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What is Christmas? Anointed

"And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. " Luke 2:7






First that comes to mind in this time of Christmas is food, clothing, family, holidays, celebrations, gifts, etc.. But it really is that we should celebrate Christmas?



Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus, but many of us know that biblically not born in this period, but the world has taken this date to celebrate his birth.



Is it wrong to celebrate Christmas?, I personally believe that if our goal was to celebrate the birth of Jesus, we would have to wait once a year to celebrate, since Jesus is born every day in many hearts decide has allow him to dwell on them.



not confuse the birth of Jesus with pagan festivals, parties that far from bringing order to surrender to the King of kings and Lord of lords, have other objectives that have nothing to do with pleasing God.



These days there are as many robberies, the highest number of accidents, children burned by the bad use of gunpowder and many other things, that far from being good is bad. Could this be the Christmas that Jesus wants us to celebrate?



For me Christmas is the birth of Jesus in many hearts, one day was Christmas in my life, because Jesus was born in my heart and to this day is here. My main goal in life is celebrated every day, how?, Fantastic as easy as trying to lead an orderly life and pleasing to Him, a life that by all means look for his birth in my heart is desire to want be holy because He is.

My friend, that this time your number one goal is to remember that Jesus has been born in your heart and body have to celebrate every day of your life by saying no to sin and if the holy life that Jesus want to take it.

And if you read me you have not yet committed your life to Jesus, let Christmas come into your life, Jesus is born in your heart, yet I gave you eternal life.
did not come to earth to be celebrated, he came to earth to die for you so that you now live for Him and for Him

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A Force DA


"That força da Arte freedom and exalts us!
That spread or love, or love, e seja fruitful. "

(Staëll Di Lukka)


that thought Sempre na Arte, e em all as Criativa ativity and artistic-me a ideia appears that this "fazer" tem uma benign potência and transforming indubitable and unimaginable! ... I am glad to think that art in its many forms and variations, can help human beings to be happier, to free themselves from their fears, pain and anguish, always finding new ways and means to reinvent the very existence , experience and history.

Create some sort of art is part of human life in all times and places, and this practice has always been beneficial and important, vital to the survival of our sensitivity to the reunion of constant joy, warmth and color of movement and freedom! We created when we think when we talk, when we risk achieving dreams and projects ... and do art also of life itself, when we allow ourselves to practice endless reinvention of himself and of our desire, our energies, our feeling and thinking, our history ...

Literature, painting, dance, music, poetry ... so many ways to translate the love of life, the longing for the Good, the desire for harmony! ... That every day and every hour we are opportunities to make art, love and learn, to get in and out of us the creative power, strength and courage that compels us to unceasing discovery of tenderness, brotherhood, of the singularities we make unique and valuable, despite our smallness and fragility.

Clarice Lispector wrote about necessity and possibility of discovering the "extraordinary" hidden in the cracks and folds of the everyday banal. She, like other artists and visionaries, like other lovers souls of Life and Art, he realized that the miracle exists and happens every day, at every moment, now, on each inhalation and exhalation in every move, nuance and pulse. The miracle happens all the time, when there is love and sensitivity, candor and compassion, hope. When we believe there is!

That the life of each can of us who participated in this group and work, either as an instrument for the propagation and planting of power: that we may discover and share the power of art and affection, and experience the miracle of love in every day and seasons, whatever the tides, the tones, fears or desires of every human being, creative and pulsing, which dreams and breathes on this planet. The particles, fractions or portions of love and art, light and joy, peace and joy that each one can produce and propagate, keep the universe balanced, lively, sparkling! My

hope the New Year is a time of bright and beautiful plantings! Kisses and hugs to all winged and men.

(Ana Luisa Kaminski)

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"After months without writing today I found a friend who encouraged me to
rewriting."


I stay with my days, including nights burning the flesh,
of blood and the threshold of my fears ....
are my last steps that can be heard waking
in the middle of desire have to nail these words,
static and roving passenger collapsed awake from
dust sand and earth on the verge of "Delirio"
curses collapse in a year I think shaken by events
mandatory.


Camino is a lot, go around with you,
misery will lonely road with me,
on Avenue heard the little storm ...
I have many arguments. Yes I cry so many times,
I thought you forget. Apart from my human life,
universal reading ...
I become a passenger in a book rocked
bursts of my mind are the steps I give
between verses that away from me the desire to feel
Death poetic writing prompts.


