressors protect her, the malefactors live in his shadow, the hungry persons live of the arrows. But oh of the ones that they escape from the arrows, because the certain arrows of Ulysses are always to the wait.

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (56). Chinese communism that gets ready subtlety to conquer

The love, are many feelings, which of them should follow? We usually dove in the feeling of the meat, later we cursed ourselves for the choice. We finished in the eternal doubt, we don't know what is to love, and we don't know what the love is. In the rites of the marriage, the priest prevent: "on this day they unite the fullness of the eternal times. Be shown tolerant when if they provoke. Stay firm in the love, in the many moments difficult and momentary happy."

It is as the friendship. I had many but I never got to discover who was of facto becomes friends. I also had many friends, I was also without to know which belonged faithful to them. It is continued like this in this anguish of the august eternal. And everything finishes, it is recomposed, everything turns to the that was already.
Blessed to God those instants that remind me, that they always accompanied me, but that only now noticed.

They went with the embarrassments of the adversity in the heads. To the quitundulos (push to move away somebody of the road. In dictionary Houaiss) they hurried. There was not time to lose. The destiny of the candies is very fast, macabre. The death is very patient, he knows how to wait. She doesn't worry a lot, because she knows that all seek her. She always has a vague room in the eternity.

We will return to the forests, we will accomplish our destiny, our odyssey. They defrauded us the quitutes (refined foods). We are going to Kalunga, we returned to our roots, to the reunion of the time of Aymaras, in the temple of the Lake Titicaca.
Before the settlers' arrival, Aymara lived happy in the Lake Titicaca.

Then they confined us, they camped us, they concentrated us in walled fields. Still many walls exist, now in the democratic dictatorships of contention. And they promise that they will always exist. It guarantees like this him the Chinese communism that gets ready subtlety to conquer, to impose to the world a political system and economic outdated. More walls of the hunger, of the barbed wire, electrified. The monuments of the suffering of the civilization: Auschwitz-Tsirkenau, Neuengamme, Bergen-Belsen, Mittelbaudora, Buchenwald, Flossenberg, Natzweiler, Ravensbruk, Sachsenhausen, Terezin, Dachau, Mauthausen, Stutthof, Chelmno, Gross-Rosen, Treblinka, Sobibor, Lublin-Maidanek, Belzec, Plaszow. The fields of Valerian Weyler, Nisei, Stalin, of the marshal of British field, Roberts, and of his successor Kitchener.

If I am hungry and don't I have anything to eat, what badly did do? Because they don't give me food? Alive among people or with irrational beings? I hope Zeus puts an end shortly to this. Some - the minority - they deserve to live. Most is for Jingola to see. But, who does to live deserve?

Put our pictures there in your murals of the hunger for they remember us. Of more victims than they tried to cross the walls cruelty of the shameful hunger and they didn't get. Now they imposed us the modern fields of the concentration of the global hunger, globalisation.

The day appears, it clears up, one plus, other time without hope. One more day of hunger. What will eat today? I don't know! We don't know, nobody knows, nobody wants to know. It is like this our life. It is this the legacy of the white man's civilization. Hunger! Always hunger! The civilization of the hunger. We are not part of the History, they lost us in her.

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic poem of the Darkness (55). Will valid elections be with generals in the power?

When it is revolutionized without libraries, the alive ones - libraries - they are depreciated, depersonalized.
The wicked was already kind. He came with kindness, he saw so much cruelty…
The human being's facet more subtle is the unhealthy betrayal, pathology of the reason. Flooded of scorers, his mind doesn't have flavour, nor colour.
I got ready for the fragility of the sleep of the night. Does God exist or does it subsist?
The shock of the humanism with the human jungle is as an infested sea of sharks.
Is there some legal war? Are the wars legal? Is to invade a country legal? No… it is the lethal lethargy.

We are properly prepared for us to be neocolonized. Servants serve medieval again.
Not having ideals humanists the nation’s dismays.
The Bible, the French Revolution and Marx they impelled the History. Billions of deads testify us.
When the general budget of an absolute kingdom is approved, it is voted for the continuation of the poverty in the generality.
We are a factory of ambulatory garbage. Where arrived, we were, we landed, left everything sanded. Our minds manufacture dirt’s.
The population with dedication falsifies documents. It accomplishes the duty, the address of the executive power, forger to can.
The false power is narcotic, it numbs, and it falls asleep.
When the prices of the petroleum go up the banks increase. When the prices lower too much, the banks also.

