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, 7 de dezembro de 2009

The Epic poem of the Darkness (79). They are not urban legends, it is the king's reality, of the crooked real boss

I listen everyday the alienation of the government:
“Our petroleum and diamonds"
We struggled against the Western colonialism
Now we struggled against the Angolan colonialism
I repeat them! Don't kill because they will also be died!

In the church without manna asked me to offer them
a car of passengers, that later God would feel everything
Them for us to drink, them for they undress and they dress

I leaned my beauty in the shoulder of the soft tree
As a very tired traveller
perspiring the African heat
of the burning oppressor
I lied down looking at the sky
I fell asleep and I woke up before the moon to say good-bye

My country was independent
Before he lived with a white, later we married
Only the names that called me!

When the thought is inconvenient
the doors of the censorship and of the racism they open up
We shot the books for the garbage alleging that they were obliging
of the imperialism and of the capitalism
they didn't serve the communism
We walked, we walked and no we stopped
we tried the literacy, we fell in the solitude

I am somewhere at the country of the nowhere
They tell me that I am as the flies
to survive
As the remains of the food that send me
I am the people that voted for in the continuation
in the forgetfulness of the slavery

I don't know nor I can guess
My goddess doesn't wake up
of the mirror without image
I will listen her voice again
handcuffed in the margin of the green grass
of the river with fish oil tanker
and in the surface of the water of the sea

The ruins of the military confrontations
they were to the thousands
We struggled to raise, to rebuild
we continued without getting
We got lost in the time of the ideologies
We led in the exams of the democracies
They are not urban legends, it is the reality
of the king, of the crooked real boss

Image: Angola em fotos

Sem comentários: