The day of rage
happens often that words fail to embrace the jumble of feelings that you carry within. Surely today can not do it.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Brent Corrigan Closer Streaming
Inneres vogue
a pack of wolves howling down from the highlands
or a swarm of bees
avid devourer of petals perfume
fall like boulders rolling
by tall mountains in ruins.
one says that's wrong to hold private parties with pretty girls
to cheer primary and servants of the state?
not
and we understood why we should also pay extra to the stoned?
what they can read the reigns only money?
justice is nothing but a public good ...
what charlatans and swindlers
would live if they had no hard cash to throw
as love among people.
line horizontal moves us towards the matter,
vertical towards the spirit.
with closed eyes glimpsed a glimmer
that with time and it takes patience,
opens the inner eye:
Inneres auge, das innere Auge
the horizontal line leads us to the subject,
spirit towards the vertical.
the horizontal line leads us to the subject,
spirit towards the vertical.
but when I get back to me, on my way
,
to read and study,
listening to the greats of the past ... I just
a sonata by Corelli,
because I wonder of creation!
spirituality and culture, the combination that can save us from nothing policy and soul of so many governments seem asleep in a deep sleep that fakes them and has them in his fist.
even the most petty injustice seems not normalized in this state of indignation.
tonight I feel sick listening to the news (infoentrateinment now), the radio or reading newspapers is reaching the peak. I can not stand certain things, certain controversies.
I wonder, but that was alive ????? thieves, scammers, charlatans in government and the Italians are not outraged ... is incredible. I am proud of our past but not part of the Italian people of today ... is not able to awaken their conscience, their sense of justice .. just believe in bullshit like the image, social status, money, the big brother, to proclaim rather than to the facts, the slogan that smell of dictatorship instead of democracy!
the only sign of life of the passive mass as the only God has the money and racism (and today the news of the raid on an internet point Bengali) ... just because the other, we fear DISTINCTIONS and could call into question our social status ...
but as a song by Tozzi said a few years ago, "the other is us."
only ignorance fear the richness of diversity.
How
a pack of wolves howling down from the highlands
or a swarm of bees
avid devourer of petals perfume
fall like boulders rolling
by tall mountains in ruins.
one says that's wrong to hold private parties with pretty girls
to cheer primary and servants of the state?
not
and we understood why we should also pay extra to the stoned?
what they can read the reigns only money?
justice is nothing but a public good ...
what charlatans and swindlers
would live if they had no hard cash to throw
as love among people.
line horizontal moves us towards the matter,
vertical towards the spirit.
with closed eyes glimpsed a glimmer
that with time and it takes patience,
opens the inner eye:
Inneres auge, das innere Auge
the horizontal line leads us to the subject,
spirit towards the vertical.
the horizontal line leads us to the subject,
spirit towards the vertical.
but when I get back to me, on my way
,
to read and study,
listening to the greats of the past ... I just
a sonata by Corelli,
because I wonder of creation!
Rikers Iskand Schedule
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Millionaire Speed Boats
Tender love
"Throughout the journey, the nostalgia is not separate from me.
I'm not saying that it was my shadow.
I was standing in the dark.
I'm not saying it was like my hands and my feet.
And I did not miss the nostalgia even while you sleep.
During sleep nostalgia is not separate from me.
I'm not saying that it was hunger or thirst, or desire fresh nell'afa or warm in the cold.
was something that can not get their fill.
It was not joy or sorrow was not linked to the cities in the clouds to the songs memories.
was in me and outside me.
Throughout the journey, the nostalgia is not separate from me
And the journey is nothing if not that I miss. "
N. Hikmet
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