We The People Bmx For 150$

Freedom ...

Part 3

signed papers to us freedom! The nursing department head went into the corridor towards us. We were certain that this was her and not someone else subordinate. Without even seeing her slender silhouette dominated a large black hair and brilliant as was the complexion of his skin, marking his footsteps in this place could not betray our thoughts ... Sixth sense, not! The pounding of his pumps, br uit its heels! Madame is the fart, the playing is dry, probably his hierarchical position, donor orders and mistress of John the boss ... The style of dippy enticing teaser and turned on, the silicone breast, ready to move on or g smooth as any living body! Proud, imbued with his person, that earned him many times to tease the bun with Aisha that her top of its simplicity, its sturdy character of Berber, could no longer support orders and antics of this crane dressed up Each day of the week.

I began to fear the worst. The danger was not over Charles. Calm, serene asked if he expected now as all of us, the clicking of the key turning in the lock cylinder of this postern, a bond of demarcation between two mo na are ... The one where we have long had no more notion of time, pleasure and enjoyment: cold, clinical, sterile, robotic worse ... real fortress with loopholes by measure of protection for or against whom, and why, and what the outside world in which we were to plunge, follow again the clock our sense of life too!

In the hall, the clatter of footsteps became more urgent, more intense, and I no longer dreaded the confrontation between two worlds, on the eve of my starting to civilization sation, the uncollected for a long time ... but rivalry between two women for whom the sense of the word exact beauty was so different. A solidly built like a goddess, self-centered at will, which was intended merely to look at themselves through the eyes, the attention paid to his buttocks. The other my little grandma that she kept her Kabyle rejuvenation, kindness, and more: her memories happy or unhappy past ... placed there in her heart ... The p read jewel box!

I was scared, have clamped against myself my goddess. His heart was pounding, his blood ready to turn a single word misplaced. Have filed on his cheek the softest kisses, as if to show him how much I loved her, but also to calm st. She was my beautiful island, my Corsica, all by myself. I could not allow anyone to tarnish, tarnish the good image of this worthy descendant of the Moorish kings, whose image is carved forever in the depths of my thoughts on the red brick walls of the Alhambra in Andalusia ... And could isk Granada I start to talk bad writer I am! I was ready to unpin, to throw him in full face, this bitch is mounted on godasses s at the slightest indiscretion ... Could it right for once but probably the last, but not to jump ... pleasure and joy?

Damn Me ... then I'd eagerly carried away to defend the true friendship? But she knew my friend, for her, what would I not done? Do not turn loop like a bear in a cage, to think and have my fill of past memories, loves dead, no longer be e the illusion of myself, my own enemy ... Abdicate face of adversity in life, that never gave no ... Too! Capitulate ... why? Weakness ... That was enough! Everything became clear, clear my mind , I had to stop falling into this abyss of irretrievable my thoughts offensive, draw a line fuss the past there much to bear ... Learning to live, love, accept me ... especially retrospect, to love me!

The door of the office of John when we were suddenly opened. The stilt-walkers large carnivorous shook hands with our head buried in Kador "The creative writing and daydreaming", as a good disciple of Freud ... No doubt he expected another form of greeting, in the form of caresses more subjective, but it was not ... Not to commit the irreparable ! No transparency staging, not to expose the intimate parts of their secret life, our ye ow 'sick' but nevertheless as voyeurs in every human being! Too bad, no way to splurge one last time before they block ... In our view, a desire to let go and we wish the best Madame John smashes against him tonight. We could not resist any longer, we are three accomplices, imagining the virtual scene of their play ... The brains of John with his bird Madame crane, head nurse at the time, stilt-walkers who do nice made short by launching "krooh" fun while wiping his nose ... Yes we began to laugh, a force of violence to shake the skirts of their moral virtue and small.