Enigmas thoughts locked in
weave and intertwine to look at these words.
front of me, hoping to tear chips
drawn to this space are the verses of
words I write and go to step ...

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ART HORIZON ... Plagiarism



HORIZON

In life against so many good thing. The dawning sun, slipping sweetly and dyeing of gold, ruby \u200b\u200band turquoise expanse, the rain that causes the birds to spread wings, beak and little feathers to receive it themselves, chirping with glee, and plants that seem to sing each drop-received gift.
could list each of these miracles, all the time, hours and days, but must tell you that what always puzzles me in life, besides the constant wonder, is to think the skyline. The perennial
fact is that where you are and where to turn my face toward the cardinal points of all, there is always a horizon full of possibilities, which seems to expect from my first days of life. And he is and has always been there.
I know then that could walk in his direction, at any point throughout their lives and how much wished for, maybe one day, learn a lesson in infinity. I'll be the starting point, which is also the arrival, which teaches us that the day they follow behind the horizon, the beginning and end merge, merge and no longer linger over any of these concepts beyond the infinite continuum.
Maybe. Yeah, maybe this is also the concept of life. Maybe someday, who knows that the millennium, a "Let there be light and there was light" began this mine or your earthly existence for us to follow in perpetuity, in straight lines, curved, circular, whole or broken - no matter - winning cycles, toward the horizon telluric, cosmic, who knows what dimension - since there are so many - beyond the three that we have got .
Yes, the horizon is as exciting as magical, miraculous. My definition is modest in the face of such greatness. Missing synonyms, adjectives. Still, I can think of, and thinking there are no limits. And why not have limits, both to think and to desire, it occurs to me right now that anything would be worth immortality if he could not take with me some wonderful gift. For the incredible change in our area, come in and crumbling, with each cycle, the only good that can keep the feelings of immortality are, we can feel.
these, love is an absolute blessing. And this is what suits me, I hope, for which I live. Love in all its manifestations. The pinnacle of divine inheritance that is within each of us and that, before and after the breath of life in the escape, and remains with us. Forever and ever. Interestingly
wander dazed thoughts. I started and finished on the horizon in love. As the endless nothing is ending, I love the e. .. follow to see where it goes.

(TEXT LARA Lunn)

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Where is my life, I? Pedro Salinas

Everything was fine until I saw my footprints.

found love
lying on a star that trembled in expectation. Tenderly

drew on each sheet of paper
to dream one night and ate
silence.


http://vivirparacontarlaconpoesia.blogspot.com
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This is the Anointed Group: A group that cumbia is dedicated to making Christian.
Son de Goya, Corrientes and let them watch this video to a trial.
Many blessings and keep visiting and supporting these ministries.
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BIRDS WING NO REVERSE the stoning of Sakineh Mohammadi Bastian

I feel torn, hurt, and I can stand much violence mancillada.No.
I would like to put your hand and look them in the face. I
it. NO
the stoning of Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani
So many blows are arrogant cowardice raised under the sign of an absent god.

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Mom I want to be a rock star I dreamed I dreamed ...

Mom want to be a rock star. I get on the beard of life and pull them tight. I want to show feverish and cause mass insanity. I want to be big, more than life, even for just a second. Do not ask to be an artist, I seek to transcend, or create anything, not connecting with anyone. I just want to win, look for a moment how it feels to be a God and be enthroned, and enjoy the wildest sex with Encocado Quiceañeras and cause fainting, and destroying hotels. Do not ask for much, Mom, just give me that. Concédemelo and be happy. I want my body to inflate with drugs and alcohol, and make me fly, and the rest I look from below. And I adore, and I hate you, and kiss me and spit me after I kissed her, and that the world surrender to my feet, and to draw a picture of my ass on the cover of a magazine. I only ask that mom. It costs you nothing to get it to me. I guitar break on the floor, and cry in my step and give me all the desires, and become stupid, and forget who I am. And to mistreat my surroundings, and yet still love me, love me even more. I want to be an agent of the devil and make thousands follow me, and call us Legion. I collect virgin, and trafficking in people's lives, that all my whims are fulfilled immediately, and every luxury while I get bored. It need not be so difficult mother. You can do it for me. Make it a rock star, and we all look at the bottom and I want to be in my place. Make my life a roller coaster. Find a point as high as possible and throw me into there. You do just that, give me the momentum, I'll take care of the rest. I'll take the fall and leave a beautiful corpse.

