Friday, December 28, 2007

Free Movies Of Milena Velba

until next year

This is the last post I climb in 2007 as morning delivery heading to the mountains, to receive the 2008 in a place surrounded by mountains, lakes, silence ... peace.
has been a busy year, and I renew my energies to move in 2008 of equal or better, so I take my leave of you, colleagues, friends, colleagues, with my sincere wishes for prosperity, yearning for a suitable for next year. See you next year (Wednesday 02 to be precise), again through this medium.
Happy 2008, with all my heart.
Gonzalo Gareis

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Romance Novels With Harems

a tragedy of ambition

(small Kafkaesque parable)

There is an object A. Has an owner. The subject B as greed and try to take it. C and D will insist desist. B assures them he will not resign. C says that its claim to possession of A are not themselves in any way, a property right. D tells A's right to self determination. The arguments of C and D range contradictory between the instigation of resignation and apology of seduction: a A must either leave it alone, or enter it a little tame, enchant, persuade. From A to B must either not wait for anything, or do not expect more than A can or will give, and that when A decides. Ie that B wait, simply. C and D call for B to respect the sovereignty of A. There are limits to comply, they explain. There is a law that prohibits B have its like A. But B claims that A is theirs and not just going to take it, and not just going to take it as soon as possible, but also will not release it even if I try to take by force. B to C and D is a coward and do not hesitate to go to A. But you can not go alone: \u200b\u200bit needs to C and D, those who followed him and accompany the principle, but do not go as far that B believes that they should go. For whatever reason, B loses to A, was able to grab it with the help of C and D, but can not keep it. When you're losing, desperately asking for help once more to its partners C and D, but they call prudence. After a short fight, A is lost and B must sit for it. B because of their defeat to the cowardice of C and D. For its part, C D loaded on B all responsibility for the disaster.

Tom Delonge Tattoos Stripes

summer erotomania

What flag knitted into nothingness, thread by thread
death against this long is time? What
imagined, what I said, what a life I thought I saw, what
back of the plot of a crime is this love of wilderness,
this hand alone that you applaud?

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Milena Velba Look A Like



That sap and sun, loving, engender the green
how fragile and alive, a warm breeze caressing
the beauty of the fragile
that unscathed, beloved, how fragile beauty shine in lukewarm
air. Venceremos

love. Venceremos. The music
on our side.

Breast Tingling After Period



Two croissants, coffee, a water. A Chevy Series 2

parked between two paradises.
An open book with a mug of beer
on an oilcloth.
things waiting in the corner of 4 and 60
at 17:21. Like them, I also looked

when they speak.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Top Rated Mini Dv Prosumer Camcorders



WARNING




"do not waste M'hijo. If you do not use
round, you'll need it back ..." Jacinto

Gareis (my father)


in this little way
obtuse mine / yours / our /
other thorny roses and other plants are always

seesaws

these everyday pastimes
tragicomic way of life when gold dust is visceversa
are those who are blinded

beforehand and yet we are heirs

baqueanos own or plowing a path that is not our
but always leads to equal
destination
say this because sometimes when we
on the last play we discover

Chatinos flat and that we realize / that we are nothing ... Gonzalo

Gareis

... I wrote this poem after meeting my father's boat and thereby protected from the rain that was coming. Was given that he needed a rope to tie one end of the canvas, and what threw me. Here is where my father use the words "do not waste M'hijo. If you do not use it one way, you'll need it back" alluding to the rope that was thrown. It may seem insignificant, but that gesture led me to write these words.

Today I share with you. Simply beautiful gifts I found a bit of my story, with a couple of lines written ...


pd: Together we have written the 2nd Salome. part of the story of John and Marisa, I invite you to keep track of, and outcomes together this wonderful magic of writing ... Here: http://ladybluenet.wordpress.com/

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Haunted Places In Eastern Shore Maryland

position Soliloquies

presidents Marriage offers

Diplomacy in the jungle, ice, underwater platform (including snorkels), mediate in all types of terrain and climate. Hostage rescue, rid spells, get your lost love. Corruption case
small, medium, large, in all sizes boxes.
penal reforms immediately. University graduates accepted. phony.

