Monday, June 28, 2010

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My angel,

There are two days ago, I was walking under a blazing sun and the trees in the park. Came to get fresh air and some beautiful color to my melancholy, I was sweating without feelings of sweet, my lungs and throats of youth and summer. A fierce beating up my winter heat, and after a few hours the unequal contest, I gave up arms. I came up with the idea of walking to the Rose Garden. More than an idea, it was in fact an obligation, an imperative need, to walk in the rose garden. So my day had lifted it. He was bathing, dressing, eating, and going to the Rose Garden. I soon understood the reasons for this unpredictable pulse.
While the breeze of June was sweet to my nostrils the first scents of flowers, it seemed to unravel these sweetness tangled sound of your voice. My angel, once again, you gave me an appointment. You did not know and neither do I, and this is how it that our reunion has always been the most certain. In the first step I took along the flower beds, I began a delightful conversation with you. I'll try to report back. I'd be selfish to keep to myself so many delights you were the source.

Yes, of course, my angel, your skin fresh as often was far from the reach of my hand, and your brown curls sported in gusts that others breathe. But my friend, I swear that I rarely felt at my side with equal force and certainty. You never less smart vaporous.
On these roses your eyes, shaded by elegant worries arose with convenience. You're not one to denigrate the flowers faded, thankfully. You to look at their bedside, taking much thought for these fragile petals, though powerless in the face a sun of June. In passing a perfume made you shudder. I also leaned very close to your neck, feeling the girl who smells so good roses, and took a lot of worry too. If only the sun was threatening you, my troubles would quickly dispelled.
In the silence of the summer, so heavy that he choked up sound of our footsteps in gravel driveways, you let slip a few lines about the irony
deadly summers ... "What a sad story, you explain to young flower-and this same sun that was hatched yesterday you and you made him so beautiful now burn your wings. Enjoy the flight of the day, at night you'll be grounded. "
I stayed silent. I've never been able to add your beautiful evidences. I ran behind them as they chase butterflies. As I marveled
miracles that are born on certain days of summer. Here I am at my place in this rough picture. A muse in my arms, roses in their eyes, whose perfume I gave birth sonnets integers. It was enough to breathe to feel Rimbaud. What happened to the world in these hot happy? From all his mistakes that disfigure much of this soil which grew abject revulsion? Nothing perhaps. I saw you in 1910, covered with white lace, mounted on ankle boots, topped by an umbrella. I was proud to dress, feeling honored to have you designed for this delicate case where you were happy.

Yet in the distance behind the valleys of artificial botanical garden, rose up in smoke yellow fever in the city. Summer gets stuck there in the hot bitumen, and the scent of roses does not feel that in the books. You speak of the beauties found there, which are rooted in reality. You laugh at our bubbles, you drink to our happiness as we drink champagne, happy drunkenness of those hours, fireworks, increased knowledge of the realities gray. Visiting the rose garden, you were in my arms a beautiful stranger, fascinated by a world that you touch the untouchable of Dreams, smiling nicely to conceal your face embarrassment as the exotic.
And yet every night you come back to me sagging under loads of flowers cities. These blooms unlikely that color the stones, you only have this rare talent for taming. Away from drugs and fertilizers from the beautiful rose garden, you have always given flowers small enough esteem for their scent never leaves our everyday lives.

Behind that bush red balloon rises to this light, followed by a few seconds by the piercing cry of a desperate child. The poor little boy, nailed to the ground by inhumane sandals, looks through a wall of tear pride soar saturated in blue. He chases the ball fugitive volleys of insults and showers of tears. But the cries do not fly so high that the balloons, and soon they fade into the noise of the city. So many cries prematurely launched, so many tears fall from the nest for a loose ball. It would take more than the wind in June, even by a few thousand fragrant roses, to learn to fly in some despair.
We speak for nearly an hour, my angel, and yet this is a desert rose. In my mind happy my pen you write with glee. But when I lift my eyes from the blackened sheet, there among the roses dry dust lanes, and my loneliness that goes gusty beasts. I travel the roads with a great application, trying to note in passing all the details that might interest you. I am sharing my project soon to exercise this activity professionally. I'm becoming a great rose garden visitor. Ample above a thousand onlookers who cross without flowers, and mechanically raise their noses at random on the petals. Certainly the government would like to reward such activity. Indeed, why bother planting the heart of our cities such floral splendor, when no man can pay tribute to the poetry of these places. Upon my return I postulate, that is said. Here is a respectable activity for a sensitive young man. No doubt you marry me soon if I get this. Already
not take me away from my elegant fragrance of the rose garden and your eyes softened. I shudder thinking about the improbability of moments. I think jealously, beauty and eternal assured of these groves. What about that, much more rare, far more precious, more fragile and otherwise, your tender heart? If he had one, like yours, every spring, in what a beautiful harmony then bathe the lives of men ... But you're far
already my angel, and I must kiss you too often dreaming. I walk the streets and you dispel. At every street corner a line from your memory leaves my eyes, eyes that open again on a reality without you.
I will return to the rose garden, I'll be waiting like a lover wise, wiggling his fingers on a bench alone a letter from you giving appointment.

