sleep Let the world
A world flaccid inertia stands idle during the nights of raucous purring. It rolls slowly into a painful night, as drunkards roll along a gutter. Needy of sleep complaints mount long, tortured sulfur fumes and oily which expire through the pores of this feverish world. This is a punitive sleep therapy, a sentence imposed for its own survival, as knock down a dangerous man, before the drugs to neutralize it. These sleep a person gets is a few pills of the pain, not usually remain a few tortured hallucinations, and several crumpled sheets of cold sweat rings. And slid the world, placid in its free fall, and bows with delight in a gentle decline, sweetened morphine.
its surface agitated unnecessarily tightrope haggard. Their empty eyes are full of insolent belief, opulent aberrations obstructing their vision. Right in front of them, vulgar, conviction to be important, and the certainty of having a role to play. Belief to exist by the sense of duty, have a destiny, not to be insignificant. Each morning they are not few, and in the evening when the light fades, they walk backwards again these few people meters. Thus their life oscillates, tirelessly, at the discretion of the tides of their ambition and their contentment. When death approaches, the pendulum slows. And then she caught him, exasperated by the emptiness of this agitation, and freezes forever in the oblivion glue.
A hand before their eyes, they describe their voices too high, with aplomb the world they do not see. Lining mirrors the walls of their life, thinking speakers, they are illiterate.
But you do not worry, let the world sleep. I'll often see behind the scenes. You will walk with caution, you do not dream. We share the dark hours out of the spotlight. You pull a few strings of these puppets heavy, hand stands, head turns. But the eyes are glassy and the hand is cold. Your affection still stumbles on a dummy, and plays from the sidelines you sometimes you make statements that blowers. Their booklet in hand, recite pledges about to die later in the room asleep, and you sat cross-legged on a speaker phone, you get drunk.
Somnambulists tonight are all the movies, prisoners of chair and force-feeding of images. Are projected onto their eyelids calorie films that struggle to fill their hunger for ideas. Lulled by the pictures they dive into their fantasies fat bulimic. They are condemned without mercy forever spectators off.
But you do not worry, sleep leaves the world behind the camera, you paint the lives of others. You picked the present and arranged in a bouquet. You cut and glue pictures of you real canvas and suddenly appears on your future. Nights during the blades you invent possible and I look every morning to discover that the feverish bloom date. You caress the screen, where knocking fools, fooled by the illusion, and you see them falling, leaning against the wall they take to the skyline. Then you go out of your pocket a pencil and you draw on the screen windows and doors. The crowds are engulfed, so goes the world of caves in the abyss.
World at telephone messages left impersonal. Responders égrainent solitary words drown in the sound wave. They make fun phrases, proud to have spoken, and go back to sleep happy. Words that are taken by the handful throws in his ear, as children threw themselves on the beach sand. They really think that stones, balanced random work out perfectly, grandiose monuments? One by one they got up, struck by an idea, and very strong repeat what they just heard. The voicemail hungry are silent, totally silent. Still others hang themselves.
But you do not worry, let the world sleep. And you want to hand the tapes where words come expire aborted. Through the clear plastic tape, you can examine the ideas. One by one you loosen them, you take sounds, words, notes, and you sew slowly human stories. Alone in the silence, you perceive the agreements, slow melodies. You swing slowly on these strings sound in harmony tightrope you progress in measured steps. And gradually you take confidence, aware also of the fragility of your happiness, the unlikelihood of your good fortune.
But the night is still going and for how long? In the silence, in darkness behind the scenes, we watch quietly, surrounded by the sweet scents of summer nights. Soon a light
sharp crack eye of this world asleep. Then we miss these moments unreal, where we lived together in a world that is sleeping?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Caskets With American Flags
A GREAT NANNY!
Currently South Africa is dominating all media. This country has a big place in my heart: Lulu was born in Johannesburg and left this city at the age of 19 years to emigrate to France
Throughout her childhood happiness and unhappiness were his most faithful companions. In a heavenly setting hiding hell.
racism, hatred of black bread daily were its inhabitants. The scenic beauty was powerless to soften the hearts.
Early in school, she realized what wickedness. Children made fun of his disability, insulted because she was Jewish!
In his eyes the greatest injustice was not to be allowed to snuggle into the arms of his nanny Agnes, to kiss him, tell him I love you.
This was the greatest sorrow of his childhood. Agnes
second mom to my darling was black. At home of apartheid, the dogs were more respected than blacks.
In public, he should not have any tender gesture. It was strictly forbidden.
Lucy's parents worked a lot. Their modest watch them busy all day. They entrusted the education of their daughter Agès.
My love has been brought up, cared for and pampered every time she came home after each hospitalization. Her baby sister was a real mother hen.
Lucy's house was a haven of peace. Say I love you no longer prohibited. He could tell anyone. Kisses, tender gestures were always always welcome.
Once a week, Agnes had to leave to join her this Eden Township. In good mother, she brought his pay home and kissed his daughter and her husband.
To move Agnes white area must have a passport. At every moment she could be controlled, bored by the police.
Everyone was afraid that a tragedy occurs.
fool has no laws prevented two families (one of Lulu and Agnes) of love and respect. Zulu culture and the Jewish lived together harmoniously both. The difference was enrichment, not contempt, rejection. Finally Apartheid Lulu gave a taste of life in a colorful world, where fraternal person who would tell her she should love and that she ought to hate.
and finally here's berseuse Agnes Lulu sang when she was a baby:
Monday, May 17, 2010
What Does Disabled Service Mean?