CALL NOW!

Ask for Kris or the Penguin.

Fan Electricity Usage

of wise words because it is worth ... Back







Antonio Vega & Tontxu - To touch the sky

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

LOVE SUNDAY



this Sunday outside

of kids playing in the streets
pigeons flight incite elderly

holding hands watching the couple kissing with mouths that call
the premiere this Sunday

passing stranger in his land

with hours that are not
end
seeking interim periods where cumulative shelter
caresses owe you this Sunday


nearby desert and naturally because your skin
my skin is a
though we thought
and annul the distance
me this Sunday will not love you


Gonzalo Gareis

From the Blue (acrylic on canvas) - Mirna Alonso

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

POEM # 12

They look at it they sense there is a wish,
caress, kiss and naked,
inhaled, they lie, they sniff,
they penetrate, they suck, they disfigure,
to sleep, wake up, light up,
are greedy, be felt, are fascinating,
chewed, they like, drool,
confused, flattened, disintegrate,
goes dormant, die, are returning, are stretched
is arched, nodding,
twist, stretch, flare,
strangle, tighten shake,
is therefore meet, faint,
repel, is enervating, is like,
are undertaken, they are linked, collide, crouch
be imprison, dislocate,
are drilled, are embedded, are riddled,
are riveted, are grafted, are screwed,
fainted, revive, shine,
are addressed, are swollen, mad,
melted, welded, calcined,
tear, bite, they kill,
raised, is looking for, they rub,
be shunned, evaded, and delivered. Oliverio

Girondo

- - - - - -

... as a typical Sunday, as a calendar day. The difference is in the Monday, which is no longer a blue moon. So I take these words as a gift, because Sunday will be different, like the rest of the year.

Thanks for being here today.

And thanks to you to continue bringing you these letters.

A big hug, Gonzalo .-

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Royal Art Pottery Lonston

The Kirchners

on Friday December 7, 20:30 pm
presented in Rosario ...

Soliloquies, Beatriz Vignoli

Presents: Sonia Scarabelli
Reading of poems by the author

in: Space

confusion

Catamarca 1147 Rosario floor 4



I hope there will be toast! I'll

Bloons Pack 3 Level 28

Shut up, Vicente Verdú!

asked Her Majesty ...
Time

Someone needs to tell him to shut Verdú.
Verdú must tell the center from which speech is a central second, a cheesy center. Verdú have to tell the dismissive gesture with which detects and misses the upstart literature Latinos are under aristocrat itching gesture of guarango parvenu. Verdú have to tell them is ugly, very ugly to the English walk with such bad manners, contempt of seventeenth-century English slave. Someone has to explain that the old is he, that the new rich is it. Someone needs to tell that the older and better established in the European Community laugh at him behind his back with the same cool irony with which he castigates the privates, the minuets and intrigue novels of the American savages. Truth is, I would say, petty goings widows very least pose as a Hollywood screenwriter with a portable Olympia typewriter model 1945 in the age of email, chat, blog, fotolog, bluetooth, infrared sight, painless hair removal and light yogurt. But Faulkner revived its claim must be laughing in hell the very Baroness Thatcher.
Someone needs to tell Verdú that he is a lapdog of the empire, but decadent empires: to warn you that someone will notify their aesthetic categories Verdú Modernist and are old in a center that went out of fashion too, because even the Baroness stop laughing in hell if China attack.

(NOTE: This is referred to the note on the front page of the supplement Ñ this week)

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Nfl Players In Jockstraps







"Mercedes Sosa - As the cicada"


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


TRANSPARENCIES



opens dark mantle in its immensity
find me alone, acquitted, next.
While the Sanskrit minutes elapse
clarifying the shadows, warns top lantern
past penalties on me.

