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, 22 de janeiro de 2010

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (108). The great monkeying rehearsed the first palaces of the irresponsible freedom

Angola doesn't have future, he walks very fast for the suicide collective

The opposition is also bogey of the vile metal. Between these and the power
they don't have difference, only the fight exists of having
The oil-producing increases, the alcohol also
It drives the empty minds full of parties
In the university with new obligatory chair: merrymakings
Where the opposition dandy searches new words for the egocentric objective
Nobody hears them, they pay attention
Absorbed, dominated by the noisy that it never stops, musical death rattle
Without family, he dissolved as a tree started by the root
Law and order? Only disorder! Theological hypocrisy: to finish a war to begin other
Amazed with the cruelty, spirituous with the ignorance. Touching!
Amazement with so many obligations without solutions. I need the most important, to read
To read? Billions with deformed brains, do hungry persons read books? No!
Without brain and without money to eat is not possible to read
They are stopped selling billions of books. Incalculable damages
An example of the anarchy to create parking place. Some stones are put in the public road. The ruling comrade sharpens the prehistoric weapon of flint
Imposing, with airs of having modernized, learned

When there are national prizes of culture and art
The families of the octopus win us without tentacles
That terrifying grace: the communists copied the methods of the government salazarista
They returned to the salazarismo, to the city capital disordered
and to the provinces in the Medium Age
My Angola no! Republic ONG yes!
In the peak of the exploration and slavery. Of abandoned people to her bad luck


The whitewashed building of white, hygienic, was of the Whites
I occupied, we occupied him in agreement with the freedom of the popular power
New life in the buildings that we conquered. They don't belong more to the settler
They belong us, everything now is ours. Only mine! Only yours!
I will enjoy my independence a lot. Live the socialism! Live the popular power!
I broke into the door, I wrote in the wall to the entrance, BUSY MPLA
The Whites left beautiful things, they are mine, foppish!
Did they leave the one what stole us (?)
I glued a bikini, mini-skirt ultra tans, mirrored myself and I went mad me
I will celebrate, to walk my vanity

They don't finish the feasts, according to my desires
The time passed, I felt that something… it never returned. Suddenly everything ended
The trump card, victory of the illiteracy arrived
The buildings, the building, flooded in the sovereign will the desire to self-destroy
The water, the light, the elevator, they were not the whites that took them. It was the revolution that sank them, that everything took
Electrics drivers, switches, fuses, lamps for revolutionary consumption
They went of the stairways to the habituated hands, sweated in these adventures
of the eclectic cannibals, electrics
In the motor of the elevator he lodged revolutionary resident, happy with the cottage to the disposal
To defecate in a paper, piling up it in the deck of the street

The small old house of service of the elevator forced millimetrical to welcome five glorious unexpected tenants of joy for the cottage. New owners timeless that get confused with the garbage
That they overstep, they illuminate the devastated landscape of the countless residual of the whites.
Steps of the stairways left by dragging of the partisans stone jugs of gas. But just for the pleasure to destroy, I begin of self-destroying
In the terrace it is alleged to build a Bantu traditional palace
With architecture perfectly natural. Wood, boards, metallic foils
Daydreamed thereabout to the he will god-give, or where to approve
The exits of the waters stop working, they are been dazzling, and forced decide another direction
They invade the bass neighbour’s house, and in the following
The one of the palace confronted Bantu, imbecile and rabble, inhumanly, invokes:
"The fault is of the Nature, I didn't order to rain him”

The great monkeying rehearsed the first palaces of the irresponsible freedom

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