Rien Mot

  A los que parten en el mismo convoy de la tarde Les pido el favor de llevar algunas maletas Unos paquetes de humo caribeños  Ceniceros, porque me carga en mí un dolor de tirar al suelo  Los libros que se cuentan sin los pulgares de los pies es una pequeña muestra de cosas jamás puestas al término Quizás la eternidad me tenga sin abruptas interrupciones y pueda yo leer y querer seguir con mi camino  Los pido que en la ciudad de las luces logren entregar esas vanidades en la calle de las flores, muy cercano de Abelardo y Heloísa en la puerta 33 Les ofrezco un cafecito

  If they are    envolved employments were to dumps a national selection for protect their members sponsored against evident risks in plays, it is possible front imminent waterfall that put their products in falls down into market, we will see a turnaround from favorite pet and bets leading to results unthinkable.  It must happen in conformity with the current situation in the process of classification of the national selections with more and less investment in relation to consumer confidence. The losses will be linked to higher levels of public disclaimer and monetary requirements. However, since most companies have been able to sell their products through offshore trading betting in business institutions and other international places, it does not mean to leave the entertainment industry to wind blow away. The national selections involve a series of events bonded with thoughtful choices weighted by business agents, influenced by lobbyists, sponsors, and political d...

  I never saw a geometric figuration, an abstract solid or the one’s number. Once time ago I saw an abscissa and the curve of the existence as factorial whose result’s treated about my life and     I abandoned the answer on paper that rose to the question in the wind.

  I saw my feet in the air Each step finding dreams hanging Sending side to side They are almost all dead Shadows in brightening color falling  Reflecting their bodies on poor people which has never dreamed  Riches that think that exist dreamers  sleeping with a tied face that causes scare They hugged and definitively clasped in stuff I rise a little more fleeing from  the ground

  Do not be there or somewhere between to    come without having gone Ion for away into the possible sense Orb the dream where Aion is making the time  Zion, utopia, a place not defined by a target that says it is here And what is cannot be while everything is displaced by promise from the unnamed being ethereal Joint you the soil messed of your heart and plant the unity of the green complementary Foam of stones in light  Calm beauty to beyond

If you are paying each step by month to rise to heaven, do not forget that there does not exist a reflex mirror to you  that you have here. Nature is being killed and no more exists a stone on a mountain that can bear you to see the wonder world. The tree by river shore was cutted, the roots won not to sprout again. What rests for you is a defective heart that beats and  insists knowing that it will go down in the dust. The flesh, the passion for anything, the taste to have any faith in human dignity is a plan on the plain of absurdity It is  the eternal void where hope comes from. So you have something unaudit  into a home of life where the words are like traces marking and falling within you, a memory from the absent Along your jorney together you is dying  the spirit in the passage of the time Does not meaning that the store of your hoping is locked Rising up beyond all those who saying what believing know Rising up in the air on abyss of your simple mere exi...

  Muito sol. Não dá como paralisar as ondas gelatinosas. Nenhum gelo; ao menos iceberg viesse. Balas de hortelã de cobre e latão enfiada na carne da areia, vejo isso desviando espumas ácidas. A coisa comum aparece. O canto morno. Tanta festa no dia desconhecido. Areias sórdidas se amontanhando, rindo, enchendo os bolsos. As nuvens fedorentas de sangue seco, deterioradas roem o infinito. A mesquinhez açucarada da violência está bêbada aos golpes. O dia morto atrás do chumbo grosso. Alguém, agorinha mata um pai. Ajoelha agradecendo vantagens. Almas miseráveis, bem vestidas passeiam arrastando cadáveres. Alegria extenuante de batucadas de glórias, gritam: vencemos, riem até cair a saliva em manchas de muco lançados, todos muito atentos aos ganhos imobiliários, enchendo a poça imunda das certezas planas da existência. E já morre outra vez o amanhecer e as esperanças escalvadas.