Nothing is so far, nothing is erased but
icy blow, removing the sand grains

the absence or penalties to achieve the wash crying, from the top
of memory. Meanwhile

the curtain falls on this huge curtain
daily.

So the years go by day and slowly

overlooks the white face and round my sorrows.
And so strongly, I find myself in a mirror


and I'm not
but my reflection.



Gonzalo Gareis
December - 2007


... I'm returning to my roots inside, my place, my things. I'm coming back to me. To believe, to make, to build. It is not easy when one felt stripped of everything, but it is not difficult when one intends to rebuild. Today I return to me, so I'm coming to you, this adventure of life. Missing a piece of me and I am reunited with him. It will be a breakthrough, or small, does not matter. is progress and that's enough.


"Whoever has something why live, is able to support any how" - Nietzsche

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Carbon Taste In Mouth

Subject: RE: Are you still there?

friendships-friendships there and there (for me at least) friendships-fuse. Friendships are the low-fuse the literary work, arguably, slightly overestimating the role of literature, in fact are low, period. Although not happen to coincide with the opening of a new topic in a new book. Friendships-fuse, as its name suggests, are those who jump into pieces so they do not jump on pieces back. It is always new friends. For some reason it seems that it is easier to tell certain things to a stranger, someone who knows a little time, a friend of several years or a lifetime. And there are strange and foreign. Some friends recently the care. Care means that you never, ever going to tell me something disturbing and find the edge of syncope. Whom to talk then when anxiety increases, and neither therapy nor the writing or the blog achieved? Certain things have the kind of voltage that blows up everything. And, of course, one counts them and jump around. Let me clarify: it is to jump into pieces the other, which is shatter friendship. But it is not easy to unscrew and throw away a friendship like a fuse. That moment when a funeral is discovered too late that this stranger was no stranger. There were images, words, complicity, love, beauty of signs that had been knotting, and one is left alone with all this, as if a loved one had died. And the relief at having survived the pain expressing itself and thereby sacrificing a friendship, then diluted to understand that the cost was too high. And the relief was still mourning. The end starts with a silence (one justifiable very justifiable) in the email. Silence that threatens to become permanent: there was no time to ask for a phone number, and if there had been, at some point the disintegration of the link is no guarantee that a call will fix things. A marriage can fall apart in fifteen years, a friendship fuse, in fifteen days, five, in a particularly bad weekend in fifteen minutes. At the onset of pain followed by the even more painful struggle not to mourn, and most likely at that time you have someone close enough to destroy a link crying more and trigger an unstoppable chain reaction, a snowball effect snow. At least the crying content, such as physical emotion, it is interesting to observe. Have to put up and join forces to take note, always useful. I have been through this many times and I know that the most fucking are the first 48 hours. Support the happy scenes film parading one after another like a montage of scenes mersa silent with soundtrack of the Oscar-nominated song. Helpful to think of friends who are, friendships-friendships that just at the same time affirm and deepen, their papers and thinking in their kisses and the joy of their reunion (if they knew if they knew!) Hope it helps to think new friendships (if you know!), but alas abandoned passwords, and from the look of eyes forever lost, broken complicity ay, ay nicknames again not pronounce. Best
not entirely lose hope that maybe tomorrow in the box Email displayed something. A miracle, " Subject: RE: Are you still there? ." I used to think it was better not to open the mail until we have full confidence that he would be able to withstand not find the email miraculous. Now I prefer to just open and weather the shocks, and get me the question ... No, it is not in doubt: the certainty that there will be nothing and WHILE waiting for the miracle. Another is to keep sending emails that no longer are confident that will be open, but that can backfire, destroying the last remnant of that friendship so short and fragile and that was crushed by his own anxiety as a seedling which passes by a steamroller above.
It is best to leave with dignity: a good-bye email, but that seems to bounce, because that would be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Apologize, just in case, but with height. And repeated that phrase to an end of that novel that Chandler's "Farewell, friend. Do not say goodbye."

