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.

domingo, 22 de novembro de 2009

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
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

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