Big Hips In High Heels

heart Be my limit

I a spell full moon, see what fate brings me the stars. My heart overflowed, and my skin panting. Each of my pores drink the memory of your touch, again! What if I say no again because I am your poison? That when we are together he dies and I die without him you do sarcastic destination! Now do not get but the spell that I return your presence, give us the antidote compassionate beings, the Cosmos that brought us together, now separates us, once and for all give me death or give you back into my life.

be my limit

Your body can

fill my life,

as can your laughter

fly

opaque wall of sadness

.

A single word from you bankrupt

blind loneliness into a thousand pieces.

If you get close your mouth inexhaustible

to mine

drink constantly the root of my own existence.

But you ignore how

the closeness of your body

me live or how much

its distance me from myself,

down to me the shade.

You are, light on,

as a burning torch

in half the world.

not stay away never

the deep movements

of your nature are

my own law.

Reténme.

be my limit.

And I

image of me, happy that you have given me.

(José Angel Valente)

Deep Neck Flexor Exercises

Her Kind

private Sometimes the desire is to release ... not pursuing the ghosts and illusions of others, but sometimes clear voice that sometimes sinister dwells el interior. Maravillosas mujeres, creativas, revolucionarias, faros en medio de la tormenta de imposiciones han muerto buscando esa verdad... por mano propia o ajena. Y es que la búsqueda de la realización personal no es solamente un shock para una misma sino para todo aquel que rodea a dicha persona. Las velas se apagan, los ojos también, por falta de oxígeno, por falta espacio. Talvez sea mejor abrir las alas, reconocer las múltiples máscaras y dejarlas a un lado, aunque volar pueda llevarnos demasiado cerca del sol...

Anne Sexton fue una gran poeta. Nació en Newton, Massachusetsts en 1928. La mayor parte de su vida vivió en Boston. Se casó en 1948 con Alfred Muller Sexton, They had two daughters. They divorced in the 70's. But the episode that marked his life was his first depression in 1954, for which he was hospitalized at the Glenside Hospital and where he would return more than once. They say he suffered from bipolar disorder. She began writing poetry stimulated by the therapist, as a means of expressing their artistic qualities, hitherto unexplored. After his first writing workshop, began publishing his poetry in various magazines throughout the United States. Do another workshop led by Robert Lowell, where would a friendship with one of my favorite poets Sylvia Plath, and his mentor WD Snodgrass. All of them are known as "confessional poets." But who delves so deeply into the pain and loss, madness and death, and debate with his own mind, is the border, in the end, with the danger of falling constantly. This is what happened one October 4, 1974 Sexton committed suicide when poisoned with carbon monoxide.

Anne Sexton - Her Kind
i have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air
, Braver at night;
dreaming evil, i have done my hitch over the plain
houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A Woman Like That is not a woman, remove. I Have Been
her kind.

I

have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.

I have been her kind.

Jc Penney Peace Sign Bedding

The look

Si alguna vez has pasado the world being seen / ay never looked home, know the value they have such watery eyes pierce you and watch your soul to detail. You know those looks, like kisses, I have cherished the heart so that even in death you live ... Is reborn from the ruins of time, lack of absence from work hours where I live with ghosts in the dark recesses of desire. A desire to be discovered / o, and all the times I look like the first time. It is impossible to get used to these two lights that dazzle the secrets of your heart. He has melted to the bone and has embraced the remains, now forever, forever, and ever loved.

YOU LOOK ME

Gerardo Diego

You look at me, love, I finally

view from the front, you look at me and give yourself

and your

racked eyes lyric

your innocence to mine.

not withdraw

wave and wave your sweet, lies

I dreamed and are not really playing.

look at me and without looking, looking blindly

your own love to watch my breathing.

No see my eyes, my love of power, a view

not see, you look singing sing

watching, oh music of heaven.

blind Oh my soul, incandescent,

my ringtone on my being revealed.

You look at me, love, you're watching.

Gerardo Diego was a English poet born in Santander, Cantabria in 1896 and belonged to the "Generation 27". He was professor of language and literature at several institutes of Soria, Gijón, Santander and Madrid. He also made several newspapers critical literature and music. He won several awards including "National Award for Literature in 1925 and the Premio Cervantes in 1979. He was a member of the English Royal Academy since 1947. He died in Madrid in 1987 at the age of 90 years.

Sources: http://www.fundaciongerardodiego.com/

Women Allowed To Drive

Desire, Passion, Love, My Beloved

It is impossible to separate the love of desire and passion. I love not feasible in the distance, or the impossible desire, much less platonic love. Maybe when I was 15 ... lived my romantic nature of illusions ... I want everything now, together, together ... never dissatisfaction voluntary, guilt, self-mutilation of the soul, the ruling family of indifference, emotional frustrations. Whatever ... or that it is not, but anything by halves, no warmth. Fortunately it is and better than I expected ... pleasure, ecstasy, happiness and love above all is love.

POEMA 12

Oliver

Girondo

They look, they sense it is a wish,
caress, kiss, get naked,
to breathe, lie, is sniff,
they penetrate, they suck, they disfigure,
to sleep, wake up, light up,
are greedy, be felt, are fascinating,
chewed, they like, they drool,
confused, flattened, disintegrate,
goes dormant, die, are returning,
are stretched, the curls, bob,
twist, stretch, flare,
strangle, tighten shake,
is therefore meet, faint,
repel, is enervating, is like,
are undertaken, they are linked, collide,
crouch, you imprison, dislocate, drilled
, are embedded, are riddled,
are riveted, are grafted, are screwed,
fainted, revive, shine,
are addressed, are swollen, mad,
melted, welded, calcined,
tear, bite, they kill,
raised, is looking for, they rub,
be shunned, evaded, and delivered.

In 1891, within an affluent family in Buenos Aires, 17 August, Oliver was born Girondo. From boy travels to Europe and educated in major centers in France and England. Following his experiences in contact with the avant-garde poets exponents. From a very young man begins to write and published his first poetry book "Twenty Poems to be read on the tram" 1922. His early poems are a critique of urban life and customs.

His works include "Bumper" 1925, "Scarecrow" 1932, "Persuasion of Days" published in 1942, "Our Country" in 1956 and his poetry more audacious "In masmédula "published in 1954. In the latter, Enrique Molina said "Until the very structure of language is impacted by the poetic energy unleashed in this unique book. To the extent that the words themselves cease to merge individually separated into groups, in other more complex units, species of superpalabras with multiple meanings and versatile, which sense both from semantic and phonetic associations.

In 1943, almost twenty years after meeting the poet Norah Lange, marries her and live a life steeped in the world, through his extensive travels. In the early 50's, Girondo ventures into the paint, with a focus surreal, but never exhibited his paintings. died in Buenos Aires in 1967 .