UPDATE 30/11: ¡¡¡¡¡ WROTE ME !!!!!!!!!!!!!
I replied and now I'm going to breakfast.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Funny 25th Birthday Quotes

Men, horses, tigers, trees and sea

Men. As a child I was always fascinated by these strange creatures great and reconcentrated lively and intense, strong and silent as horses or tigers or trees, but more beautiful even than the horses and tigers and the trees. The men of my childhood were quietly sad and were always tired and always had something to do with my father. I liked the hand to lead them to places, talk to them and make them laugh. My mother feared them. My father uninvited whiskey. I was happy if he could play chess with them or touch their songs on the piano. I liked their deep voices and the smell of their bodies. I saw them sweating under the weight of a load or greased in unequal combat with a motor, and admired. A man is serious. I liked and I like men almost as much as I disliked and I dislike children. But get too involved with the first may generate the second, so I have a problem.
I'm afraid a little in that famous issue of pride. My mother insisted it too much. Maybe too much. But then to me, nothing pleases me as much as the admiration of the proud men, when they find in me qualities that they believed unique. Then I feel I'm a bit them, and that makes me happy, because I like as much as you can get close to them, even if I get close enough to bear children, I find it insufficient. I like to feel engulfed by the look of admiration of a proud man. And later I realize that this view puts too much distance. And I want to be closer, I want to lead them out to a place. I want to feel close to their odors. And watch his eyes closely. Would suffice one, one in particular. A strong man who has sweated under a load and has endured and admire me for having endured while not as strong.
Men are like songs. Every man, for me, has its shape and color and song. Men give advice. English I do not forget that one night in Mar del Plata told me that we must stand and fight, stand up and fight. " And we take forty beers, we at dawn. Neither the merchant marine who told me "You and I are brave: I'll get on the high seas, you you mess with the word" and the next day introduced me to his mother. Men have saved my life. Always a man saves me from dying from despair by another man. And everything is a drama serene and civilized as a novel by Somerset Maugham.
I love men.
Not all, but some love them.
And others just loved them.

How To Put On A Double Loop Belt

Day against violence against women MONTENEGRO

Today, November 25, I dedicate this post to a subtle form of violence against women: mobbing, bullying in the professional field or in the workplace. Mobbing is often the continuation of sexual harassment. Or a sex malformed and misunderstood, by some men (and many still, unfortunately), as conquest and / or destruction of the woman and not as an equal dialogue with their own needs and rights. So dear sir colleague, boss, colleague, were that "Minita" that dresses stand shoulder to shoulder with you and whom you perceived perhaps as an illegitimate "invasion" of "your" space, but you did not give you hot or hour (or because neither the question, gil! or why not), you would not you have absolutely no right to "revenge" by using your right or wrong portion gained power to adversely affect not only against him, destroying or attempting to destroy his career, not for me! call him a paranoid if it detect and report your foul play. You're a MAN, a mere mortal, and do not pretend to act like a pagan god who throws thunderbolts your child resists whim, because what you end up being a RAT.
dedicate these reflections to all readers but especially to my "ex? friend, fellow poet and former long section chief, Prof. MP, with charity and compassion you deserve to be a SICK (curable) and the remains of the great love anything tiny that he once had.
And in honor of the great love that could not be.
And that could not be, in large part also because my self-esteem had been weakened by years and years of domestic violence, emotional abuse and discrimination.
The latter is the party of which I deal itself, it has to do with my story, and (with help) try to reverse.
So I provide on this day for happiness and respect that women deserve. We are not masochists, not want to suffer. Patiently endured the missiles to pull us because we defend our land with dignity, that with effort and struggle of just three or four generations of liberated women have won.
But patience is over.
So, dude, FUCK NO MORE.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Whats The Best Browser,for Xp



Warriors were out of nowhere, our logo
a tear of cloud
entrenched in a fold of the expected wind
time, while only inexhaustible
almost eternal lovers and pale wavering candle

in the useless pen indigo light.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

President Jackson Diagramm

War of the Saints

let me reach. For all a blast
to wind a strip of light.

