Turning over myself as a demi human, I flap my body on the ground flaming my sides and spicing my flavor. I'm frying in a very hot temperature that tries to keep my meat soft and juicy. I am almost ready. I think it needs more salt, though it's really up to taste. To accomplish? Wine! Always wine of course. But white and fancy wine... to be drink cold as a Kir Royall or just simply as wine. Salad? Well, I love salad! Green leafs, all types, with no excuse against it. Fresh Italian tomatoes, the small kind. Some mango, and the special Honey Mustard Dijon salad sauce, made home by mama. Well it is ready to serve. I did not forget the rice, indeed fresh cooked savage rice. Tasty!
16/04/2010
14/04/2010
Lov.U Creativity
Creativity is taking ahead of me. It swerve right and it swerve left. It gets up and it gets down. Always trying and always doing everything we are going to find out later when its done.
I love you creativity, I love your innocence way of making things happen. I envy you creativity, for your senseless spontaneity that keeps me amazing of myself. Always with a bright spot in the eyes and a shinning moment at the mind, lightning my being and singing my life. You are the hackles bone creativity, the one, the perfect excuse, and the sharp argument. You are the reason I smile and the reason I have love in my heart to give. You are all my energy my dark side and my fear of me. Creativity you are free inside your wills! And you grow as a wild anaconda of please, eating me like a bird flying glee. You take me down and you keep me high, you little brat that isn't shy. The baby I care inside.
I love you creativity, I love your innocence way of making things happen. I envy you creativity, for your senseless spontaneity that keeps me amazing of myself. Always with a bright spot in the eyes and a shinning moment at the mind, lightning my being and singing my life. You are the hackles bone creativity, the one, the perfect excuse, and the sharp argument. You are the reason I smile and the reason I have love in my heart to give. You are all my energy my dark side and my fear of me. Creativity you are free inside your wills! And you grow as a wild anaconda of please, eating me like a bird flying glee. You take me down and you keep me high, you little brat that isn't shy. The baby I care inside.
13/04/2010
The Danger Of My Story
The mistake of assembling the hours to our days make me feel small towards the all circumstances around the Sun
I drive through a can of pathetical misery from a substantial matter to a crazy grey part of my smoky brain of ideas. I drank fast until it was cold. We never know what our story of lives is going to dig out in front of ourselves revealing our way of pretending we know better… Ideas jump through scenes picturing my single way of misunderstand myself. Of getting what I want, and I want nothing, out of the day that it’s arising like a game of colors sounds madness and substantial joy, like the bleeding scar cut on the skin.
My eyes stares me at my bathroom mirror while I draw lines in between lines, dots inside dots, and mice among mice . I never saw that filthy single one of powering destroying my world of words and images mixing the coffee with the sugar and the sugar with the salt and with the butter and the butter with the fingers and the fingers with our arms..
My closed heart reveals my open mind, and the danger of my story. Of my way. And of my side. And the danger is mine.
I drive through a can of pathetical misery from a substantial matter to a crazy grey part of my smoky brain of ideas. I drank fast until it was cold. We never know what our story of lives is going to dig out in front of ourselves revealing our way of pretending we know better… Ideas jump through scenes picturing my single way of misunderstand myself. Of getting what I want, and I want nothing, out of the day that it’s arising like a game of colors sounds madness and substantial joy, like the bleeding scar cut on the skin.
My eyes stares me at my bathroom mirror while I draw lines in between lines, dots inside dots, and mice among mice . I never saw that filthy single one of powering destroying my world of words and images mixing the coffee with the sugar and the sugar with the salt and with the butter and the butter with the fingers and the fingers with our arms..
My closed heart reveals my open mind, and the danger of my story. Of my way. And of my side. And the danger is mine.
06/04/2010
The Danger Of A Single Story
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