Goodbye beautiful imagery ... Between chuckles pl aisir and laughter, I would have liked to bring my support to poor psychological, in the process of fluff body and soul by this misleading flesh-eating ... But to each his life and no need to mention wear ... The initial is not so useful!

They looked at both, but not in love ... From a knowing wink and liberating, speaking to us, in unison, their voices were heard:

- You're fine now ... Go, good winds and above all good luck!

We were going to need it, then likely to provoke us, to desire, to seize this opportunity ... From this, we were aware.

The door finally opened, we were free of our movements, but released in that ... Only the future? One last caress the little kitten we had not tamed and a slow turtle , went out hand in hand ... winners or losers?

I remember ... It was an autumn day, it was raining outside ... We had to reinvent the tenderness, love, life. No one to expect, and cohabitant concubines had fled ... sorry but hope too!

My treasure, my friend, put his hand on my cheek ... I began to tremble ... Was it the rain, cold, or the beginning of a beautiful feeling ... nascent

LOVE FRIENDSHIP

But she had one lover

And no one remembers anymore

Taste the kiss in the neck

She asks me to kiss

I do not know if it moved

And I am embarrassed

Even just a kiss like that

Love friendship

I do not know if in disgust or pity

I cross this ocean

Who goes from friend to lover

She puts her hand on my cheek and my modesty
takes a hit
she thinks is crazy especially
That sometimes you close your eyes I see
small blue ships and sail houlent
Who ever
Inflated love and tenderness

It is very hot for an hour

But she kept her coat

Lest I track him skin

What it seeks is formidable

Car Sometimes the mouth can

In a chilling and more

That she no longer remembers

But she had one lover

And do not even remember

From the body that bends and twists

If she missed the gestures

From this love missed the rest

She remembers Moreover

From stab in the heart

Who goes from friend to lover

Vassiliu Pierre, 1970

These 3 characters will return from time to time, tell you their wanderings ...

soon ...

MICHEL

What Formula Do Hospitals Have Australia

Opening to the world of art is not easy ... I made a step towards this unknown world ... What happiness!

Thursday, 28 this month, before the doors Grannet Museum of Aix-en-Provence I, and most well attended ... 12 hours to the dot ...

TO SEE THE EXHIBIT AT WORK this great artist

ALECHINSKY Pierre was born in 1927, the year the film became speaking. Pierre ALECHINSKY would want to stay silent and paint. His paintings are in our own way or music or silence

"We are writing stories dumb"

Pierre ALECHINSKY loved jazz as members of COBRA (to which he participated) because there is in jazz, this spontaneity is known as improvisation.

Pierre ALECHINSKY place its black line "comm e a long coiled cobra" , he does not press the brush to avoid damaging it, we Pierre said he ALECHINSKY a gesture writer when he wrote that you'd painted with his brush as Oriental besides it uses real Chinese brushes.

It also says he loves watching writing in a mirror, is more beautiful, more surprising when one no longer understands what it means.

ALECHINSKY Pierre is a lefty that has been forced to write with his right hand, suddenly when he painted it from right to left to avenge ...

Pierre ALECHINSKY often painted on the floor, on large paper, but there are many prefer the old printed papers, those who have already served, invoices, maps, maps of geography ".

His art does not give the lie to this sentence Paul KLEE :

"Writing and drawing are identical in their substance."

Chetna And Prithvi From

Hope ...

Part 2

We finally went out of our daily lives, caught between dormitory, park outside the courtyard and stuck it like us, but between two pins ... Finished the Calvary , imprisonment and for us, volunteer! Appeasement, reconstruction, renaissance! End of a temporary state has already forgotten the beginning of another life of hope, fit again, will launch a hue and cry, so intangible, in the outer life that we already snapped up!

so long since we expected this magic moment, but we were only three pilgrims to leave this world today clinico-prison: Charles devastated by his too great ability to analyze everything, dissect, intellectualize, Aisha my love apple that was still on the skin of his many tasks and pseudo narrator suffering that I am, craftsman builder words to forget his woes.