This lightning hit from as far
can only be part of something.

All wreck waiting.
This will not last.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Free Indian Channel Freguencies Nomber

The Battle of Wuthering Heights

(soliloquy for Heathcliff)

Wading blood from the heart now, its depth
tibia. Neither advance nor surrender,

nothing here to win or that belongs to me except to know that we will die

and wish all hold the glow phosphorescent

of that consciousness, not be alone there. Fearing
pat-hiriéndote-
that we both know,
lambs both;
afraid of your pain, your sweet shadow, fearing
enjoy the echo of my death on your body
I stop, Catherine beloved
nail me in the water of time,
I give way to the fear of crossing the desert

me and I am my heath.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Brent Corrigan & Brent Everett

cuis day of the bird

While typing, copying a paper where I wrote them by hand because I do not trust the diskettes or CDs, the latest errata for the last galley proof of my next novella in the series of which goes to press Atopy morning and printed out on Thursday, I consoled my temporary lack of internet to witness the discussion that takes place in the cyber Shell: rain or no rain? "Boludos, no, I think to myself. Because before you leave I saw one of the guinea pigs Deivid, Rita Savage was on the balcony. And if a cautious guinea pigs as Rita comes to the balcony is NOT going to rain. At first I did not trust it either and I decided to take the umbrella itself, new sunglasses that I bought at the mall Alto Atopy, no. Or one or the other. But a break in the clouds Rita trust me: I retraced my steps and not to climb the stairs again, I left the umbrella locked in our mailbox.
Yesterday, plus new glasses, I bought two jazz albums for my mother, Peter Gabriel 1 for me and a bottle of mineral water. Found on the street, pulled a black suit. I hid my CD and my glasses in the bag because I saw it coming. And it was like, 'What did that bottle of mineral water, filled it with tap water or buy it? " I asked my mother. I know that the virtuous (knowing her for 42 a. as I know) would be lying to say that I took from the tap. But no. I told the truth: I told him that he had bought at the mall. It was obvious that he hated the word "shopping." Nor, it seems, you know I have really enjoyed checking account. On the way back home, I felt I ran a loop temporary ranging from the seventeenth to the twenty-first century. Robinsonian saved my honor to discover this morning that his suit was Deivid neither made to measure. That
Costume jodita lost valuable minutes that I did retrieve a vengeful driver, later determined to send me a purpose in view that I had tried to rush it so that from their point of view should be vulgar airs of the First World. I explained that, at 11:05, the municipal official who was interviewing me at 11:00 and told me unofficially "ininstitucionalizable."
Then come all this in a novel and say "what imagination."

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Milena Velba Leather Whip

same desktop

native poet Chang Tung
imitated the singing of birds. Other poets composed

variations;
Chang Tung but he always sang the same.
Where was imitated birds. The monotony offended
officials.

"But is not
and the bird sings it?
always the same song. Blessed

Tung Chang,
indistinguishable from the bird. Dann

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Online Usain Bolt Shop



The poet was not so old.
longed, however, preside
the desktop. But he had no disciples.

belonged not to cultivate patience
green.
He believed that truth
sprout out of his mouth when he had drunk enough.

"My war was expected," said Ran,
judgmental, clutching his glass of sake. Ran
account a haiku how
uploaded to another soldier who was bleeding:

and tells her shoulders shaking.

Dann's insolence is too much:
rebuke to the old unworthy.
sitting there on his throne without a kingdom, again
drunken battle against ghosts.