Friday, June 25, 2010

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The Full Moon of June 26, 2010


Full Moon of June 26th (Gemini lunar month) takes place on the Cancer-Capricorn axis
The Cancer-Capricorn axis is the axis of the inner life of self-realization . Attachment to roots, family, tenacity, ambition and long term projects.
The moon is in Capricorn Pluto joint and opposes the Sun conjunct Mercury in Cancer.
Mercury, planet of the mind joins the Sun in the sign of Cancer psychological and emotional awareness and exchange but it can also be a lot of nervousness, precipitation in the reflection, the mind can be unstable, intelligence is more intuitive than logical, irrational and imaginative. In
Capricorn Moon is in exile. She is also joint Pluto. The emotional is strong and will be intensified and more difficult to control. We may tend to repress our feelings, our emotions, wanting to make reason prevail over passion but Pluto moves in depth, brings out what is fled, reveals what we want to keep hidden.
Much concern and anxiety are expected which can generate an emotional crisis but may also bring a purification: it plunges into the depths of our being to regenerate.

Note also that we are witnessing a partial eclipse of the moon at joint North Node. We should have a little more free will and be less contact with the forces of the unconscious but our coping skills may also be reduced.
During a lunar eclipse, we are faced with a present that must be assumed and it is a good time to make decisions. At the next lunar month
Cancer occurs a solar eclipse South Node (July 11). At this time then we may be forced to call in question the past and this time we may be delivered to the forces of the unconscious.

mark eclipses intense confrontations with everything in human nature, hinders spiritual progress by keeping the individual in a rut, as comfortable and happy as it is (Rupert cycles become)


During the PL also form a large square: Sun opposition Mercury / Moon-Pluto square Saturn opposition / Jupiter-Uranus
This large square is most cardinal, who represents the pulse mode and the burst of will; Only Saturn is in Virgo, mutable mode, which is the constant desire to change or improvement which "softens" So Saturn, making it more malleable to change.

It may therefore be considerably shaken but inspired him to create and act in a climate of tension, instability, insecurity.

The Moon is also sextile to Neptune (Aquarius end) spouse Chiron (early Pisces) and in trine to Mars (Virgin)

We will be guided by the healing power of Chiron and the inspiration and vision of Neptune to act with discretion method and discipline but also with a sense of service (March in Virgo).
It pays to be aware of our responsibility for the difficulties and hardships we are experiencing a deep inner reflection while using our power of transformation.

Finally, it is also my opinion reflect the superior conjunction of Mercury, which takes place on 28, two days after LP.
This is the Full Moon phase of the cycle that began April 18 (beginning of the retrograde motion of Mercury): our thoughts, ideas that have germinated and took root and grew up are now in full bloom and we offer their scent, a feast for the senses.


Lord, give me the courage to change what can be changed,
The serenity to accept what can not be
wisdom to recognize the difference. Marcus Aurelius

Friday, June 11, 2010

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SAVE A LIFE MESSAGE VERY VERY LOUD!

SOME NOTES OF GUITAR

In youtube, I discovered by chance "Freedom Zero" Pierre Perret.
What a great song is my favorite that I want to share with you.
I hope you enjoy it as much as me.
few notes of music can convey very strong messages.
My blog is read around the World. I'm a surfer free to speak as I wish.
This video is dedicated to those who are not so lucky there


Pierre Perret lyrics Freedom Zero

A large scissors in the Azure, a dove
wrote your name, Freedom. But Beijing
flying under the sky,
On Tiananmen Square, the blood has not dried,
reporters languishing in prison,
These awkward questions were poorly chosen. Why
here lies in reason? Why
information rhymes with repression?
While this swallow in the sky,
continued to write unabated. The four flowers
truth
For here were not met.

Chorus:
Freedom ... Zero!
Equal ... Zero!
Brotherhood ... Zero! And Dignity
double zero!

