The Epic Poem of the Darkness (82). It is not the armament that wins a battle, it is the human mill

Handcuffed cruelty transported in these other ships of stormy seaquakes. Of the vile government that sucks everything that is dollars for them. And for the population the abandonment. Before the silence and the cynicism of the Western democracy. That they send their banks for us to decimate us. They don't know that they promote the world hungry persons' terrorism and more theses places. And however Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan cheer up against the blockade of this Western terrorism.

They despise me far away from the luxury of his living rooms, in auctions, where they admire, they savour, and they buy my womb, my breasts… and the exhibition of my nakedness

Millions of brothers and sisters there were without right to ticket of passage, and so many and so much didn't pass in the Passage

The merchants before the pressure of the abolition of the meat for vultures and sharks, defend that this affect her sustenance and the one of their families

I was very concerned with 1880 to 1914. They forced me to sign protection treaties with machine guns in the hand. There was not anything that it was not enclosed. The Whites were well received, they rewarded us with her powerful grapeshot

I jumped of the morning and the day saw me. He finished very fast

I just sleep to forget, to deceive the hunger that devastates me

I want that the nights end fast

to get one to live more day

Of a dream outraged without final

To live is not a dream

it is a nightmare

a curve without final

in the brutal life

I cannot sell the whistle of the wind

I am as that stopped, undecided

almost as a statuette

of ivory

We are crowds of static statues

without infinite, without perception of the distant future

Of the thoughtful sadness of the nightmare that doesn't abandon me

In the morning awake and other nightmare waits for me

The nightmare of the day by day

of the bayonets

Three conditions define the human being

In foot, seating, and lying in the eternal

I helped the Zulu. We defeated English and Afrikaners

Then we were due, humiliated, due to the thunders

To the storms of the powerful weapons

It is not the armament that wins a battle, it is the human mill

It was happy before them arrive. He was in the paradise

he didn't worry anything about the food

There was her to the kicks. Mangos, bananas, pineapples

lobsters, skunks, a lot of fish market

They leaned me to the wall of the racial discrimination

They glued me a paper that identified

Black without paradise in the lost earth

Just obtaining the copyright

of being quiet

The missionaries faced the secular silence

of the divine kindness. Of the little to do, of the animal denial

irrational

I exist invisible, without statistics

I am a negative zero

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