His first line is useless without a rear
, because no one follows. Dann
make the same mistake twice
but still believes he was right.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

New Tab Shows Untitled

visceral

Total reading success in the International Poetry Festival. I had no time or post a notice here. From 7 to 10 AM I was reviewing a translation of a manual of tactics of war, very useful thing to impress then some poets table with my general knowledge of strategy. Within certain limits: the type of imaginary war images that appeal to people who have never been in a real one. My book Ithaca (2004) found its readers. That's the good news. The bad news is that you are exhausted. The other good news is that as reeditaré. Upon request, by hand, one by one. A mail it, to pay via transfer. I chose Ithaca fragments thinking of "Haikus of war" that Martin Raninqueo read on Thursday. He just read at that time elsewhere and not heard, and I could not give the book. I have sent by email. In Soliloquies , which just came out, did not have enough copies. I could only get three for sale. And they sold. People rushed to buy it. Could have sold twenty or thirty in minutes, to have had. I could not believe it. Those are the things you read that happen to other people. A Beck, a reduced rate. It happened to me.

Raninqueo I could tell the guilt I felt in 1982. Guilt for having food, shelter and my family nearby. While they were there . I could tell. Pathetic
D'Anna boasting to him of his fear of 1976-epic tone, JB hand.
"A problem here, the generations," he murmured.

From 11 to 16 hours transcribe and translate finished my interview Cooke Allison Hedge Rosario/12 today. We recorded the interview yesterday at the Club de Pescadores. "I was talking about," Allison said finally, pointing to a sparrow behind me. He also discovered the nest.
And today, in the tape is not a sparrow chirping incessantly.

Monday, October 1, 2007

How To Cure Yellow Eyes

by Friday

My gastroenterologist is like Johnny Depp!
chronic pancreatitis I want my, I want my PC ...

But (if you have one), the hospital made me sign a clause saying that mine is a tribute to the Forn pancreatitis, so nobody accuses me of plagiarism. And

also record and make clear that Bolaño's liver had nothing to do.

Why Do Guys Masterbate In A Group

Anyway ...

... I decided to go to the doctor. Perhaps under the influence of the book I started reading, "Liquid Love" by Zygmunt Bauman (gift from my friend Delia) returned to the same gastroenterologist last year.

He remembered me. I noticed it changed: thinned and took sun. He was a chubby peaky and now, thin and tan, he looks like Johnny Depp. I'm glad to be young and beautiful, because I fear that I will need it in the next, say, 20 years.
painted green the hospital cafeteria. Now the green grass of football resonates, so say, on the walls, and makes a nice counterpoint to the courtyard of the trees reaching to be from within.

"Liquid Love" is an ode to loyalty: the book to read before buying land and bricks, or return to the homeland.

And perhaps that's why I decided to listen to "Midnite Vultures" by Beck, which eventually fell via Azureus (though it took a while).
I love.
is 50% and 50% cool freak.
How to say in my native language?
is a party, is a spinning mirror ball, strobe lights are, insane people dancing with American clothes show the seventies with spiral-shaped patterns orange and fuchsia.
is the music that I put on my next birthday.
Beck, for me you can believe in flying saucers, marry your sister or your mother, do not care.
I know it's all stolen . No matter.
I forgive you everything.

biochemical Today my new experiment called DOLOFRIX. How to explain
Dolofrix experience?
do not know. It is ineffable.
60 mg of codeine. There is no way to imagine it.

As Gogui says: we're late to everything.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Brent Corrigan In The Shower

mother board flaming lips

Diego who asked in a comment: I mean, not that I want to get in the maternal role (in case you say no plis Diego will go to your analyst with that, Oh Lord do not let me be misunderstood ) but it is advice that I gave my mother and I transmit.
There he goes. SANTO
remedy for cramps:
EAT A BANANA A DAY.
The family argument now is why the banana cure cramps. My mother says that is because it has potassium. I attribute it to magnesium, the essential element of the cosmos presocratic for me, at this point that I can also blame him for my pain ... "Stomach / pancreas? by the orange coloring brings.
My mother was very happy to hear me tell him everything I read online about a thousand shits that came to mind I could have. We enjoy the wealth of information, which we exchanged a lot. She referred me to a general practitioner, our family, that unlike other doctors insensitive and mercenaries was very concerned (by telephone) to read all my studies and take copies home for further study. And I thought how nice it is to communicate with someone of the same subculture that one. The cat ate
brewer's yeast.
Greetings,

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Foil Or Rotary Shaver



Hello, musicologists:

finished putting the video on You Tube of "Turn It On" by Flaming Lips, in my Favorites list and that the first time I heard no U $ S was 0.01 for this item.
I like is gay and old. Those girls in jeans
choreographed impromptu dancing in the laundry have a wave do not know what circa 1990 that moves me.

