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.

terça-feira, 26 de janeiro de 2010

The Epic Poem of the Darkness (112). The more ignorance better government. One more nation, another oppression

My teacher studied me in the shames, re-examinations of our deceiving tragedy. No longer he has value his memory of so equal, abnormal liberation
Of this no analgesic cultured governess in I manufacture him of corpse’s inquisitorial. Saint Church Services of the Manuals Medium no updated, notebooks, greasy
This is not of a, of any, the all belong!
They were covered in the system from where nobody escapes from the concentrated fields
Stalinism’s, resigned in the wait of malicious Minotaur
Violence that the happens one happens to all, to all

The death. Psychopathologic ritual, in this habitual fashion. They died in the inglorious concentration
Cousins, father, brother. Assaulted house, car. A malarial crisis chronicles

He condescended, he already drank, it ascended to the earthy paradise
The prow of the strong wind sways him original, marginal
"This wind north, rural, blows strong without east
It is orientated by the tyranny that consumes us, imported alcoholic wind
unfortunate, for the ordered government. Nor here I am calmed
Imported alcohol… out I am inebriated
Ó wind of the Jasmine because you push me like this?
That navigation… they let to cheat me the mast
The wind lost the head. Mine is slow, normal, rough
Is the drink with me, or me with her? "
It will rain! Drops are to consent!
"Ah! it is her finishes purchase that they did. Import of clouds. Imported rain
A lot of rain, winds, hurricanes, hurricanes, typhoons. The sky is flooded of drunk souls"
Ai!ai!ai! He looks at that drunk of the motorized ran over the child. Hê!hê!hê!.. Did it kill her!?
"A lot of deaths, few births. Demographic deficit. One more import…
Reproducers balance the race."
With so many cows to graze on thereabout?
"Dipodous of easy import."

I became used to, it felt him as a tombstone

Them, ruler’s passer-bys, announcers of the precocious, precarious vanity
He refrain the streets, powerful in the errant metallic horsemen's speakers
They open passage to a, the other, the other pretentious macrocephalous
They were not the sanctions, they would be car-concepts with atomics missiles
Appropriate to repaint the picture, many pictures of the block Guernica
They would do, but they do, a gale of my sale shakes her

Dived, submerged in the submarine of the sacred alcohol
And they promise the habitual but we already know that they never accomplish it
To return to the promises, to the instalment to the exhaustion
To return to the tithes, to the decimation
of this no transparent, insolvent government
Determined short term in the urgent dissolution of our cottages

The elements of the laments of the incurable congestion
The ghosts exist, they subsist, and they pursue me in my dreams
The more ignorance better government
Glory to the descendants of the hypocrisy in the Earth
A liberation movement, a cloth piece as flag, a student of hymns, a rhymester, cannon shots.
One more nation. Another oppression


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