The door of this corridor is usually double-locked was finally opened, but rule and duty require, we needed once again, but this one, the ultimate, end all wars, good, go again to our friend John decoding expert in specific, for final recommendations and is sign landfills ... Freedom, yes but at what price? It's funny already this moron to shrink, staring at us from the top of his round glasses to Lennon seventies style, waiting for one thing, we relapse ... Have we time to recover, and furnishing the space his beloved school! Currency, CAC 40 ... Residents helpful in this time of so-called shortage, between Gasoline and potential customers missing! Suddenly a violent laughter came ringing between signatures and quiet of the office where we were ... It was Charles ... But had he been drinking? A rincette extra! No trace of pint ... Bizarre!

The idea of taking off ... In his own way, he wanted to share his feelings, his emotions? In any empathy we understand our friend, whose stigma attached to glasses of alcohol down so easily had almost disappeared More ... track of, he was happy and wanted the brink of departure, we share his joy. But as to how he did, we stayed broken, bent double, laughing! The fountain pen as a microphone, staring at the shrink between the eyes, he began to give us a recital of John Lennon, a truly amazing song mocking, pest, victor, but probably also to exorcise her fear ...

You must live

You gotta love someone You gotta be You gotta push

But it is so hard, it's really hard
Sometimes I feel depressed

You gotta eat You gotta drink

You gotta feel something You gotta worry

But it is so hard it's really hard
Sometimes I feel as depressed

But when it's good is really good

And when I hold you in my arms baby
Sometimes I feel as depressed

You must run
You gotta hide
You gotta keep your woman satisfied
But it is so hard, it's really hard
Sometimes I feel depressed

"It's So Hard - John Lennon"

He messing really to the point that our eyes began to say a lot ... Aisha stared at me his eyes still soft, but I felt deep in his pupil a deep malaise, a feeling of sadness despite his giggles of happiness due to the bad effect of stage performance, our friend Charles. She was afraid, as I was, what psychological reactions, which, endorsed at the back of a chair dressed in black leather, continued to take notes, so mechanical. He never laughed, remained impassive, cold, marble! His pen continued to slide on a scrap of paper to the right of our passes, safe-conduct essential to our movement, outside of this fortress medicalized. Our friend, the spirit usually fair and analytical, began to flipping out. He swam in a euphoric happiness but went the other way has weighed in white coats in front of him, watched the Mataitai, did not miss a beat and that its ruling would be final! We, my little doll Kabylia and I do so as quickly to save our friend, our brother, in the name of friendship woven over the days in secure custody ... the save before he does it again plunge for dementia, this time without appeal, and especially for him, without recourse, no defense.

We had to run to the emergency room to save Charles, but how? The psychiatrist had not fired him a smile ... A zygomatic frozen forever? John was he at the breaking point, stressed to death before this skit performed masterfully by our kicker? Cold face, pale, impassive reef to the immense stature, sitting behind a desk ... What impressed and spinning chills of the body, the shrink! A screeching noise, sharp and long rang ... The manitou dressed all in white, was just lifting her buttocks, her chubby ... from his chair, who also only ran on three legs hence this allergy as a toothache when I felt becque with a silver fork. Holy terror! I started to laugh, a laugh long and continuing endlessly, reminding me of my teenage memories ... In my bedroom wall, between posters of rock bands, a huge drawing of an old horse on the change of life, loosened teeth decayed to three quarters, with this beautiful legend "Hi ... hi ... hi-hi! Mom, I have no teeth ... "

John began to work around the office, approached us and yelled: -" Pull up, strip assholes ... Hurry up before I change my mind and makes you commit again! "Charles stopped his delivery as dry. We looked, the psychiatrist was in disarray. Would he join the dance, carried away by the whirlwind of our sweet madness? A new friend, who knows? It is so nice to let go and grow up together ... It's all about symbiosis!

(Any resemblance of place and characters is pure coincidence ...)

