Saturday, May 29, 2010

Used Marine Generators For Sale

Beauty and Such " Paul Eluard




A face for the day
a wedge between the day the dead leaves
A bouquet rain naked
All
Sol hidden source
All mirrors in the bottom of the water
All
mirror broken mirrors
A Face in the balance of silence
A among other shingle beach
For fronds the last rays of day
A face like every face forgotten.

Paul Eluard

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Jeff Quinney Golf Swing

the brothers of the native peoples are marching tribute Homenaje a Violeta Parra




Arauco has a sentence (or Get up Huenchullán)

Arauco is punishable
that I can not shut up,
are injustices of centuries
everyone sees
apply
no one has been remedied
pudiéndolo remedy.
Arise, Huenchullán.
One day Huescufe conqueror comes from afar, looking
mountains of gold, the Indian
never sought,
the Indian gold is enough
that the sun shines.
Arise, Curimón.
Then blood flows,
do not know what to do Indian,
you going to take their land, the
must defend the Indian
drops dead, and the outsider
standing.
Arise, Manquilef
Where did Lautaro
lost in the blue sky,
and soul of Galvarino
took the wind is south, so go
crying
hides his kultrún.
So get up, Callfull.

From the year 1400
that the Indian is distressed,
in the shade of a hut, you can see
whining, reed
five centuries will never dry.
Arise, Gallup.

Arauco is punishable
blacker than your chamal,
are no longer the English
those who do mourn, today
Chileans themselves
those who take away their bread.
Arise, Pailahue. I roar

votes,
are heard not to leave but the whining
Indian
why not listen?
Although the grave resound in
Caupolicán voice,
arise, Huenchullán.
VIOLETA PARRA

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Free Bang Brothers Full Lenth Vids

native who come marching to Plaza de Mayo





The
Palliri

simplest kind of work that has
the
palliri Sitting on the cup of his own skirt, choose
eyes pieces of rock that breaks
by hammering into the ground.

(A silent night I climb the
braids and dark clay of brown hands.)

How useless would say that in their eyes
is a dark pit and a pit of absence
he could be a pastor of the clouds
and stayed in mining
he could spin his dreams for the peaks
seeing dance the spinning wheel.

The palliri not sing nor
spinning dreams.
Look at
land and head heaven
morning and afternoon
searching only silence,
and when his side
breaks it against the floor.

And do not know At times, his arms tough,
sleeps like a baby hammer iron.

MANUEL J. CASTILLA

Monday, May 10, 2010

Sportspal Outbaord Motor

Warning-Amelia Biagioni calligraphy notebooks


At noon
my hand on and writes

must flee
seek you
you profile are judging.

I do not feel guilt.

hunt because I feel no guilt.

Disconnect

dizzying mess items
loose my tower and on to the city.


Amelia Biagioni- Argentina