Sunday, November 21, 2010

How To Cover Up A Colds Sore On Lips













Here's the video of the 2010 Live at The Barcolana Charlestones! Mythical guys, keep it up!! Crevatin Gian Marco-guitar-drums- Federico Pellizzari-

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Pot Belly Pig Nashville

WESTFORA CARILLON







what pace! But I have to continue, I have to do! I have to go to the "maximum", in fact. As in battle, there is not much time to think, Work, work, work! On the other hand there is a mission to accomplish! Well, "muses hard and Barete fracade" I'm ready: FIRE!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Unemployment Insurance Fund South Africa

Go go go! For each of you



E 'the field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. E 'is your board and your fireside. Since , hungry, I sought refuge in him and for your peace. When your friend speaks his mind, do not deny your approval, nor be afraid to contradict him. And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart: in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born in silence and is shared with inexpressible joy. When you part from
grieve not
His absence may be clearer what we love most in him, as
the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of all
own mystery is not love,
but a net cast forth: and only grab what is in vain.



And let your best be for your friend. If he
must know the ebb of your tide,
let him know its flood also.
What is your friend should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
and share the delights in the sweetness of a smile.
For in the dew of little things
the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Adapted from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran


Friday, November 5, 2010

Persistent Stomach Ache Following Flu















symphony orchestra. a thunderstorm, are playing an overture to Wagner people leave places under the trees and rushes in hall laughing women, men ostensibly calm, wet cigarettes you throw away, Wagner plays on, and then they all indoors. are even birds from the trees and enter the pavilion and then there's the Hungarian Rhapsody No 2 of Lizst, and it's raining again, but look,
a man sitting in the rain
listening. the audience notices him.
turn around to look. the orchestra business
its bay. the man sits in the night in the rain,
listening. must have something wrong,
not?

came to hear the music.
CHARLES
BUCOVSKI


Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Salt Lowers Blood Sugar

It's raining on our faces, it rains on our bare hands













This is poetry! And they'll tell words red as blood, black as night; but is not it, boy, that the reason is always with the strongest, I know that poets moving rivers with the thought, and countless sailors who can speak with the sky. Close your eyes, boy, and believe only what you see inside; clenching his fists, boy, let him keep her not won even a moment;
cover love, boy,
but not hide under the cloak;
sometimes pass someone,
sometimes there is someone who should see it.

Dream boy dream

when the wind rises in the ways of the heart,
when a man lives by his words

or no longer lives;
dream, dream boy,

not change a line of your song,
do not stop you ...



Let the world say that people like you always lose;
because you've already won, I swear,
and you can do anything;
runs every time
hand on a woman's face, fairleads fingers;

no kingdom is bigger than this little thing called life

And life is so strong that
through walls without being seen
life is so real that it seems impossible
having to leave;

life is so great that when you're about to die, will plant an olive tree, convinced
yet to see it flourishing


dream, dream boy, when she turns
,
when she comes back,
when the only step that stops the heart

do not feel it;
dream boy, dream, will spend the
days,
passerrĂ  love
passeran night,
end the pain, you'll always
...
dream, dream boy,

little boy in my memory,

many many times in this story:
account there anymore;
dream boy, dream, I left you a

sheet on the desk, only to miss

in that poem,
you can finish it.