The silence spreads our streets;
our favorite songs were playing in the malls.
A president or perhaps a
submissive vile can go to respect the great memory of a dreamer that built a
country, at the same time that his government punish our mouths and chained our
freedom to reveal us against his destructive laws.
Is it perhaps also our own
nice house which eliminated our active days of the illusions that sadly we discovered too late that was only papier-mâché?
Then it was early when that
morning Woody asked me if I had seen that black man.
Oh not I immediately
answered him; why I should know something about this crazy man, asked him, full
of scary feelings.
Alfonse looked hardly at me
because he had some information about my old actions when I wrote a flyer about the
best new lotions to look after our hairs.
Do you mind if I revealed
those letters?
I’d rather you didn’t
indicate those dreams if you don’t mind.
I had a good hair and I felt the wind as a comb which played with me
But, do you mind stopping
that cow which kissed you head?
Oh really, that was
incredible because my dog was there to defend me, but I didn’t knew they’re in
love.
Why did those things happen
when I had been educated about apple, pears or a world which was always
balanced
Yes, but you really thought
these words that you wrote about some detached which broken its roots and fly.
You indicated us that you want live there up in the air
It was early that morning that
we had decided to share it, although our bodies continued away without touching
our unleashed desires.
There was a mountain which
drawn our life when he lived closed without looking for water, although she
took an yellow apple and said us
Can you feel the violence of
this fruit? It’s yellow as the news which kick our brains.
That mother
decided to know the real story, now she had family and too many liars would
destroy them
Mandela, in his own words
Juan Carlos Monedero, agitador de mi mente acomodada que leía el otro
día en el comic: Pasolini; nos recuerda lo que fue Nelson Mandela, Madiba. A no
olvidar, a tener presente, para que entre las flores que le lanzarán en su tumba, sepamos apartar
los cuchillos de quienes estos días recortan la libertad
Comiendo tierra. J, C. Monedero
John Carlin has humanized a being that we could think that he was an spirit. This reporter and writer has brought us closer to his colossal work
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