Héctor Gomis
http://uncuentoalasemana.blogspot.com

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Youth Ministry wishes all mothers a happy day, God bless a lot to each one.

"Your arms always open when I wanted a hug. Your heart understood when I needed a friend. Your tender eyes hardened when I needed a lesson. Your strength and love guided me and gave me wings to fly."

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Guests at the Great Campaigns of Faith and Miracles

The asit invite to one of the great campaigns of Faith and Miracles relize be on Saturday October 16th of this year .. The time is at 20 pm. Look forward to your presence, we assure you will not regret.

Very Good Day.

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A BRIGHT

; I dreamed I dreamed last night,

that magic was born in my hands,

that flowed from my lips the words ...

mysterious ... magic ... dream ...

authorities were mine,

who dreamed up the words,

spells ... nothing more than dreams ...

dreamed I dreamed last night ...

... fueling the fire salamanders

feed the fire that illuminates the dreams.

gnomes that lurk in the night, come and go

creating illusions.

Ondinas riding on waves,
ordered at will foam and salt.

Sylphs that control the winds, gusts

encourage that devastate with grief and loneliness.

Gods of Olympus,
makers of legends, let
rays
sail back to celestial space has been empty
the mythical ancient belief. Hercules


again perform their jobs, representing
be
has to evolve. That

anime again
Merlin Round Table knights who gave their lives

for the Holy Grail.

that chimeras, horrendous figures, fantastic
by re-animating the art
Muses,
in her virginal beauty
want them and you give

Phoenix, incendialo all day
another show again with the same beauty
you
slides when rising from your ashes
a thousand times more ...

dreamed I dreamed last night ...

in dreams quedó nada más...

qué daría porque, del sueño,

las palabras mágicas

se hicieran realidad...

Julio 2010

Blogalaxia Tags: poems stories microstories reflections writers

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Women Weting Them Selves

am a woman who is losing
last memory of me
deleted
with roses in the skin and meat
verses.

I fall myself.

conjugating the verb to be, the verb to love and live

total life as a warrior,
fierce, silent, powerful singing

wandering on each side of brightness, the distance.

Without nostalgia
most other lips lips
and flower blossom
when escape is linked to the
plain air and return to be narrowed
around me. Close distance


when conjugated verb to be
again and I feel that we can have a thousand silences

parallel in a surprising
inexplicable glow mouth. Mónica López

Bordon

http://vivirparacontarlaconpoesia.blogspot.com

* Table: "Mirror of stations in the Alhambra" by Andres Rueda

http://andresrueda.blogspot. com

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Faith and Miracles

We invite you to participate in the Big Campaign will take place on October 16 to 20 pm, at the United Youth Club, dela city of Goya, want and need to have your presence.

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Visit Invitation

If you want to see videos and photos of the activities of the youth of the Christian Congregation of Goya, for now visit: htttp: / / www.youtube.com / fermonzon

Many blessings and hope have their presence at the meetings on: Saturdays at 20 pm and Sunday 9:30 am and 20 pm evening.

Blessings.

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I awakened from a quiet,
insurance is a love which you offer me
is a spell that awakens my feelings, thinking
between the blood drip
our veins, I see your humanity and my lips
wish you pain and anxiety.

take between the delirium of your kisses
sighs of meat, steal your soul the pleasure
is in the blood.
undress your skin tearing modesty between drops of dew
bathe me with your sweat.

'll kiss your soul, make you feel
woman, I will not to love mercy
death will not stop me.
I will travel through your body coming to your belly
harmless.
Let my tongue through each room, each curve
distilling the passion
accelerating the heart ...

I will become a passenger in your body
the pace of one two, the sway of your hips
I have to wake up.
distilled Errante is tenderness in our arms,
with kisses and burning desire for the skin.

My God is cursed. And my soul devours you
Pecora in looks that are stuck into the pupil of an
perplexed improvises this sky blue ...

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invite you to participate in youth group meetings on Saturdays at 20 pm in B. Mitre 1337.
look forward to your presence, dear boy, so you can enjoy the communion between brothers.

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DESOLATION ON THE REMOTE

walk on hot coals

the soul is hanging by a thread.