LOOK ...

MICHEL

How Much Do Dey Sell Pocket Bike

Nothing or very little to say ...

FRIENDSHIP ...

Since yesterday when I got retama, splashed by a lady who dumped me, citing excuses moult about me ... While for her, I had the greatest friendship ... These past two days of happiness with him, recounted here in these pages on a ticket are gone ... I do not know and never know why! I blame the sudden, everything trembling! But I felt no verbal abuse, however, does not speak to it ... So why? The reasons are simple ... I think that suffering is human and no doubt his is she stronger than mine! But today, I confess ... Provided it, I think ... I feel very lonely!

So is it that I denounce the false-ass attitude and excessive blame this hypocrisy, the false-friends or just tell me: a simple reflection of our beautiful and fraternal society? In me, I have my answer! But out of modesty and respect, I keep it hidden, even at risk to suffer ...

SUMMARY IS EVERYTHING IN THIS LITTLE VIDEO ... "Song BENABAR"

AND THEN IS THERE SO POINT ...
JUST A SHOWER?


"I love the poetic world" of this GRAND A rtiste ...

Used Helms Bakery Trucks

Confinement ...

Part 1

Only two fifties and a few pine cypresses surrounding the arbor of outer space, morbid psychiatric clinic of the universe ... he was so depressed too that the ground mingled dust mixed with gravel faded meteorites? Looking more closely, no paranormal phenomenon, no little green men come from Mars or elsewhere. No need to review the training system of the universe, cosmology exact science, then? Like cash?

From our small group pacing, cigarette in mouth, one of us walked to the center not of the universe, but this tiny courtyard ... From the pupil focus in its Iris fantasy worthy of the most beautiful kaleidoscope, our friend Charles had just seen forever etched for eternity on a limestone used for decorative ornament, the first Archaeopteryx. We knew the previous life of our friend, the eminent and distinguished scientist, former researcher at the CNRS, the cynosure of his youth by his peers for his meritorious research ... But, like all of us, he had sunk to the depths of his fall, lost between alcohols and ethereal love disappointed!

No it was not dust meteorites Juche ground, but rather the ashes of our cigarettes, that for a moment permit us to forget our condition, our misery. Caught in the whirlwind of life, love between the dead and work that had been the coach, we were became "die misery," less than nothing, emptied of all thought, naked as worms. ... Some poor wretches!

In those moments between takes medication for me but if not revive me a little relief, was dictating and I kept telling myself this beautiful text ... An old song, an old woman like me in misery ... They are not my words, only the evils that keep me awake sometimes, in this cruel world

On the back dented

From an old forgotten

In a corner Earth,

A bundle of dead wood,

Versant its two edges,

hiccuping on stones

Heavy, heavy is the burden,

heavier with every step yet again.

Menton flush stone

Old misery drags

And wears his wealth,

Winter crushes his arrogance

And the wind plays the organ

With her legs dry

Heavy, heavy is the misery

Heavier still under the yoke winter.

The bundle, with each step

Becomes a little flatter

On the back of the old,

But it does not stop,

And still some wood

A three paces from her home

Lasse, was the old tired, tired

More

yet the return of the day.

By oiled paper,

door, serrated

oozes a wedge of light,

And is the old entrance,

Its heat,

slain his misery,

Burns, deadwood,

You are the gold misery

Heater stronger

What remains of flesh.

But it was still not heavy

And fire petered

immediately clear flame,

And the old forgotten

was returning search

His deadwood misery .

