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, 10 de janeiro de 2014

A woman smile is the most tempting thing of the Creation

When a woman's beauty is freed, everything that surrounds her wakes up. 
Here is the awakening of the darkness that they rented our heart for in him to live, landlords of our souls stay. Already the night presses and of us he doesn't want to leave. Of the winner smiles already few remain. The nights before deep, they are now very superficial. The waters of the rivers wake up of the last sigh of the love. 
And the love is as arid as a bridge under a dry river, just with powder tears. But the green of the bamboos that they surround you, approaches, they want to be linked, of vegetable love, to love you. 
We have to build factories of dreams so that our mind is light and rise. Hover on the summits of the highest mountains and of there he doesn't leave. But that flies and in their walls he enrolls: love, I lost you, I found you, I woke up and I continue to see the million of starving of hands to the high begging for a love alms and nobody looks them, they just wander as the wind that passes. 
The dream is to fly, always higher, for the love to conquer, to bless. Oh! How many produced dreams hover in the candles in the ships spread, of free prows, tearing the sea, to the encounter of loving. 
The unconditional to live it is to untie, the love to free it is being in touching. How many slaves of the love desire of him if it frees, because their lovers there are a lot meet in the vacancy of the mists of cloistering, in the medieval castle to await, before the vampire will suck them. Ah! who frees us of this love vampire? 
Seating in the altar of the destiny, prosperously kneeling, contemplating the splendor, grassed, in a psalm knelt down. 
And God sent us a present that fell in our hearts, a goddess so that we wake up of the torpor, and let us adore her, therefore she was reincarnated the love. Only the beauty is tender, eternal. 
But prepared tree for you be dropped, in the martyrdom waited, desperate, of the disinherited Earth. Until the sun of your rejuvenating petals they spoil you. But suddenly an unexpected love hugs you, it saves you of the misfortune, of the human forest annihilating, of deforesting. 
Close I listen fingering of the delicious lute, just as your voice that penetrates deep in the hearts and it sets on fire them, the awake souls, it gives a present. It is suddenly a soft breeze appears, later it is strong. Because you inaugurated me a forest of hope, in your green voice of calm. And it remains me always of this delight the memory, of your perseverance. 
In the Earth he also has Olympus, a goddess went down in her, and the in the lute made poetry, of jasmines he adorned, a celestial garden planted. And the children in the garden dance endless. And the memoirs never again faded, forever they were, they sang unique in your Olympus, Taj Mahal. 
Of the immensity of the sea the distant is born to look. That it seems to blue when meditating. Seagulls to fly the sky of the sea, to capture you. It seems that you have the lost glance, wounded, in the Nature, of everything that is you wanted. The sea attracts us, it magnetizes us, we came from the sea and to him we will return, passionate, arrested in your jasmine to look. 
The truth in your face illuminates the life, it caresses. A dream finishes another begins in the left stones of the civilizations extinct, abandoned. And when the love fades other to find, to change. The love is not defined, like Atlantis, lost. 
Stepping, caressing of the sand of the beach of the sea moves our asleep memory, for millennia, per centuries hibernated, and suddenly to the bottom it begins to sight Ulysses, the Argonaut, her dog and stooping Penelope, in the approximated sand, to the wait that Ulysses hugs her lover, rapt, exalted. 
Oh my God! Almost that I fainted before such bulky beauty that I idealized. Here is beautiful Big-Bang that originated the universe. So captivating, so refreshing, so touching. Finally, I already know: your beauty created, it originated the Universe, and in him happy I walk to the drift. He opens me at least the door of a parallel universe, for in him to enter and a lot to stay. 
And in my Pegasus to fly / to hug you / under the waves of your sea / and to whisper you that I want to fall in love. The dreams fly to the speed of the light of the love, but when they take place everything is beauty, splendor. 
I sing a ballad to the love that passes, I lost her the track, where he walks him, that he crawls in the misfortune. 
The dreams are our best friend, without them it is impossible to accomplish loving. In the altar of the Nature you inspire, you make the force to vibrate, living that you breathe.   
To write the dream of a tropical night, of black dressed, impartial. Close, some fallen leaves try to recover the original green, sighing for the mystic goddess in the notebook wavy, excited, in the wavy hair. 
For the summit of the banquet of the love there is only a road. Many adventurers try until today to discover him, but they get lost in their mazes. What would of the love be without mazes? And everything begins and it ends in the love, as in a battle in that he always leaves winner.   
I listen the sound of the fallen green leaves in the sea that approximates you. And I imagine with a lute, I finger him and song the soft to drag of the leaves as a small boat full of hummingbirds: you are prisoner of the castle without love. There it is the villainous lord of a castle, but that terror, gets ready to cage you in a frozen one and wet dungeon. My love wakes up of the immense torpor and it is reborn her the ardor. I break out for the drawbridge, my horse seems winged, my sword is been already to unseam, I ride - more I seem to fly - for the stairways and the villain doesn't have courage of facing me, and I arrive, I just free you of the average forts of the infamy with an a stroke of sword. I hug you, we hugged each other and of eyes in the eyes penetrated in our universes, as an ocean of jasmines, and we admitted at the chapel of our love: "Oh! my embittered lover, you are freed, of the captivity untied." "Oh! My lover of unrestricted courage, in my interior thanked, of body and immoderate soul, it takes me defined, to you I surrender, clear. 
You of the dreams are always present in an absent heart. My lute is in the heart, of my lover's coloration, always fingered. My delight is to look, to love. I take oath and I will swear that of that prison of jasmines will never free you. 
The jasmines await your essence, your presence, they were already like this to the birth. 
Your charm magnetize the landscape, he offers her a green message. Yours to walk in the backwash of the vegetable balance, it wakes up the nature and her no longer it will feel as before because he will keep you, your image will whisper, he will sing. 
