man-famine, man-insult, man-torture could at any time enter beat him, kill him - kill him perfectly

man-famine, man-insult, man-torture could at any time enter beat him, kill him - kill him perfectly - without having to account to anyone without vogue jobs having to apology to anyone present a man-a man-Jewish pogrom a puppy a beggar
but is what kills Remorse, beautiful as the face of a stupor English lady who found a skull in his tureen Hottentot? I would find the secret of great communications and great combustions. I'd storm. vogue jobs I'd vogue jobs River. I would say tornado. I would sheet. I would say tree. I would wet all the rain dampened vogue jobs all rosy. I would roll like frenetic blood on the slow current of the eye of the words fresh horse crazy kids clots curfew remains of temple vogue jobs stones far enough to discourage minors. Who do not understand me do not understand further the roar of the tiger. And you ghost ride blues chemistry of a forest vogue jobs of hunted beasts of twisted machines jujube of rotten flesh of a basket of oysters eyes of a maze of strips vogue jobs cut in the beautiful sisal of skin man I would have large enough words to contain
O earth taut earth drunk large earth towards the sun rose sex big land delirium of mentule God storerooms wild land rising from the sea in the mouth with a tuft of cécropies land which I can not compare to the rough face rainforest and mad that I wish I could face as a show indéchiffreurs eyes of men
It would suffice me a sip of milk in your jiculi you I always find the same distance vogue jobs from mirage - a thousand vogue jobs times more native and a golden sun than zero prism begins - the land where everything is free and fraternal , my land. From. My heart hummed with bounties emphatic. From ... I would get smooth and youthful in this my country and I would say that countries with silt in the composition of my flesh: "I have long wandered and I come to the deserted hideousness of your wounds." I would come to this my country and I would say: Kiss me without fear ... And if I do know about is that I will speak to you. " And I would say to him: "My mouth is the mouth of the misfortunes that have no mouth, my voice, freedom of those who collapse in the dungeon of despair. "And coming I say to myself:" And especially vogue jobs my body as well as my soul, beware of crossing your arms in the sterile attitude of the spectator, because life is not a show, because sea of troubles is not a proscenium, a man screaming for is not a dancing bear ... "(Extracts Notebook of a Return vogue jobs to My Native Land by Aimé Césaire written in 1938-1939, published in 1947, African Presence)
Written by: Bernard-Olivier Lancelot | April 17, 2008 at 20:47 | |
Negritude (nice word I adopted a long time) ... Césaire, Senghor? Surely both, for a single great cause! Human, where are you?? Shame on all licitant religion slavery shame on me! Pax ...
Bon Voyage, Aimé Césaire. "I have not lost the shame on my first trip and I do not have any intention of losing it now that I go back forever." Mouloud Feraoun.
Circle after circle when the deserts have us one by one pulled out all their mirrors vain night with the warmth of the land stretched their necks camel tired day will leave no ghost in pursuit of non-ephemeral lakes pure and nights out at the intersect staggering of an absurd dream long grass
So bitter wind and white days only judge intimate black rock streak free and coreless judging from the nail of lightning in my chest deep you me péseras goalkeeper word nailed by precept
Is it that you just realized, my dears, that Aimé refers explicitly in his poem to a member of the very select club of Passou blog? It refers to the end dancingbear! It is clear that the blog has now Passou an international aura and it is mentioned in the poems!
amenemaculottestpleineainsisoitilçadégouline ROAR! he was "crowing" ... ok! bcbg! eh (nothing to shake j'N'fais NEVER vot'monde and a lil virtual oven for me (FUCK!)
thank you, our host ... the air is sweet for a "/ e doudou-ouch! Haiti: shammpouinez You Appear! GE-NI-AL fatigue, I leave you ... turd (to fall on me ... own J'suis
This is a great emotion, vogue jobs as sad as the death of Aimé Césaire. Hey! It was he who helped me get a 17 oral tray French at the time, when the teacher had chosen Negritude com