God, seeing and toil and groan,

Both took pity he thought fit to intervene,

"Rejoice, I t'inscris in my book,

Go, I grant you ten more years to live."

between two flashes of lucidity, I thank George for Chelon these verses by the hand and took the granny to take her to another world than where we were confined, where compressed air if we prevented She was breathing ... my pearl, my goddess, my neighbor dormitory, the little old native of Kabylia. She kept her coquetry youth, beautiful silver jewelry that bewitch and give it an air of youth, naive and beautiful as an apple. I imagined in a dream, a young girl in his home province ... It was due to turn heads ... So many questions to which I could not answer ... In singles outstanding!

me finish grind the spirit of dithering over possible ... I had to accompany him to that other world, our paradise ... To us, if it is futile! Forget this nightmare, join our steps towards a better world full of hope, away from the horror in which heads and feet bound, we were! I held him tight against me, my love, my little artichoke ... She was hot, so hot I had loved in those moments, the peel off, and my mother let me sway to the whims of her charms and forgetting chastity and temperance.

It was only dreaming ... The supporters came to surface, power and money! We huddled louder, the better we like it, but also resist the monarchy shifted oh, this symbol CAC 40 stinking money.

It was there before us ... So high, so great that we could see that his white coat! Nurses or prison guard, everything depended on the times ... Robust as a reindeer, flying hair, the hairdresser was not to be part of his knowledge, even for those more intimate, I think!

In his monotone, we threw a big hello ... Nothing really fraternal, so cold! Sorry to bother you good people (hypocrite Judas, I thought), but the humidity falls, I had no voice to answer him qu'abdiquer was not my forte ... We followed the pseudo-caid caregiver, which in our mouths and did not care passionately deliver buttocks and went back to piquouses mouths and pellets of all kinds.

Next

tracking or monitoring the following ... Was it so important? As still having some notion of space and time, we poor devils sore, injured, tired, hurt by this dog's life! Were we in this mess, half-buried for ages or only one year ... Who knows! Unfortunately we had no response.

The shelves of our rooms, we could hear the many sounds of the teeming life outside ... as much or more than the mob that was brewing. France and the industrious worker was on strike, fighting for preserve its rights! The "Little King" trembled at the top of his ejection seat ...

I approached my beautiful, told her: "Look Grandma, nothing is dead ... they live ... Everything moves" ... What does Should we not do, waiting, hoping that before the blueberries grow back?

And we were simple contemplation, no enjoyment, bundled up in our canvas that serves as a straitjacket, not to take the bottle and good times ... Only likely to be the sole obsession that tears us apart inside ... Living, found that freedom than ourselves in our life, had buried in shame, clumsiness or weakness ... We finally find the world of the living and not around an arbor, but a table, surrounded by friends to eat all we profiteroles!

Ranger ... as if to forget our bad memories! In the dusty corner, where he never arise trace our fingers, library closed forever.

Forget ... reborn one day! Medium would I, could I donations hidden shameful ... dare bring to our simple stage directions great theater of life!

MICHEL

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True Talent ... Featured!

THANK YOU FOR A concert full of a talented artist DA SILVA.

Enjoy!

Da Silva, Paleo Festival Nyon 2010 (full concert) sent by paleo . - Watch the latest music selection.

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FESTIVAL at the 67,250 rural house KUTZENHAUSEN

YOU CAN FIND ME with new Merkwiller IN THE ROOM 5AM ON 6 AND 7 November 2010

This year I'd be in the room Merkwiller (2 terms), even if it's not for me just for this festival, however monbreux point of the Cross Kutzenhausen.

Homemade Temporary Hair Dye

wise Carpe Diem ...

I read, reread constantly .. . Y finds happiness and wisdom! ...

Thanks Wedding Message

Too hard ...

