Do you know what the stars are made of?
In how many quarters do they divide?
And how many steps do they watch?
Do you know what the clouds are about?
How many thirds do they pray?
To stay and maintain them joined?
Do you know how comets form?
How many fifth dimensions guide them
And what speeds do they reach?
Do you know what drives our dreams?
How many single thoughts about
Make them real in our naps?
Do you know how ideas are born?
With which duality of energies
Do they throb and light up warm?
You know that being curious
Does not bring large gains
but richer lives of charms?
You know the gains in life
Are just petty cash to the other side?
So if you know, see if you hurry
To read these and other stories
May they make you ennoble the spirit
And enrich the mind.
Before it's too late and you cannot
Leave your seed behind.
What distinguishes man from beast is precisely how they feel by women and what they are able to make women feel. So there are various types of men and various kinds of animals. There are men who love, who fall in love, who like the Woman. And some men just like women. The difference comes precisely in a differentiated manner as one and the other guy can do the women around them feel although both enjoy them. The first guy gets to make feel fat and ugly woman a goddess, the second can make beautiful and handsome women feel like crap. There are also those who don't like women, some because they are homosexuals other because they are just irrational. Some homosexuals hate women because it is with these that often have to compete for the hearts of other men, others just because they envy its form and content. Nevertheless we can also find homosexuals who still love women, because they admire deeplythe female model who would like to be, others who sympathize with their manners and defects as sensitive friends who fall for them even without the wish as men. Then there are the men who claim to be real males (I just don't know what specie) who hates women. Those consciously or unconsciously, consider them disregarding them. They usually define them as parts of cars, or sports or war material or kitchen equipment, depriving them of feeling or destroying their feelings and self-esteem constantly and without blushing or regret. These are the real animals species set, defined as egocentric, wild animals, some predators and cannibalistic in disguise. So my friends have very carefully with this kind of mindless animal if you hear from them any comparison of yourself to any type of equipment or material referred to before-even if the positive way, run fast and well while you can, because they are more destructive and often they place painful traps to their prey when these drop guards.
Dear Santa Claus, this year bring me who inspires me but also those who breathe me.
Draw near to me only those who are not afraid of love.
Only those who are able to inspire by word and gesture an uneasy creative soul that returns shimmer-like figures back in their turn.
Who can put in each caress an open rainbow, in the depths of a warm and country breeze.
Who can achieve to bring the sea to the land without taste to salt and war.
May he take me to the sky of his mouth as one who leads angels to hell.
And who brings me breakfast to bed as if the day would never end.
Let him breathe me when I get up, in the middle of the journey, when I get home, when I go to bed.
And can not wait to the next day to tell me that he loves me.
And that needs me, to fall asleep serene and warm this winter and the following, and the following, and the following.
But please, Santa Claus, make it soft and delicate and with a big bow, a large step, and that waits for me hungry as if waiting for the arrival of the take away in the lobby, to lead me in arms through the end of the world.
But, my dear Santa Claus, if you think that I have not done so well this year, in order to deserve so much, you can take away the step that I will try to make him trample mine and we will reach many before the end of it.
From the beginning of the day 'till the ending of the night
From Monday through Sunday I think of you
I can even smell you
It’s not a colored thought
But is so clearly backlit
That I can even caress your lips
Sense your hair between my fingers
Breath pleasantly your neck
Lick sweetly your ear lobe
And finish the Black & White movie
As a beginning of a new colored world
Where thoughts are not only thoughts
And where great ideas turn out ever in happy The End's
Tomorrow when I’ll wake up for the next day
There will be another woman waiting for me in the shower She will wash my face, my breast, my arms, my legs, my feet In a gentle way In a way that will make followers scramble and shake In a way that will make me dream all the path to heaven apart from an earth Where bad guys will not take place Neither they will take the hope away from sad and deep pale girls Tomorrow when the sun burn It will bring with it nice feelings and only great dreams of peace and love for every human being Tomorrow when the wind blow it will pick up all flowers and leaves that remain in the undressed trees to make a wonderful symphony in the air without hard notes that could pull them away Tomorrow when kids will walk for school they will have no fear of being kidnaped Neither they will be scared of crime or of the lost of faith Only because tomorrow will be the day after today
In a very dark night
when only the north star bright could be seen
I went to the garden to get my thoughts arranged
To separate the issues from brain to heart
From thought to Breath
From breast to head
While the smoke from my mouth went away
I sent as well my brain, my head and my thought
And kept my heart breathing from breast
and capable of flying away or only stay
melted by the bright of the north star
shining through that deeply dark sky
Above our brains, heads, thoughts and smoke
I can not believe that I, who am both: hand in hand and eye in the eye, before it is born whatever it is to be generated, end up leading to the heights feelings of enthusiasm and happiness trapped in the upper and lower case letters.
An ode to live and love made by four hands of which I pride myself even in the uncertainty that it is in perfect harmony.
I also look for you in the latest news and let me navigate dreams of love and peace, yearning for the promised arms, as if this had to be the work of destiny that both of us should build on silk papers.