There are people that ascend to the slavery. There are people that will always dominate.
I prefer a thousand times to live humiliated in the settlers' homeland of what to die to the hunger in my kingdom.
When a damned one dies get happy the hearts, because the cruelty decreased. It is short sun, another is born, and great cries and sadness are reborn.
The death proves that no there is nobody indispensable.
When a kingdom doesn't have highways, she travels on tiptoe.
The vulgar of us, about who doesn't know to do anything else, especially the lazy ones, it invents, it celebrates the dolce far niente.
Zebra, where do you go? Without feet, without legs, without skulls!
The infantile and juvenile behaviour is the adults' mirror. THE behaviour zebra mirrors the other animals.
To survive, the easiest is to resell.

With words democratic spirit the next ruler is chosen, but what works with resolution is not chosen.
With so much prostitution and drug, it is not possible to move forward, to get better.
No longer there are instants, everything is distant.
The arrogance, inhumanity, disrespect for the human life, and the militarism of the powerful ones, they strengthen the communism, Islamism and the terrorism.
A government is entitled of defending of the internal and external attacks.
Will valid elections be with generals in the power?
We were born to drink, only the alcohol frees us.
When a millionaire eulogizes… it eulogized the services rendered during an outstanding subordinate's thirty years, and later he dismisses alleging him that it was insignificant, that millionaire man deserves to be sacked with serpents and thrown in the sea.

The storms that devastate are us the ignominy, the desert of the human indignity.
To destroy a city, it is not necessary a war.
I don't know that side the kindness is. She and the cruelty felt the hands.
Who lives happy, it is because he made somebody to be unhappy.

Image: Angola em fotos

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (54). In the battles of the life of all of the times, the love is without a doubt the most terrible.

The secret bank accounts are for some. The hungry persons' bank has many deposits to period.
I fear that tie me the thought.
Many generals little democracy.
The religious sects give us the fallen food of the sky, the great corporations remove us the petroleum.
Friendly! Of the high of this palace million of hungry persons we meditate.
I feel in the prison as Monte Christ's Count, of there will leave.
If a family has a country under hand and having elections, that calls her intestine war.

If the kindness appears of the religious sects, then we are slave of the lie.
Everything has an exit, it is enough to find, to seek the Road.
I am just one of the billions, a victim of the poverty, of the hunger, of the human cruelty.
The things don't see each other, they sit down.
Look at the leaves of a plant. Everything ends and it resumes in a seed.
The extreme drink the wisdom. It is for that that the drunks are wise persons.

And the Government finally decided: it decreed benefits for the hungry persons and exemption of taxes: it rewarded them with water, electricity, health, books, house, clothing, automobile, credit card, etc.
I never supposed, but I saw a country with silent political opposition.
The human animals escaped from the zoo, it is for that that we lived in the jungle.
Who governs badly overcomes the mire.
The bad children are as the bad governments. When we waited for them in a misfortune say in the sarcastic ones that they spent the money in banquets.
Never to believe in mulattos, blacks and whites. They defend the same beginnings, but they differ in the ends: they abase the treasury and state. At night all of the cats are mulatto.

They are medieval the sounds presents in the nights of the electoral dreams.
In the battles of the life of all of the times, the love is without a doubt the most terrible.
The demagogy is the weapon atomic of the politics.
There are people that were born to build, others were born to destroy.
Our libraries are alcoholic. They are equipped with the worst masters of the world viniculture
The hate, the corruption, the racism, the alcoholism is bad counsellors.
The corruption is the law. The laws protect the legislators.
The time changes, the times change, the people no.
Our streets are immense stagnated slavers.
The absolute kings persevere, they don't end. It is the inflation reigning.
The injustices and the hunger feed revolutions. Great ships, great storms.

To govern is to command. The leadership is not imposed, he is born naturally.
Do I read many books for something?! Don’t the books give me money, do they give me waste of time?! But don't I want money! Only wisdom to understand because you waste the time in the money!
The Humanity's History? They were born, they lived and they died in the cruelty.
And all were arrested of the cruelty, because the kindness had finished. As a river in the prison of a great dam.
After the storm it comes other.
Ornamental democracy is: if it steals a bread receive the grace of the prison.
Thousands of light-year to struggle against the hunger, and we didn't get to win her. The best economic stabilization is to also kill the people to the hunger… and the most effective way to combat the inflation.
He doesn't get lost time with readings. The time is to exaggerate, to bargain, and to carry for the new metropolises.

Image: Angola em fotos