PLUME D'ANGE (C. Nougaro)

Angel's Feather

by Claude Nougaro

You see this pen?
Well, it's a feather ... Angel
But do not worry, I do not ask you to believe me, I ask you more.
But listen again, one last time, my story.
One night I was doing a hilarious dream when I was awakened by a chill in the air.
I open my eyes, what do I see?
In the darkness of the room, myriads of sparks ... They were going to join, by swirling magnetic
a point in front of my bed.
Quickly, the accumulation of magnetic flakes, phosphorescent a body is constituted.
When the last flake had finished their race, an angel stood before me, an angel with big wings regulatory milk.
Like an arrow from a quiver from his shoulder he pulls a pen he handed it to me and he said:
"It's a feather angel. I give it to you. Watch it around you.
one human and you believe this unfortunate world open to the world of joy.
That only human to believe you with your pen of an angel.
Goodbye and remember, faith is more beautiful than God. "And the angel

disappeared leaving the pen between my fingers.
In the dark, I stayed long, illuminated, shivering with ecstasy, smoothing pen, breathable.
In that time, I lived for a sumptuous breasts passion harmful.
I turn, I wake up:

"My love, my love, look at that bird ... It's a feather angel Yes, an angel was there ... He just give it to me .. .
Oh my darling, you know I am incapable of lying, scandalous joke ... My love, my love, you must believe me, and you'll see ... the world! "
The beautiful, her face obscured hair, spiders sleep, replied:
"Leave me peace ... I want to sleep ... And stop your damn smoke Nepal!"
She turns away and shit !

In the morning, among the negroes of the first pigeons and garbage, I promptly left with my friend the safest.
I showed my pen to Africa, garbage cans, and of course the pigeons which made me wheels, coos admiringly of consideration.
I ring.
is my friend Andrew.
Calmly, with precision, I emptied my bag Bible, my pillow heavenly
"You get on well, Andrew, that I take seriously and all humanity pulls its orbit warlike and deadly curse . A clear! No more suffering, stupidity. The joy, the light coming! "
Andre thoughtfully massaged his temple, he gave me a smile moved, dragged me into the kitchen over coffee, as I explained, sensitive, myself, inclined to mysticism wild, I had to reconsider this apparition.
Rest ... The air campaign ... Precisely with the birds, true!

I find myself in the roaring street, gnawing the pen in my pocket.
What to say? What to do?
"Officer, look, it's a feather angel."
I think! Immediately the
thundering herds of cars already fractious flatten. Men leaving bright, haloed and kiss their flying sobbing.
Seriously!
I walked, I walked, devouring their faces. It? The little lady?
And suddenly the idea came over me, obvious, brilliant ... Abandon the men!
Let us turn to the kids! Only they know that faith is more beautiful than God.
Children ... Yes, but which one?
I was still walking, I walked again. I did not look over the mouths of passers-by staring, but in me, garlands of children's faces, my dear, my Fairy, my gullible me smile.
I walked, I was flying ... The wind not flipping my Paris ... Pages of stone, asphalt, pavement now. Those
the St. Vincent Street ... Stairs of Montmartre. I ride, I go down and I freeze in front of a school, rue du Mont-Cenis.
Some women waited out kids. Falsely
father, waiting, too.
Here they are.
They result from kindergarten through fresh puffs, by bubbling colorful. My eyes flit of emoticons in pretty faces, seeking a revelation.
On the threshold of the school, a little girl stopped. In the bright light of April, she blinks her small eyes of jet, slightly slanted, a little Chinese and rubbed vigorously.
Then she takes her school bag orange, just bounced Mathematics modern.
So I followed the ball brown and curly, climbing the stairs behind the Butte.
A few hundred yards she went into a building.
long time I just stood there, stroking my teeth with the tip of my pen.

The next day I came out of school and the next day and the days that followed. Her name was Fanny
. But I decided not to address it. And if I frightened with my mouth dry, my sweat sacred
my deathly pallor, vital?
So what do I do? I kill myself? I swallowed my pen? I plant in my ass sumptuous passion harmful ?
Then one Thursday, I told myself I tell him. The lungs
spring exhaled breath of their first plague paradise. I rushed my steps, I stretched my hand towards the curly head ... Just as I reach over my shoulder a heavy hand hit.
I turned, there were two, they stank the bar: "Follow us."