And on the other hand, Sam Beam is only 2 or 3 that resist a second pass. The rest is passed
corny.
Whenever possible, translate the Robyn Hitchcock song I posted yesterday or the day before.

Greetings. PS


Magnesium takes effect: it is a very good muscle relaxant.
With all that that implies.
(I will not go into details.)

Monday, September 24, 2007

Binoculars In Bourne Ultimatum



'll Never Have the damn thing off
or meet the Pope
and kiss his neck
and like him more than you expect

and in my mind
the colour red
is dripping blood
above your head
tonight
when the time is right.

You'll never shave the damn thing off
or meet the Queen
and kiss her throat
and ask her where you hang your coat

and in my mind
the colour pink
will do more damage than you think
tonight
when the time is right.

You'll never wash the damn thing off
or meet the judge
and kiss his thigs
and ask him where he keeps his wigs

and in my mind
the colour blue
will never be as dark as you tonight

and in my mind
the colour green
is oh so lonely and obscene
tonight
when the time is right.


Robyn Hitchcock

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Television Program Proposal Sample

count alone


Bebo & Cigala - I forgot that I forgot you

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

NOT SOLD



loneliness, a sad look,
twenty tears on the table a sheet of paper

empty pen about to write
early-morning rain in the window, rain
soul daily
all these caresses reserved
these simulations of happiness
Baker
corner with a dream two cane
just leave me
the smiles that I gave you this miserable
and
possibility that some
day not repeat history .... ah


there are things that are not sold

Gonzalo Gareis

Now that I recognize myself in the mirror, that the past is that smile, remembering beautiful moments today that time is my ally and walk to my pair, after so much water under the bridge, today road barefoot. Welcome if you come with me. I invite you.

Ed note: You may read this poem in Nostalgia, in another time in my life. Maybe not. Anyway, thanks for being. The hug.

Friday, June 1, 2007

Naruto Shippuden Fakku




Ismael Serrano - What will walk by


---------------------------- --------------------


WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU ARE ALONE?



lick cold dry wall with the right thumb
memories
sink with left cursing
time and the solitude of a dreary bed

can light another cigarette
no one scold total cough
snore much less someone who shares
a drink red wine over it

also choose to turn on the radio
and pretend that nothing happens
clear that it only takes very little
say it's just a condiment

or you may choose to remind
will never let you
words still so much to do
only to write a post mortem monologue


Hernán Gonzalo Gareis


----------------------------- -------------------


Monologue only



Rather abandoned, looted. My wife is not, nor his desire, and her lips
oblivion. And I should be quiet, because his absence is
days, trips, nothing overwhelming, nothing terminal, love
intact, everything perfect. But it is and the unusual room acoustics suffer.
around the house and no mouth in bed or in silhouette
windows. It sounds absurd, premature surly so fragile. But that happens
: only understand the roof when there is no roof. There is a gap
of war, a hand intact and without water. A suspected
loneliness in your clothes. You open the bathroom and see a single toothbrush. You
fruit every film. You could sleep, be drunken, wandering for days, raging
freely, but something is missing. The huge bed, the bed more
wonder wide. You miss me, I need your nerves, you gallop
the room, your river and your anger, your voice pouring through the halls,
wet night, burning the day, I need the suburb of your humor,
the dew of your caress , the fury of your anger, you need your eyes
therefore both


Venezuelan poet Leonardo Padrón