#poeama

Les cheveux en bataille Le corps en brin de paille Vêtu d'un vieux chandail, C'est l'épouvantail. Il fait peur aux moineaux Aux corneilles, aux corbeaux, À tout oiseau qui piaille, C'est l'épouvantail. Est-ce que tu oserais Le toucher, l'embrasser, Le prendre par la taille, Cet épouvantail ?

Sabiendo que no era el fin, era el principio.

Hoy te bebí en un taza blanca que contrasta con tu piel. Bebí tus besos dulcemente amargos. Sentí el calor de tu aliento en mi boca. Hoy te bebí aunque estás lejos, no me faltaron tus besos, no me faltó tu sabor oscuro no me faltó tu aroma de mañana invernal: café canela. Has amargado dulcemente mis días Mujer café.

Me besaba mucho- Amado Nervo

Here I am sitting in this darkened room listening to sounds, sounds that liberate the demons in my head, demons kept hidden for so long by the demands of life. The chords on the guitar, the play on the words the rhymes of the tongue, Lo’, the demons have come out to play my soul feels the fresh breeze of life, not stuck behind my glasses imprisoned by the computer screen…. I miss the walks by the river, the carefree life …no worries about cash( the demon that imprisons us) just being lost the throes and pleasures of the moment ..the soulless struggle for existence Alas…the demons are loose , cavorting, galloping ,armored and ready for war…woe betide thee who steps in their way…watch them destroy as their rage pent up by years of imprisonment in wasted on you…as they rape your mind

-Paulo leminski