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.

sexta-feira, 13 de novembro de 2009

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
insistent labour
of the messages, of the habits

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
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
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

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