  No dice vos nada a nadie Guarda seguro lo que ahora sabe Ninguno tiene que saber lo que puede venir al  decir Si te quiero es porque ningún sabe Es nada Sentimiento esparcido en palabras Así, al saber,    no lo sabes Es necesario amar cuando amado De contrario si sabrán de todo que lo que dijo, sean quienes sean, soy yo que lo sé Yo todo lo siento Sabrás que jamás le dije nada de amor Ni dijo, por nada y por nadie, que te quiero Es que saber del amor de uno es como perdérselo

  Veio em casa um tal desconhecido a fazer-se de velho inimigo Tinha lá dois garruchões empedernidos de pólvora molhada Era bucha Parava à porta, esmola de mão esquerda a pedir obrigação Sei bem lá o que fazer Como ajudar Se me matava ou esperava a faísca secar Mandei entrar Demorou cabineiro Atalhou um talo grasnado de palavra Remendou um quieto no giral  Olhou de quarto Amassou lento os pés de pena Fiz abancar Perguntou das horas Arrumei a conversa Passei o café e lhe entreguei o ouro - pão preto Comeu pelas beiradas olhava-me no peito A pochete de couro sabe mirar? Não pude mentir, na infância meu irmão apostava, eu acertava na tabuleta; ele ganhava nunca errei um tiro Chateou-se de supetão macio Cacarejou com as galinhas Deu um esgar sem meio olhar Fez de riso E carpiu Vou dizer o quê? Má verdade assusta o covarde Tirei o peso da pochete de couro  Descansei o pesar. Enterrei no quintal o esquecimento.

  O vento veio de longe Derrubou sonhos Mudou pensamentos  Entortou as certezas Levou vidas Feriu muitos Trouxe medo Invisível em sua tormenta Passou enlouquecido pelo vazio dos campos Atravessou os planos Subiu os morros Correu pela água empossada Assobiou nos viadutos Arrebentou os canteiros Veio embora na chuva noite adentro Derrubou a luz Quebrou casas Virou carros Espantou os bichos do curral Revirou a terra socada E desapareceu Sem mais ser visto até vai ser guardado pelo passado Deitado ficou no esconderijo solesmático Ninguém veio pedir voto Era a mudança do clima O aviso das árvores perdidas Passa brisa alguém chora

  L’infini à doux mouvements des pieds et aime Je vous à la promenade. Éclate le bonheur encore plus travers quelque chose dense de bleu et blanc. Descendant du ciel le soleil fait comme ça de guide et sons radieux lumière traversant le jardin dans le fond de la maison Duplicité dans la même raisons, radieux. Deux jours que déborde tout le silence et bandes d’insectes et les oiseux volatiles et ailés. Le rapport de mon cœur avec cette dimension est qu’elle se glisse dans la pensée et transformé par les couleurs vibrantes de l’image double Tout s’efface de le jour. Deux jeunes dualistes sont chargés de la vie et de la morte et attaquent mon jour et brisent le pont de mon passage. Les deux formes sont barrées et menées pour le plaisir du doublement fermé du sens. Les virages avec le vent du sentiment outrancier modifient le    paix. Tout cesser et je garde l’inaccessible dans ma poche 

  He was a good comrade She was sweet My mother is still the only terrain where I never would sprout she was magnificent did not need a dry seed in your country when I came I brought the presence I left her world of soft love for a mess where anything does not up I live there that is here In this spot I wrote these words, did not with words but with what could be It was my father with whom I learned to be what could be. In his imagination I was the germination. He would believe that it was here where the world could be good I fold my senses with what felt by father He was worse does not exist a garden or gardener light from alive eyes a beautiful joy a little here art is forbidden sadness desolation interdiction My mother had reason about because I showed me to her They never could know I could be what could not be I planted myself a far this place I

I saw a rose on the pavement.  I got to the temple to hear the great lord of truth, and suddenly he slipped on words and glanced happily with his tongue like hands beating and screaming very loud throughout the people, making me back to the door. It was where suddenly it sound pushed down my bike, a prize from liberty, ongoing, I got way crossing marginal land of city tuning with noise voice breaking wall of my soul rather letting me far.  I see seeing passing people, parties from Sunday with locked grisly heaven. The wind I hear, it is calling by my name.  I took continuously the path known without any aim marking descending on my thinking, it does not want anything more true. I am    cycling among crowds in a surrealistic fair of craft things made by factories modeling and selling it,    until I arrives in an abandoned park of grove where great rats are adorations for upsetting groups that still climb the pole kissing a flag. It makes me found balanc...

agora é a tua vez cai na real deixa o sonho em casa e se comporta como um obediente algoritimo que diz o que pensar Vai, já existe um padrão a seguir Não se engane, os dias são os mesmos A lógica dormida na ordem a equivalência dos números e a jogada ensaiada a única coisa que muda é a certeza absoluta ####### Pedro`s Book