That paradisiacal feeling that frees us of the suffering, lives in you without lament. Where you move get right you what is wrong and there are children's laughters on the whole side, because they deposit in you their hopes. For something to seek the paradise if he is always present inside of us. So much lost time, lived in the disillusion, in vain. For something to struggle against the love a lost battle is been? And all of the roads lead to her shrine. Yes love is God that we sought, but just poor appearance found him. And when convinced that we conquered him, already he is at another place, because the love is an instant, itinerant. 
The rain falls to caress the thirsty body of loving. And to the love to fall he makes to flow. To the bottom, the vegetation observes the silence of your meditation, and the hills in elevation. The rain wakes up in the love the discovery. 
The purity of the inspiration of the beauty is as the beginning of the fields of Pakistan flooded of jasmines. A sweet smile that transforms the pleasant to look of a Pakistani goddess. That he lives forever that heroine beauty. Without a woman's beauty we just serialized mortal poor. And we existed because her beauty makes the ways of the love. And it is for that a woman's beauty is above, she lives for besides the Universe of the love. 
The years of a birthday are just long one year. They come to the surface year after year, in the delirious sequence of the glance for the mirror and him to seem old, when actually we are we that didn't believe, didn't accept that image of bewitched witch.  
But the eminent writer that gives a present us with her immortal work will be reminded, celebrated everyday, forever. It is there no longer they will exist years, but moments - of all of the moments - of reflection of somebody that is always present in our thought.  
Everything is passing, but the beauty is eternal. As lit candles in a stormy night, that as a light guides us, it illuminates us the secrets of the beauty. And the waves of the sea crash strongly in the base of the light, while her light ray if he understands in the marine horizon of the love, and it unmasks her splendor. There is who calls them love storms. That it would be of the love without the heat of the rain that hugs us tender, eternal. 
It is will never find him because the destiny of a love is the destiny of all of the loves. 
The overcrowded ship of jasmines travels, it slides for the flavor of the wavy crests of the sea of the insipidity of the love. The prow doesn't move forward, it seems fixed, without movement, but the foam and some leaves still green that lie down in the pilgrimage of the sea air, they proceed, they pursue in the direction of the statue there to the bottom of the lost island, that it continues like this endlessly hurt to await that the love loosens her the bows and the incomes, discover to lingerie. That other Excalibur penetrates her and of her be reborn the pure, the goddess Guinevere. Then no longer it will be any island, it will be a jasmine marigold. 
A braid of your braids fell, it flowed as a liane of the millenarian tree that their famous trunks extended - the freedom of flying of liane in liane - he offered to the traveler that with her shadow rejuvenated him. And the sun already in her intense one premeditated to travel, first with silver rays, later he opened up of dense to stripe orange. It is there were of incandescent face, of looking you searched almost absentee, the margins of the discord already at the end of the afternoon of the sun that triumphant throw darts the last shone of the gold tones, the farewell of the wasted loves, in the bedrooms outraged. Oh! As healthy so intense, ephemeral and gentle the refuges of the love. 
The sea shields the silhouette of the fortress of yours adored profile, that illuminated for the blessed desire of the rehearsals of the triangular waves, transparent blue that they frame the painting of the lake of your fertile one to look. An impressionist picture of painted sun, of gilded sea and of hair bluish, coiled, in the landscape of anchored Penelope.   
It is as a course of anatomy of the butterflies. They don't fly, they just agitate the fragile wings, such and which as he is anxious the love. Butterflies are children's dreams that agitate the delicate arms and they fly. The flight of the butterflies is the child's dream done reality. Without butterflies the children would not exist, because they are the whitest invention than the infantile universe already accomplished. To dream, it is the flight of the butterfly that the child wants to be hit, to hug. To fly, it is a child's dream taking place. The butterflies don't fly, they dream. 
Butterfly, flies, it flies, he walks of flower in flower and it extracts her the perfume of the love. The butterflies when they roost in the flowers leave them a message: We landed, caressed your fine textures with our more intimate tenderness. To travel of flower in flower is to expand the love. 
A laughter is the sublime expression of the human being's freedom. And when a beauty proclaims her, it is vivifying of the Nature that the fire. 
It is not the love that flees of us - on the contrary - we are that we fled of him. But there is always a new look to her wait. First asleep, later I wake up. Oh! A they are unfathomable the mysteries of the love and of a woman's beauty. 
As a seating goddess in the fragility of the paradise. As in a light to watch the insecurity of the sea of the life. Only a safe woman's wonderful beauty, lights up, it guides the bad weather of the life. Oh! As he would want to be shipwreck and to give to the cozy beach of that replete light of beauty. 
To live alone, I believe that it is the extreme happiness that the human being can reach. After all, even with company we felt vastly alone. 
A deep glance unmasks the world. And a smile overflows in the green of the vegetation. And the dream move in a hand. 
The statue of the love contemplates us of the calm temple. Storms devastate her continually, but she stays static, majestic, holds, firm, in the fortress of the love. And the water beats, he is anxious strongly in the rocks, and later as that miraculously, it caresses her and everything is tame, collected as in a prayer. To love is to seduce the statue of the love. 
The unrestricted desires hurt our heart, they leave occasion marks. The love has several doors always open, and in him easy it is to penetrate. All of the roads lead to a woman's love, but the doors are not open for who wants. Without love the Universe would move? 
The seduction is the art of the magnetization. And to let to take in that current is the most sublime of the Nature. Paraphrasing Lavoisier, (1743-1794): In the love anything if it loses, everything arises, everything is conquered, everything rejuvenates her. 