I then uncross arms and cross legs retaining anxiety to act and go into action, and avoiding the precipitation of the passion, while I patiently put bits of eternal love embedded in castles or palaces that are not of sand but of pebbles. Pebbles that I associate with so much, arranged in long ways that become short, simplifying ideals and unifying wills, that of so strong they make history in the fables of the others.
Thereby I read and reread texts from before and after and I conclude that it will not only be the work of destiny or random paths crossed, but other forces that although we do not know, we trust in them with the lightest force of our souls, where the years have not passed through.
And of the light we make important stories that will make history in the History of the Arts, and without realizing we serve a multitude of loved and lovers.
While tomorrow is not enough,
I will spread in this vast and desert Beach
words that could be syllables.
Aligned and nestled in your lap warm,
so that you can knit them in silk ribbons on the fireplace in the coming winter.
You know that word you fear, on my lips was often spelled so that you could memorize it
And you could spill it in all your moments of silence and greater loneliness
And to not forget that I chose you and for you I uncheck me constantly and regularly until you decide to occupy more than thoughts and don't diminish to braid the silks until left not a glimmer of regret and remain only feeling.
While Friday is not night,
I will draw with your long eyelashes, letters and phonemes, and …
sweet pancakes berries and Goji berry enough to taste so never oxidize the metaphors with which I will reward you if you get to me.
I promise you creativity if you promise me reciprocity in laughter and guffaws clean and clear that come out to play drums in celebration, above the mountains of our contentment.
Dreaming is good
While dreaming I take what I need.
The words dance as shapes,
the pink shapes in the sky go and come,
the blue sky shaped by the yellow ball
lighting in the frame never goes never comes.
The demon was the wiser saint.
The angel in my back always there with no smile
The God in my head and heart like an infants’ paint
Makes me go away from faith, and become a believer in life
A believer in shapes,
A believer in words
A believer in smiles
A believer in bright
A believer in Person
A believer in whom will make the difference
A believer in whom will make the enlightenment
A believer in whom will take the future light
As his own goal
As his own primordial intent
With his own hands over the fence
"I know now
I'm better sleeping alone "
Now that I know
I should never throw my brain away.
Now that I know
I should be better with my words, my songs, my art ...
Enjoying My Own
Now that I know
I should never change into the white snow of your dreams.
Nor become Tinker Bell of my
Because you're not Peter Pan
Neither this is Neverland
And as much as I think
I can not follow the path to the land of dreams
At least at this moment
I have several of them to perform
In your land of opportunity
Where I just arrived
Full of true fairy tales
To live and be loved
For now on
Do not be content with a beautiful woman who laughs at people and smiles at things, you never know when an even prettier woman awaits you, those who smile at people and laugh at things. When you find one of these do not let her run away for anything, and if necessary go swimming. By sea by land or air, protect yourself from the waves, but follow her, follow her with your eyes, plunge into her air, and if you miss yours, the breeze that emanates from her will make you return to Safe land, like a weary ship who was denied the almost certain shipwreck before arrival at the nearest pier. In the other hand you will find a good handful of the other good girls, so good but so good, that the fact that there are such good girls - such ones - bores them all over, laughing out loud and breaking the veneer around the corner.
When I was young I wanted to be a teacher
When I grew up I just wish to be a witch
A peaceful witch
Who will do little tricks to people
To get them feeling well
To bet they will not get their soul sold
For a pair of coins
And a piece of toys
To bring them joy
And join them
As a fairy with no wings
Flying from a blue sky
and diving into a green river
That will drive them to the beginning
Of a new crystal era
which should take no more than a bit of time
To put us all together
Chasing the same goals
Reaching the same wishes
Dreaming about peaceful witches
And fairies of lakes without wings to fly away
Hence they will forever stay
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, a clown won to lead a really dumb kingdom in the world. Someone made they believing that that kingdom full of gold would never come to a nation full of holes. Of holes that not even the poor clown couldn’t repair neither the rich cloak can take care. And the dumb sheep just tried to guess what was best for their children, whom couldn’t believe such a thing exists from the beginning. That’s why we should trust more our children because in an innocent head never fits a stupid hat.
Once upon a time a tired, tired man, that was more excited than hell went trough a forest full of large trees and plenty of water from seas.
As the night goes deep the tired, so tired man just get out of that wonderful forest and find a beautiful girl laying down in an waterfall bed, with more curves than waves since the river was really quiet behind them. And once he was more tired than excited just lay there with her, hearing the waves coming out from the pearl she had between legs and get a great turbid vision of paradise in earth without sky that claim for an unexpected feeling of water coming out of an open mouth of surprise.
Today I dressed myself to be undress by you,
Take away my shirt
Drop down my skirt
Pull out my underwear
And come up with a great feeling of hell
In a well-being way
Of beginning a wonderful day
In a mean that nobody can tell
If there is day or night time
Because we will be losing the watch of live
And our heads will be lost between clothes
That will lay on the floor like an empty bottle
from which the liquid was took without pulling the cork above it