the police station.
You know the police?
The cops who hit the board in the Gallic Sandwich ...
A layer of tobacco, a layer of beating.
The commissioner was a good boy, he was not rolling the mechanical he rolled his r: "Sit down. It seems already to have seen you somewhere you. So like that, we follow the girls?
- Exits to pass for a madman, I'll tell you, sir, the real reason why I approach this child.
I get out my pen and I'm doing my verse and miraculous night. - Fanny, I am sure, would have believed me.'s killers, fonts, our secular Tennis blows, all that was finished, gone!
- Let the object, "said the Commissioner.
From between my trembling fingers he took the pen and holy is technically an eyebrow before rolling man .
- It the goose that ..., "he said, I know myself, I am of the Perigord.
- Sir, this is not the goose is an angel, I tell you!
- Calm down! Calm down! But you still admit that such a statement requires to be supported by a minimum of investigation, the absence of evidence.
You'll wait a moment. We'll look after you. Nicely eh? nicely. "We

looked after me, kindly.
Between ECT, I stroll in the park of the psychiatric clinic where they put me up for a month.
Among the various siphoned frolicking or s 'cut down on the kind turf, he is a being who fascinates me. It's an old man, very handsome, he always stands motionless in an alley of the park in front of a cedar of Lebanon. Sometimes he stretches his arms and slowly chanting a text seems to secret sacred.
I finally approached him, by speaking to him.
Today we are friends. It is a type surprising, a scholar, a poet.
You say he knows everything, learned everything, smelled, seen, penetrated, is an understatement. From his massive beard
, a little green, hair thick and twisted the word out, calm and fruity, watering a story where all the mystical, the metaphysical philosophies unite, come together to resemble the well-starred his memory. In this well

rejuvenating intellectual fool, I come down, bucket full of water fresh and clear intelligence allied to love, I go back.
Sometimes I gaze with a smile. The folds of her frock, they sort of nuts, big nuts that breeze suddenly in his palm, crack! for me the offer.

One day he tells me about birdwatching compared between Olivier Messiaen and Charlie Parker, I no longer listening.
A great silence in me.
But the man whom the angel spoke to you, this man found who can believe in your pen, Well, yes, it's him, he is there before you!
Without hesitation, I pull out the pen. Eyes bronzed
throw a spark.
It examines the pen with a sharpness that makes me shiver from head to toe.
"What a magnificent specimen of the pen of an angel, you, my friend.
- So you believe me? You know!
- Of course I believe you. Hose slightly fluted, the nacrure beards, no may be mistaken.
I can even add that this is a penne Angelus Maliciosus.
- But then, it is said that a man believing me, the world is saved ...
- I arrest you, friend. I am not a man.
- You're not a man?
- Not at all, I am a walnut.
- You're drowning?
- No. I am a walnut. The tree. I am a tree. "

There was a chill in the air.
Standing out from the tops of tall cedar, a bird came to rest on the shoulder of the old man and I thought I recognized, miniaturized, the mischievous angel who had visited.
All three of the bird, the old man and me, we laughed, we laughed a long, long time ... The
giggles, what!

Nadine Jansen Chrissie

And if ... Behind the keyboard ????????

Weariness
trying ... You screw! You live badly,
Not true, my boy? A

you find both hands
Typing on a keyboard azerty
to tell you, tell you
forget,
And who knows, listen ...

In this virtual, where the eyes riveted
you stick full of hope A
forget decency
On the web, no guilt
Like any (e) to each (e) At the option of
your travels ... You move


would you do to Image of two initials,
That this 'F' ... ace 'B' ... ouc
Far prohibitions, imponderables,
Try to find happiness, if not a reunion?

Behind this smokescreen,
You start to dream ...
No need to license,

Here everything is possible in this virtual world,
Provided that you have drunk!

one friend to another you jump,
Forgetting to extrapolate
... What's more normal
On what basis and fucking
data would allow you to judge you? No
...