Without words, without sounds

crossed the desolate abyss.

From my wings torn off,

of my sword that has fallen

of my being angelic

has been

absorbed in the Road .

That has become gloomy

my song

and if singing , delirium.

In fact so well

has been

my poor broken heart.

I bandaged eyes,

I have sewn their lips

not to howl my tears

the cries of fate.

ominous bird passed

covering with his feathers

the road.

Road toads and snakes,

sterile colors and lilies,

dry clay soil that is party ...

wake up in a crying,

how sad that was

see in such desolation

to that fallen angel ...

July 2010

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... I wonder, friend, Special Friends Day July 20. Cinzas and Cintilâncias

And I wonder ..., my friend.

And I wonder ... friend.

That was you ...?

Perhaps the road is narrow

and follow the established fear.

To return to your home

and visit your friends.

may seek green pastures where

lie down,

and just miss

in your dreams and fantasies. Where

not impose barriers,

with clear, sunny days

where there is darkness.

That place exists

friend

thou shalt not look

I always carry with you ...

you just have to look inward

and rescue,

for in your heart you to find it.

Angels Martínez

July 2010

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As the melody of a humble
forgotten frantic wail. Your wicked mouth
haunts me and conjures
; Candente wish

exquisitely violent and rhythmic, his tongue in every kiss
over me ...
Pecora is a soul, a cold and distant gaze;
desiring are his hands, running through my body
dangerously full of burning desire to go down,
for my sins hips filling my soul
heretical, unbelieving and Safia. Existence
orgasms blessed
exquisite frantically in a swinging hips,
soft movements our bodies convulse
fruitful in bed ...


out of your mouth I hear the roar, a groan, as
hypnotic siren is your religion that dazzles
and fills me with memories that make mourn which are
my head that make me burst escape
sensations that feel your body and aroma I can not calm
...
Now, your lips, your eyes, and your waist
drag me into madness every night.
know you're captivating manage your charms and
cover me with your veils sepulchral silence and harmonious senile.
your network collects fish every night. And I who will be "
shadow of a story?, A minute of your faith who mitigates your pleasure ...


I still believe, I keep looking.
If I believe in the Holy Trinity, in your hips, your eyes,
on your lips and mouth, the sublime I love you desire in
you speak with sweetness that becomes dictatorship ...

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to wake up to life pulsating, vibrating, which Vaza, singing, every minute and moment !!!... e numb, às vezes, Cobert by Cinzas do everyday, which obscurecem or exuberant colors and lively two instances, when sorbed with intensity, desire, passion! ... May also have to sleep and wake, many times during the course vital, just not to forget our fragility and strength, to remind us every day and hour, the finiteness of such endless fabric: embroider on the wires that, in involve and snared, the lines we draw, lead, interwoven, warp and incessant preposterous history. Perhaps we need to wake up and fall asleep to dream, to be reinvented colors and hopes, that cintilâncias glimpse in the cracks of the day to day mundane ...


Thus, we glimpse the flashes of affection, love and art, the openings the evenings, mornings, for months, crossing the centuries, turning in the world, the stars, constellations ... Who knows, risking ourselves to flights and crossings, and we travel, drifting, sometimes blissful light blue-purple, interspersed with turquoise, Alizarim, violet, and sprinkled with green and coral, where we can feel the soul dancing to the four winds in the direction of this knowledge insabido and volatile, but profound, that moves us, challenges us, drives! ... Since then, however, yet ... so we need courage to navigate between ash and cintilâncias, falling asleep and waking, feeding the hopes, exercising their wings, every night, every hour, every you days!


TEXT ANA LUISA Kaminski

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dig up the past sunsets
hear rustling in the twilight
the cries of those winter afternoons;
the great beating heart of a busy
by its forms, including wrinkles rock
make you feel the trumpets of misfortune
accusatory accumulated over the years of guilt.

On all the stubbornness of my life, visions fall
and sin which flares at its image, its curves
still aroused feelings of youth ancestral
in which every year meaningless by the panic
destination immaculate lack of direction,
voiceless sweet your moans from
grave and headstone of my years.

