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.

quinta-feira, 31 de dezembro de 2009

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (87). Me, the President chose myself, I imposed myself to govern

For the world peace to stabilize, the empires should teach
to use our participating administration

The electronics files where they stay
the words, the secret passes of the easy fortunes
In this Angola that is not mine who enriches it steals
and to steal is so easy
It is enough to belong or to become friends to the family in the power
And they are born condominiums, they break the domains
of the cottages
The bonus of the businesses, ignominies is received
Lament a lot, but I think I should not be despised

For here it doesn't exist safe, everything is insecure
When my President speaks to the nation, it seems that it is in UN
With very educated words, it exhorts our culture
the lack of culture of the hunger omits her.
Ah! The hunger, that is of the competence of the international agencies
Me, the President chose myself, I imposed myself to govern
To receive the high individualities that they land in our palaces
And to speak… and to speak that inside of next years, always the same ones
we will struggle, we will make any thing
Fearless and it doesn't calm the epidemic of the hunger ballasts, he extends as the deserts

So fragile it seems my body in the fortress of my beauty

The sea curled in symphony
With the black clouds of IMF seeming rain
The nature moved around. He ordered the preparations
the desire among so many already comes absentees
See you later, until tomorrow among liquors
that they get lost for a thread

The damned human destroys the marine food
The marines, sailors in earth seek the human life for feeding
The starving fins for they are not extinguished
If some thing in my house come to enter, it is right that will assault me

My laundress life didn't end
So much clothes that I took, washed, and the sun didn't dry
I should walk half-naked, nude for a foreigner to date
If some food home wants to take
I am not a prostitute, I am a submarine that uses to ballast
My ghastly silence is an act electoral, of the situation

I don't know what don't want
I dressed a hipper mini-skirt adventurer, bivalve border
A friend prevented the incautious ones and he wrote in my bifurcation:
"Danger! High tension! AIDS! Any one is to sit down in my electric chair”

The formation easiest of the profitable slavery: to carry in the trigger

Ah! That now in this other power liberator of you black
I dispute the vultures a string of food

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