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, 19 de maio de 2011

My son


When the politicians speak
keeps silent
They don't get tired of they wrap us
But it will arrive the hour and you will be listened

At night don't fear the shadows of the trees
On the contrary, it congratulates you for the moonlight
That half-open you, that offer you
Because in the times that run
We should thank such sublime divine gift

When you come a hungry person to pass to your side
Don't despise him. He indicates the road that waits
The ones that diverted malicious the flows of the wealth
That don't belong them

Daily you will hear many songs of promises
of the same music played on the whole side
They will always exist many musicians, many mystics
But few will be listened

In the storm of the cities learns how to walk among the crowds
Then it moves away you and it observes them
You will see a circus with a lot of joke

In the a lot of hours idle bill the time that you have to live
You will see after many years passed
And that you won't have more spare times
To recover the lost time

If you know a lot of people, you won't know none
If you don't know deeply one of them
To the discovery of the illusion

When finally only and abandoned
reminds you that your parents
In the tomb silence they await your company
And they will always be with you

Above all learns, it defends you of the thieves
And of the banks that steal lands

Never the Humanity's History
overfilled of thieves as now
That will be presented in holocaust
And they fake that nothing knows, that nothing does

quarta-feira, 18 de maio de 2011

Oppressive horizons


The times and the calamities are more violent than never, the people also.
And after so much end of the poverty proclaimed, suddenly she increases a lot. Short term, the profession (!) of politician, just as the one of dictator it will finish.
The highways of the life are very obscure. He had been able to, the corrupt ones diverted the budgets.
Do I look at the horizon and the one what see? The almost forty year-old dictatorship to graze on always at the same ranch.
The dictators are always to preach that they don't have money. But when they are dropped of the power, they are convinced that will never be it, and it is for that reason that they are dictators, easily he sees himself that they have billions of dollars in secret bills.
When the illiteracy drives the government, we consider dictatorship for the right.
To spoil the wealth of the country and the population and of the personal wealth to boast, here is the dictator's platitude.
We are always picked unexpectedly, barefoot and nude, before the promises of a new life and of a hilarious future.
Our life is a constant pilgrimage, until that finally found the final destiny of the eternal oasis.
During our wandering life in this earth, we observed the mornings daily and you be born them, the tears and the smiles of the beginning and of the end.
One of the fundamental things of ours to live is the constant projects, the one that held on to with braveness. And everything follows her normal course, until that suddenly something always happens, and that we became used to say always unexpectedly… the death.



segunda-feira, 16 de maio de 2011

The temple of the lost love


And after a lot to play, of tiring, the child runs: he waits for her her mother's love.

Maintain the fire of the candle of the love lit. It is the only, the last thing that remains us. Therefore, walk to the candle.

The best toy that you can give the a child is another child.

If you get to conquer the populations, you will never lose a war and you will win the elections.

They are visible the governments' efforts for us to put the populations in the poverty.

Who doesn't have stuff for political, he doesn't also have fortress for any collision. And to sweep the streets of a city is not unworthy for anybody, on the contrary.

The death separates us, but the love no. The power of the death doesn't overcome the eternity of Taj-Mahal of the love.

No, it is not true! Formerly we could speak and our love to love. That such funereal, so irrational, so immoral Angolan times, of such cadaverous loves.

The most important is the honesty. Without her it is not possible to live, to love. While the corrupt ones insist on the power, the love will die.

And millions of human beings met in caravans, of travellers pilgrims. Gigantic human waves steered in the direction of the temple of the lost love.

The child sleeps showing in the face the expression of the happiness. It is that the child dreams about the angel of the love.

Thousand and a sport championships are invented that they flood stadiums with avid crowds for they participate in such events. But the stadium of the world championship of the love is always emptiness, without spectators.





sexta-feira, 13 de maio de 2011

Six years already passed you in the time of the eternity


It has been six years that you navigate in the river of the time of the eternity.
After you free yourself of the hurricanes, volcanoes and of the other human storms.
You don't seek the eternal rest in vain, because he was already granted you.
And we always died in the frustration of the non liberation of the human hypocrisy.
The clique of the oil companies imposes us their rules modified never: life or death. We chose living, and you of the petroleum, ours to die.
An oil well is much more valuable than millions of our lives.
He continues to navigate in that river of tame waters, far away from this foolish.
The Human History is made by a handful of heroes and crowds of ghosts.
That the river of the eternity leads you to the lake of the happiness, and there rest under the lightness and the purity of the solar reflexes, of the gold and silver paintings. And of the soft to agitate of the youth of the green leaves always relating to springs.
While we for here travelled the incessant roads of the sadness of our lives, where everything is composed of cruelty.
We were able to, we are entitled, of we live at a love lake, but no, there is still who dreams and impose us, the lake of the hell.
The sorcery of the life is there that our love lives.