Now I'll see you in hell, I will be guilty of
my life, not Having A chosen, I will be I who despise and put
years to oblivion.
eternity In my poetry, will religion be broken, militancy,
criticism and praise.
But who reigns but the female with her hips sense with
his body and his clothes, the smell of her hair
devastates us and excites us, the wine enhances the senses, makes fun of me life ...
A Cup of my life encouraged me to write in this universe
some verses, and tired of being the immortality of
words, I do renew the ring in my hand, as
who renewed their vows, prompting yearnings, go to church on Sundays
to understand the passing of the era, increasing
winters on winter memories children, the
females who passed through my life and my upbringing before aging
...

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Goodbye Time

The storm had begun a couple of hours
ago, the wind whipped the window and you're not bowing.
the clock runs out my conscience, in the cold this town,
while at times the earth trembles, not stop shaking!.


I have exhausted the dose of cigarettes and coffee I have in the nightstand.
sequels have not once told me ...
And now you get to get me!, To be tonight with
the heat of my body. What I can think of?.
dying while I look horrible moments in my chest
beating been the desire of euphoria, my body begs to be between your legs, without Inmagine
every second prior to your arrival.


But the cold eyes of lovers, sitting on the floor in front
desolate bed, we said will be the last time our bodies are
together without words, our eyes said .. . There
orgasm was seen endless agony and cursed my skin
in your heart that night.

Yeah you stabbed my dreams once mindless strumming
artery and bled like a dagger, runoff from me the pleasure of looking
drink this cold, rainy night.
Now give me back, there is silence in the environment, I do not regret
to have you in this way as borderline, as your dress for you say goodbye I
my expressionless face and uneasy look in the mirror ...

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MY VERSES

I am a sincere man
from which comes the joke,
where the puck and the salt
homeless. There

time has stopped
and space is infinite, beyond all
has become
nicer.

And a song, stupid or wise,
gives fire to his joy,
but is so angry
yet. There

the Sun, with a hug,
he retired
and sleeps in the lap
of the sea.

Then, each morning,
heal your wounds,
and the tears of yesterday
forget them.

That there is so beautiful rhymes
the fact of life, even if there are

many things to say.

And no song with more verve and
truth
promised that own
challenge of your life.

I would also, however,
as the great José Martí,
leave the verses that I
there.

verses my eyes,
hearty and simple,
blue lines and red and yellow
.

And of all the colors,
and no cheating, no cheating,
that rhymes and flowers
not hurt. Verses

simple, without spurs,
or bitterness or pain, without militias
, without schools,
only love.

Before the river
calm of the sea will die,
verses from my soul I
share.

Jesús María Bustelo Acevedo

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June 12, 2010 - We continue with the Great Campaigns of Faith and Power of God

MEETINGS GREAT FAITH AND MIRACLES

June 12, 2010

From 20 pm.

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Goya - Corrientes - Argentina

not miss your chance to find your way

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Forgetfulness

Vigilante in the past
evolved as the tornado
write my name with the brand
of a new year;


till you drop,
still on my face y perplejo, 
cerraré el capitulo pasado en el
presente que me queda descrito 
en las letras y vivencias de la red 
y experiencia ...


El cielo se oscurece al amanecer en la gris 
humadera incierta construida al paso 
invisible que marca mis  pisadas
¡y mis ojos! ¿qué han de ver en este ciclo?


Noches deseantes de mujeres en el candor de la 
innocence that everyone loves you.
natural cycle is the flight of birds,
changing experiences, the day he was born, death experience. Too

knew it was moments such
high as the eagle was I who had to understand that
cycles have to change and the emerging contact
the world will change my status ;

Among dementia that makes me forget to load on the shoulders
protests canes hidden in the livid
desire to have another fall ... Toxic
is the thought that I hide in storms of
forests that cover life, my anger in the anger of the changes
natural experiment.
bristles you exhale my skin waiting for your body again
renombrarte and put a price on these years ...

PDTA: Written on my birthday.

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Daily



pull the silence was leaving gaps in the transition and transfer of that time forgot.
undertaken with the slow pace of the return route which would not be given.
those steps would be outstanding.
focus itself the taut strings of the bow.
Hendiría knee on the stone floor of the mole unrepentant.
spiral would be arranging fences in your mind.
march to drag along the track.
plaintiff would tear tracks on fine cambric cloth.
who approached him that day were words that embroiled their souls. That
thought of what happened.
Now I have to do dry, even if that happens cloth rubbing his eyes.
Nothing will be able to return to the point that he knew not endure.