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Habré

die standing in front of it facing the sun
Without fear of opening the eyes
When one hundred beams of fury
Burn my skin Open

my chest And I oppress the soul.

Then, I will live today!
For all
furies seize the song is sad
melancholic song out of my chest
Is it not rather die in your hands
To not raise the sea
In a duel of sad soul. I know


die
would like nothing because I was born to be an angel
that opens their land, to live life.

is that it is my punishment
Crucified
waves in my soul will be a sip of your wine liquor
Friendly
caressing my many regrets. Perhaps

cigars are my Aprils
The hive of my martyrdom.
And the dead
hear screaming and more value battle!

but death who dwells in himself whether to talk
not breathing. Are they chips

life's blows

Pieces of human anger that I most like to be inhabiting
myself Not to forget my revenge


Tell me I've seen "mourn yesterday?
Because I cried and did not cost anything.

be there Friday
That burned like today
tears That leave us
In the distance there
My mother a day, saw them go
When agora
A duel in their footsteps.


know will die standing
And not afraid of anything.

Camilla Rodrigues Trans Brazil

POESIA EROTICA - PART I


Published in Brazil in 2002.


THE FACES OF THE NIGHT Lying



very quiet early morning in the face of the moonlight solo
neutral in my fantasy made in raising the rarity tempus
be yours and you mine. Invading the fourth
macabre
your fragile hairless sex desiring
deliver to the imagination of my conscience pernicious
unleashing the passions that nearly hit
maybe a look or a smile
enough to reach the abyss where the vast realm of authentic
sunset horizon
sow in our lives an orchard land, sea and stars live.

encroach impatiently stinking blanket warmed
the finding my body go through miserable and ever virgin
devoured by the mood on the night of masturbation

breaking the restful sleep and no one breaks the pleasure of listening
be your secret love.

We connected with our bodies sodomite pavement marking
the youth of my bare chest with desire
hungry nibbling my lips are
bless you enter you in the wreck as deep down in your belly. Shaking like dying

dove expect the unexpected
gave me your flower-laden native
Starfire
holy lands desecrated by the antichrist not get medieval

stop my progress, nor did they stop the march of the crusaders in the desert
who conquered the scarlet shade of twilight
feeling the sensation of her red lips
the same image in my phallus
left a stain and red fluorescent
pride to get out of your insides
and sad, because it is the first and only in your life.


live idle in bed with smooth moving

wobbles getting amnesia by fighting melee
share the fear of not breastfeeding
gladly move our burning passions with euphoria
to find safety at all magnitudes and directions used
stepped interior spaces revolution was so tenuous
symphony of your breathing
innocence there on fire, as our bodies naked virgin.

erogenous now dragging him
stroking the limbs, chest moans filled my street
my dream is vague very vague.

I'm eating, without pause
obscenities in your small and unique
pubis but delirious satisfaction and pride of
makes my soul to serve both Scots and lingerie sex
I speak of small and beautiful
perversions because they also must die radiant
fervently shaking off the edge of the lair
without uttering a word when we spit it wishes
spring from your lips moist with chastity. Lone


prostrate to the beauty of the night
insinuating just the edge of your skin
soar through the unholy desire to touch and kiss
the face of my body, so cold you usually ask me

quietly making love to a again.

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ZERO zero Seeking
In verses
kill

In the letters of the soul in debt.

But the steps are zeros and zeros
transplanted hosts

are worth all the weeping bitter. A zero



two or maybe three zeros on the shoulders

The
fronts
In small feet are strong, very strong.

So we
Sustained zeros on the breath of a bullet in a dark mass

What is covered in the vacuum of a table.

A zero in a home abandoned
A zero closing
life or one who sees the open window and the moon
looming
A lament about being old
so dry
Men say: Let him

already gone.

ECHO WHEN THE WORLD TO MOURN


If a man wrote the world
Mares, Evening, Freedom!
The pity everything
smile and no more human to write at night No more human
who claims Eternity!

If a man wrote to another
plains, Cordilleras, Amar!
Clay never had anything fearful in anxiety

Desperate embrace the echo of crying
Brother!, Brother!, Do not speak
They enjoy Kill!

And the day came when the patients were captured by the death
The dried blood on the sand mass
Something that was exposed in the sky all was no longer
.

world arms loaded into memory skeletons chased

And I find it as written by the man
recalled their songs, their lyrics, their numbers, their fire, their existence
Be sadder than on other nights
He lay, laid down to mourn.


I KNOW YOU ARE ASLEEP


I feel my dead
JOSE WATANABE


've heard the candor of the second, third
The child who stays and says goodbye.
already reached the room with her rosary
the fifth with his condolences
the sixth with his prayer for the old
The seventh and fades too pale and his eighth
measured length / width

Smile because it will eat today because he works for death.

already brought the songs of the sea
The mountain music
The candle of the sky and the face of the earth.

And have united to dismiss

To ask Where anger? I call

Those men loaded the tree that has fallen
And it hurts because it leaves shade leaves
Because words mean
Learned / forgotten
be remembered as the cements covering his grave.


I love the old In its shadow still fragile paint
In
In another spirit
Do not tremble in the night Do not know

That dream did not say goodbye.