A large scissors in the Azure, a dove
wrote your name, Freedom.
But in Russia to Africa Cuba,
The dungeons are filled with hazardous media.
Because they were armed to the teeth
cameras and pens sharp

[Chorus]

Where are you dear Freedom of expression
which countries are still unaware of your benefits?
Poor Scheherazade I feel,
Throughout the Middle East, we have you pulled the whistle.
Everywhere, women are humiliated,
intolerance and fanaticism are kings
Stoning, lynchings and hands cut off,
are the petals of flowers that grow there.
But there will always be a swallow
To draw the tip of its wing
These four flowers of Truth
Wherever they are not respected


Tuesday, June 8, 2010

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The Bad Boy



Bad Boy Part 1: Hell
Through a cloud of fragrant steam,
Hiding his eyes behind his black sunglasses,
It massacre joyless audience in a trance,
blows of heavy sighs and sharp silences. Between his lips

spin nets in vaporous
The thickness of his soul, the darkness of his wishes.
smoky dungeon he lives placid
It fills in the moat of her looks acids.

For them this good for nothing s'emmure in its silliness,
These mists are stubborn suffocate her life.

They attract the flies, their true loves bitter
He prefers a hundred times their sincere disavowal. Car fumes

opaque walls that rise
nauseating about this bad boy
Fly away from the pyre of her lost dreams.
sentenced to the flame by his feverish desires,
And by the court in accordance virtues
These are ideals that blaze with them.

Part 2: Escape.

Spinning in his car, smoking obsessions,
Strings of escaping from his injury record,
It combines the roar of its engine furious
few tears burning his eyes that redden.

In his sweaty chest drain fears blue.
Going through his arteries, breaking his wrist,
Crushing pedal weighing in his foot, The
Fear is driving the hands of the unfortunate. Exciting

to his temples in drums infernal
essences of him, too concentrated juice, Nectar
insoluble in reality
Flows in its next torrent proud to tomb.
.
hell behind him and his hairy legs
Ripped yet sometimes the skin of his bare back.

is in equilibrium at the surface of a world
Who opens beneath his feet deep from the bowels.

Road to himself, he is a tightrope
Reeling randomly flying out of breath, Towards
where it is not where life is serene.
He sometimes runs to the spectra sleepwalkers
spinning through the plains of her past
He once planted fragrant hours.

In this garden planted with flowers incorruptible
He put his life, he will sleep in peace.

Part3: Life

desert of white sand, here is a world away.
In the pure blue sky steals the golden angel,
slaying the demons of the deep deep
He watches over my dreams and my young years.

between my bare legs dancing white streaks.
face the sun only one who finally defies me, I
back slowly in perfect silence,
intoxicated light in the day ends.

I burn my retinas to see my childhood,
And without looking back, I walk slowly.
If I left the eyes, the blinding sun, a gesture
lightning strike me no. I look at my

not erase my footprints.
I pace backwards during the hours feints
go back a little
few steps further.

Then come to an end against your body works and fever, and in my neck
written letters of your lips.
Then his eyes to heaven, healed from their burns,
bathe in blue skies without armor.

Angel too is dying alone in an infinite blue,
Since that time too short when I came across your eyes
dies in infinite these days nebulous
Where only my dreams in vain I cling to life.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

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A GREAT HONOR WORLD MULTI

WEAR THE STAR OF DAVID!

June 9, 2009, a little star has taken up residence in my heart. This is my light, it guides my steps.
You did know. Lulu is my great love. This five-letter word was subversive in the country which he was born. His Dad who escaped Nazi barbarism has taught him not to be afraid, taught not to use it as a weapon but as a tool for building a better world.

When Lulu came to live in France, it is believed in paradise: More signs "Only white .
The maxim " Liberty, Equality, Fraternity " is very real in his adopted country.

of respect and love for my darling, I wear around my neck a Star of David. It is a great honor!
At another time, not so long ago it would have been suicidal!
A madman had decided to create a pure race. For this he began to eliminate the handicapped. As a result, it was the turn of the gypsies, homosexuals, communists. It was hard about Jews and exterminated 6 million.

Today, the alumni can testify that men and women said no to nuts. Risking their lives, they have protected those whom Hitler wanted to disappear forever!

If I had lived through this horrible time, my love with Lulu would have led us straight into a concentration camp.
About this horrible time in our history, I knew nothing ... The only light that I had was the movies: The cow and the prisoner, the crossing of Paris, the great mop and finally the Atlantic Wall! As you can see, nothing really scary ...

is the book of Martin Gray On behalf of all my "m which has opened my eyes.
I was horrified, I do not think that is saying Huamin beings were capable of such ignominy.
When this monster was in power, I do not know if I had the courage, the intelligence to resist, trying to protect my neighbor.

Today in France, it is easy to fight against injustice. We live in a democracy.
My taste for Human Rights, I'm reading the works of Martin Gay. His wisdom, humanism made me want to fight for a better world.

My little star shining in my heart for this fight harder, give me the courage to never give up my ideas and projects