sábado, 7 de maio de 2011

Three years in the eternity


You won't return more, but your smiles, your voice they stay, as well as the charms of your sweet glance.
Your spirit hovers in our sad minds, always in the memory that you put in the love, always in the concern of your immense attention.
The death is the memory of the life, which the alive ones sit down.
The powder of the time accompanies the death and there all will meet. All have an insured room, there is no hurry. Everything is composed of death. However we are going living in the illusion of the life, while the hug of the death is always made present. It seems that we insisted on living, as if he never happened dying.
But the sweet memories feed our inspirations. The life is a tenuous moment of an impossible dream, because the death if it puts upon him.
It is the fuel of the love that inaugurates the life. Our emotions are the unrestricted desires of the incomprehension of the love.
The paradise is, therefore, the death, the liberation of the bestiality of the life.
The ship of the destiny the waters, and in their main rails we leaned over in the thoughtful ones, reliving the undone dreams, steering in the only certainty that afflicts us: the death.
He rests in peace in the lake, in the vegetation and in the surrounding mountains. And that her ephemeral beauty accompanies you, greet you. That us alive, no matter how much we do will never win any battle of the army of the death.




sexta-feira, 6 de maio de 2011

A butterfly smiling at a flower


I came to the world to be loved, and for that I demand a lot of love. All of the affections that offer me will never be too many, because I am super demanding. But easily I move myself and I fall asleep deeply, when I lean myself in the soft, homelike, hot and my dear mammy's suits breasts. I trust in everything and in all, because I still don't know how to distinguish where it is the danger, the cruelty and the kindness. I hope they let to live me in peace. I know that it is impossible, but they give me an opportunity.
Above all watch one of my worst enemies, the paedophile, wolf, bad kitten.
It is easy to imagine that my dreams won't become reality, because a bugbear will deceive myself, and never my dream if it will accomplish.
The butterflies are very beautiful, I don't get tired of pursuing them, but even so I never get to pick none. They have magic.
Alive in the children's planet where is very easy to play, in the one of the adults, her planet doesn't give for games, he has very dangerous things, we cannot move in anything, at any moment they can become disabled.
This world of the adults doesn't render, they always walk the if it kills. I am very sad because I am going growing and abandoning my world of playing, until the one of the adults to arrive.
The adults only know how to struggle, there is a lot that they ignore what is to play.
Our infantile world lasts few years, it should never end, and the adults' world is so crazy. Is nobody capable tying?
All of the children are my friends, the adults are my enemies, and because they never let to do me what I want.
To live in the adults' world is to live in the oppression.
I will speak to my friends butterflies for they take me, of here they carry. They already gave me wings; I will fly for very far, where there are not adults. I am going to the planet of the butterflies. I will become butterfly and to smile for the flowers.

quinta-feira, 5 de maio de 2011

To the four winds of the love


In the glorious times everything was made by love. Now, daily, it is bought and he sells himself everything on behalf of the love.

Formerly we went up the stairways of the love full of joy, effortlessly, happy because slaves of him. Today, totally hopeless, of so much acquired frustration, we lost the forces and we didn't get to say, I love you!

Formerly, we did a fidelity fortress of the love, of harmony, and the love corresponded, he showed in our hearts. Today we escaped from the love, as if he was our worst enemy.

The times change, the love also. On these times of the democracy of the love, he is also going to votes. Until they did of the love one more political party.

On those golden times one lived the love without barriers. Now, the love is so popularized, as any merchandise, that until already smugglers of weapons sell him.

Formerly the fire of the love didn't fade, because the love fed her. Today we are unable to guarantee the fuel that it maintains what remains of that fire. The love fades.

There was a time in that the love imposed the power, her splendour. Nowadays, the love was adulterated so much, that of so rotten that it is if he speaks openly: the two, the corruptor and the rotten of the love.

Formerly the doors of the love opened up loud, of pair in equal. Now they close tightly because no longer nothing exists nor nobody to love.

quarta-feira, 4 de maio de 2011

Mr. William Tonet, director of the newspaper Folha8, and the constants death threats


Luanda. During the week I was invaded by a virus of threatening attacks in my electronic mail, in the telephone and office, on the part of flatterers, that you were put as if they were or, maybe be even, auxiliaries of the President. In all of the occasions the tone was of: "or you stop or you die". You are "to speak too much on the comrade president".… you are "Already to abuse a lot! That is respect lack, her flunky of CIA". "If you are American then it is going to the United States to live for there and he leaves us alone". If you don't stop we still make you the bed". "We will kill you and when the Americans arrive you will already be merchandise". "If you don't want to live where there is corruption, then it is going to your new country, beside Bush and Obama". You "have envy because you are not head". They weigh these threats, I won't give up on to struggle and to resist against who, to continue to suck the wealth of the country, he has the spotted hands of blood of the million of Angolan murdered in series, namely after the May 27, 1977. But, also, I won't give up, even if that costs me the life, for believing ANGOLA AND THE ANGOLAN ones are not any leader's property.

terça-feira, 3 de maio de 2011

Lost in the Occident of the bewildered time


The life is as a mountain of your moments and gentle desires. He learns how to climb her and it preserves her.
Who everything wants everything loses, it is said. But the oil companies want everything and they don't lose anything.
The other roads of other times were insecure. But the current ones, in spite of the progresses technological, healthy extremely insecure. Almost that cannot leave house.
We always walked very hurried, busy, that we didn't get time for anything else, nor to love.
Civilization is it be assaulted at any moment.
If the saints are too much, more than the days of our life, and is Satan only one, as it is that he gets to take them always the best?
There are political parties that stored in the power, contradicting our expectations, they are revealed as perfect dictators, and they retreat us for the time of the slavery.
The dictators are as the Church and their priests: besides they be chosen by God, they also enjoy the prerogatives of the divine power.