A NICE PRESENT
LOVE
It is with great emotion that I just close "Hope and Hope" the latest book by Isabelle
is a beautiful collection of poetry!
It was offered to me by her and her mom. I want to thank all my heart.
My friendship with Isabelle back in the day when I bought his first book "Emotions" is
in the journal of the Association Recklinghausen neurofibromatosis and I learned that young woman who wrote poems neurofibromatosis.
disease confined her in a chair.
Despite the cruelty of her disease, she finds the strength, the courage to inspire happiness, joy of living. Each word
invigorates me, makes me fishing to advance.
I can walk, take those I love in my arms, listening to music!
Isabella was not so lucky and still find the strength to smile and take care of an association whose goal is to break the isolation of adults with physical disabilities.
I have no right to complain. Rather than wasting my time complaining, I prefer to keep my energy to invite you to buy her pretty little book, visit the association's ISA (Issue Relief to Others)
ISA buying equipment to make life easier for the disabled.
-Organizes outings: games of football / rugby, cinema, theater, swimming pool etc.
-Inform people about the various organizations and associations.
-Educates the public about disability
Since I fell in love, I forgot my blog!
I became selfish: I thought that my happiness.
The other day I found in my mailbox a book that told me
"happiness is largest is greater when you share with your neighbor. Now that you Lulu lives with your heart and dear companion in misfortune, you have more strength to cry out to the World life is good.
Nothing can disfigure, especially not the disease:
is precisely the latter that gave you the best of these LOVE
email: contact@association-isa.com
http:// www.association-isa.com
LOVE
It is with great emotion that I just close "Hope and Hope" the latest book by Isabelle
is a beautiful collection of poetry!
It was offered to me by her and her mom. I want to thank all my heart.
My friendship with Isabelle back in the day when I bought his first book "Emotions" is
in the journal of the Association Recklinghausen neurofibromatosis and I learned that young woman who wrote poems neurofibromatosis.
disease confined her in a chair.
Despite the cruelty of her disease, she finds the strength, the courage to inspire happiness, joy of living. Each word
invigorates me, makes me fishing to advance.
I can walk, take those I love in my arms, listening to music!
Isabella was not so lucky and still find the strength to smile and take care of an association whose goal is to break the isolation of adults with physical disabilities.
I have no right to complain. Rather than wasting my time complaining, I prefer to keep my energy to invite you to buy her pretty little book, visit the association's ISA (Issue Relief to Others)
ISA buying equipment to make life easier for the disabled.
-Organizes outings: games of football / rugby, cinema, theater, swimming pool etc.
-Inform people about the various organizations and associations.
-Educates the public about disability
Since I fell in love, I forgot my blog!
I became selfish: I thought that my happiness.
The other day I found in my mailbox a book that told me
"happiness is largest is greater when you share with your neighbor. Now that you Lulu lives with your heart and dear companion in misfortune, you have more strength to cry out to the World life is good.
Nothing can disfigure, especially not the disease:
is precisely the latter that gave you the best of these LOVE
email: contact@association-isa.com
http:// www.association-isa.com
Monday, May 10, 2010
How To Change My Gprs Settings For My Sidekick
On ash ... Bestiality Fuck ze
Out of the ashes ...
Some warriors walk haggard eyes dissolved
On the smoldering ruins where their die fighting. From body
uninhabited escape in soft murmurs
Smells poisonous memories ungrateful.
mists of the past capture light
And the warriors aimlessly moving in darkness.
With the last body falls as the evening twilight
In a long agony of war. The body
redemption, trembling with some fever,
Seems to have absorbed the chaos of battle. From wild rebellions
roar through the notches
Who roam the skins of these soldiers truce.
They walk without reason, as these ducks headless
In a mechanical persistence and abstract.
Peace without notice was ruthlessly seized
Some obscure promises to war sung.
Ashes gently settle to the ground.
warms the heart breastplates fever mad. Then they resumed in
drum infernal
Dance warriors, the sad bacchanal. On a dream
completed open some eyes,
Dawn was released from the sheet of dust.
Horizon eroded before them downwind
Future evaporates under the hot sun.
Ruins ugliest hidden deep within them
The real battlefield is scarred their hearts. On the moors
injured, blood oozing hate
The new day brings blades faded.
Out of the ashes ...
Some warriors walk haggard eyes dissolved
On the smoldering ruins where their die fighting. From body
uninhabited escape in soft murmurs
Smells poisonous memories ungrateful.
mists of the past capture light
And the warriors aimlessly moving in darkness.
With the last body falls as the evening twilight
In a long agony of war. The body
redemption, trembling with some fever,
Seems to have absorbed the chaos of battle. From wild rebellions
roar through the notches
Who roam the skins of these soldiers truce.
They walk without reason, as these ducks headless
In a mechanical persistence and abstract.
Peace without notice was ruthlessly seized
Some obscure promises to war sung.
Ashes gently settle to the ground.
warms the heart breastplates fever mad. Then they resumed in
drum infernal
Dance warriors, the sad bacchanal. On a dream
completed open some eyes,
Dawn was released from the sheet of dust.
Horizon eroded before them downwind
Future evaporates under the hot sun.
Ruins ugliest hidden deep within them
The real battlefield is scarred their hearts. On the moors
injured, blood oozing hate
The new day brings blades faded.
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