Carmen dos Santos 

In an of my wanderings for the stranger, in this case in a dense forest, I came across an extraordinary glade. In her, as that for magic a wood house that seemed an island in the sea born of the anything appeared. I approached and I heard with amazement a very strange noise, as never listened. Suddenly the house began to shake on the whole side, I thought that he would come undone, but no, in spite of very old the foundations were potent, in good shape. And a deep voice, as that exit of the bowels of the earth screamed: "FREES ME! " It is almost to shake got to answer: To "free you how? " And the voice now almost without forces, discouraged, he begs me: He "says the word more used by the human beings! " I meditated during some hours and anything. Gee! But which is the word more used by the human beings? Petroleum? Gold? To kill? War? To steal? Corruption? And the house seemed to read my thoughts because as he thought about a word she was reduced, it disappeared. The house decreased so that little it lacked her to arrive to a grain of sand. It is suddenly a word left me instinctively of the mouth. And I screamed her powerful like her it deserves: LOVE!!! AND the house in an apex returned to the normal, the whole structure opened up of pair in equal. And a transformation sudden, divine happened: They saw each other several animals that lived together, I believe that they dated if. The Glade disappeared. It was heard whistling of the wind, rain clouds announced her. The rain tumbled with force and her hymn the forest sang. After having freed, the miracle of the power of the love appeared with all her splendor. To arrest the love is handcuff-millstones the heart. It is crime of it harms Nature. 
Does everything move and didn't we feel him/it, because we faked that we existed? Anesthetized by the factory of the love, invented, we walked without sense, to the tons to the universal medical clinic, and after a fast consultation, because the doctor has many, many patient - this humanity, civilization, only has patient, resigned patients to live awaiting the death - there the prescription comes: Who more it suffers with everything that is my heart  
The blood pressure arises, he shows  
The doctor tranquilized me, for the tranquilizers  
he sent me, of her learned one to know, as before 
Take them with some water 
As a very clear, transparent day, when clearing up  
of lying down 
A small flask, containing chemical reactions  
For the night to be very dark 
One a day, or will one be per night? 
So that it is easy to support the lapses 
of sliding of everyday 
Difficult it is to walk with the feet in the ground 
You are not a woman, you are a monument to the woman. 
I saw you to run for the waves of the sea and in them to fly. Then you went to the abyss in a dive without return - you wanted like this him, I thought - I ran as a lunatic pursuing you, but it was already too late. I got to see you in the bottom. You were so happy, I asked you: Carmen, comes for the surface! " No, here in such deep world I feel so happy that I don't want more the to return that surface." Carmen, you don't leave!!! it is never again saw you. It is for that began a song, a new religion that nails the marine love to leave of that moment the sea. 
A woman smile is the most tempting thing of the Creation. 

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