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.

segunda-feira, 23 de novembro de 2009

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

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