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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

My Muses Mad

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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

Brown And Purple Highlights

Hypnotic Ancient

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 ...