Friday, February 27, 2009

Excercise While Bronchitis

Uncover your happiness, stop shaking


"We are time. Human beings are time. We are made of clay kneading time and three or four memories. That is the raw material from which we are formed. Seconds. Minutes. Months. Years. Decades. Centuries. Millennia. And I'm here not knowing what to do and I tremble. Tiemblo time. "(From The singing voice of Eloy Tizon)




This thought had haunted me unconsciously recent months, but last night Joseps all you who are behind this campaign of Coca-Cola ( do not forget that this is marketing, and I another link buzz, but who cares?), you helped me see me, I could not help my skin prickled chill joyful tears of grief and happy when I knew at once to ensure that as for some time had stopped shaking time.




"Do not dawdle and go to find what makes you happy. You are here to be happy. Uncover your happiness "


Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Red Veins Back Of Throat

time and we will make a gift



A GIFT AND YOU WILL
(Congratulations advanced - April 22 Day of Mother Earth)

And Mother Earth
fields sprouted and patient care in her womb

and opened its meat to give birth
and scratched off your skin to start again

Heaven's friend wet with tears, sobs
, other times the drowning sorrows
But she always dried

Y the gentle wind embraced her friend
But sometimes the breaking or lashed
But she always understood And the friend

sun warmed
But sometimes burned or forgot
But she always forgave him

But I was not happy
And
concerned friends met,

all but one,

and thought and thought and decided that they would make a gift

a lover that will brighten your night and morning again



sky's friend, sending rays that cut wind
and friend blew
shape as the friend sun grew heated until

And mother earth shook and roared with pleasure
and awarded her lover to earthquake that measured the level of their orgasms

But the mother earth shook again but terror when he saw, chain saw and ax in hand wander to her lover, the one who did not attend the meeting to end his sorrow
,
the male friend.













Monday, February 16, 2009

Mouth Piece For Braces'

Mirror, mirror magic





and erect a temple to the dreams - Joseph Joubert



matters stumble And three, four times if you love up, you redeem - M. Benedetti



Mirror magic mirror


Temple
I'm not good talking about myself, what to say, or just above me, Temple, I am what I am but not always what they represent.



And again you're not punk, not included as a mobile without a battery, moved into the inside pocket of my purse hook, satellite orbits or other clueless perhaps too far, I look to you, mirror, mirror magic looking for answers.



Mogano wood mirror, narrow and long, bending over his tripod trying to beat you seem to pick on your windmill blade, lanky viewer my excesses, not looking at you to sneak the old queen, I just want to see me, see me as I see you, the object of your desire, think body without a soul, and open myself to you, and for a moment away the darkness makes more obvious counterpoint to the pain, dark clear where my eyes reflect the waking hours of thinking and living, the tragedy of not forgetting, of longing that I have hurt and happiness sterile batter into the remains of what might be, accident or fate.



and defeated my knees on the soft feel of the park keep the balance of composure, like Alice looking through my mirror, I find the other side where everything is equal but everything goes in the opposite direction, reverse my universe where my white knight will fit your foot right in my left shoe.



no longer seek the world of fantasy but the reality is altered and why I believe you guess the other side, I hear my name in your mouth, do not touch me but I feel like my skin bristles at the way your eyes and drop my sex springs excited as freshly cut fig tree and I imagine that we stand, as I like, against my ass you cold hits your glass and your eyes looking for me squirm, but only find a mirror without reflection, an image almost diffuse vampirized for you, not only the right to float fatua , Idle fancy, or even see where masks sometimes say more about us than our faces.



Listen you, behind the mirror, not for me to give advice, I see, I'm here too, in front of you smeared your body with brine and although it hurts, encájate a smile and fly, the show must go on, the fairy tales will grow but never die.



And remember, you can always fly now The show must go on!








Polskie Zbytki Na Ukrainie

Prelude Mirror, mirror magic

When reality does not fit the world, play in my mirror where everything stays the same but everything is reversed.
Dracula - Love Remembered Kilar

"There are no doors - Octavio Paz says - There are mirrors. "
returns oneself to oneself,"
ever face to face myself,
broke up my face in the mirror
were you my own face, that ice cream
reflection of death?
life are asked and answered, death.
But death does not answer. "
The Ninth Gate - Vocalise of Kilar performed by Sumi Jo

Saturday, February 14, 2009

What Do I Do With My Dog Who Died

A calm to my senses orgy

My Life Before Me - Wojciech Kilar - Gustav Klimt



An orgy calm to my senses

As a creature of habit, some time ago I found among my favorite matches recurring cyclical woman who seeks the blue sea from its deadly and time they lived in their immortal, almost all were modernists.

Sometimes, as a foreigner, my nose hint Els Quatre Gats hoping that I displayed the spirit of some of them and believe loitering between modernist facades revive past scenes.

My delivery was a few years late, I would have been great-grandmother my mother, I would have been better as my grandfather because it would not be a missed call, a Camille Claudel living in the shadow of my passion, my lewd Rodin on duty, after which the hide,

would have been invited to Rusiñol

apprentice Gaudí, Victor Horta,

model Alfons Mucha,

My Puccini's Mimi,

quiet inspiration to Satie, Debussi,

uncertain for tomorrow Pessoa,

hope for Mário de Sá Carneiro,


lips were kissed by Klimt

the ideal of a blue dream to Rubén Darío and his blue back to my sea

many others expect.

A beautiful trio, Klimt, Satie and Kilar, invited to the soundtrack of my life, my senses leap from one to another, passion is my skin fresh shaken, crazy eyes and ears gradually subside and let me do, I know tomorrow will bring Not What - do not know what tomorrow will bring (last text by Fernando Pessoa)

Gustav Klimt - Gymnopedie - Erik Satie

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Pregnancy Simulator Online Game

will ... ... Indignation


... these days, if Eluana Englaro in Italy and its right or not to die, I have been reflecting on the possibility of I find myself someday in the same situation as her ...


... and that is why, today, before it later, I would say to anyone or that you read these words, and I know that if one day I find myself lying in a bed, unable to fend for myself or to communicate, you please do everything possible to leave this world soon and well, at least I can do with the reassurance that no one will spend his life with a Tukano bed that has lost its ability to fly ...