Like a bull you DARK
head straight horns in front
And ... What matters is where the wind!
Curb your impulses, your desires
Slow down, big mistake ... Would


On paper nothing is forever lying
... Listen! Can not you hear
The long black coat lady
invite you top of his grace,
At best division?

"My most beautiful love song is you"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kYo2pGVT Zc & feature = related

Chante Barbara ... Sing again
Softer, higher your voice ...
For him, above all, do not stop! Understand
he finally
such brightness of colors in a beautiful watercolor
Life is a mixture of honey and silk?

Become the sole organizer of your life, Do
perceive it more like an abyss
where you would struggle to survive ...
Gamberg Stop!
move you, and sometimes as a girl in you Let
, tears beading!

Friend with yourself, you will become
One day perhaps ...
And even if your heart is sometimes routed
Do not give up, dude!
One day perhaps, but when?
You will be able to give and
Beautiful, tender, sweet picture of you!

Life is no coincidence
Perfidious hallucination ...
each (e) to raise the image, tone
Ensure that it is simpler rough!

Silence returned
more votes.
The long, lovely lady, was killed under his shawl
he fled

daring to reveal his sensitivity.

In this writing, Sometimes the poor guy
escapes, wanders ... more ...
A Look! Why?
Will he need a pusher
to help?
Or a hypodermic injection
To reactivate ...

MICHEL

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Place is built to accommodate the words of a friend!

IN NEAR ...... AGAINST YOU AND

I write my words for you

for you that I love

words of honey and dawn

words sky and gold

I have in me thy seasons and your flags

Guard in you my passions and my streams

You dropped my drift floating

illuminated my fleets drifting

Done capsize and sink my boats rafts

my

You have hung up my southern suns

your fingers and you caress my soul

you keep my secrets in your eyes red and my

storm of anger that you never blame me

verse I love you and against you

With you, I want to fish by greed

be cold and letting go

I love you because you're you and

none other than you

One day I hope

be any cons you

One day yes one day it said one day surely

Before my last spring ....

FREDDIE SAILOR

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Mere words dedicated to a woman ... Plus, a mother! Write

abscess bursts surely ...

Otherwise forget ... Trying to forgive!

Do more ... seeks woman
The perfect man!
At the risk of losing you
Who knows, you wither ...

Since time immemorial
It has only hurt you, hurt you
, t'injurier.
In these brief moments
Pretending to love you truly, he abused

Whether you love only for him has to give.
Pantin, disjointed doll
You were left alone and neglected,
The transitional body, broken, bent
A half-naked on the bed sheets stained by
For
bitterness And so many regrets ...

The love is conjugated in all tenses
again should we really love! He has
never knew you transmit
Neither happiness, let alone affection. Only
avalanche of blows
In these nights of drinking, wild


dementia ... The years have succeeded
All too ugly, ugliest
Sometimes,
With this single
slogan "Be silent, cash
Do ... say nothing, not even crying
Of your existence
As a woman and wife, forget
Faced with blows that on you, raining!

Your beautiful flower after the heart was gently
closed forever. On
man after the death of this freak You're
sworn never to return
What, with courage, you did
For your children, your two kids'.

You're not sitting there in a park on an old bench
,
A shaky life ... you remember
fleeting moments of happiness past
Even though he had been there!

You sleep all curled
In this bed nursing home ... My hand gently

arises on yours, the greenhouse!
strange sensation, more flesh
Only withered skin, bone stiffness raspy

I smile at you.

You're missing, already As part
if everything was 'finally' finished
... No words, no primer smile
In these moments, I curse
And tell me,
Why not be burnt
This bastard?

Young child I was,
At the time of these facts ...
Eight years!
a shitty life, chess, waiting
A long, long
Otherwise trying to understand, but at least

In me, trying to forgive
To a man, a biological father.

It took me waiting to enter
In my fifty-seventh year
finally dare to forgive ...
But have I really forgotten?

MICHEL

"Written dedicated to my mother"

Yaz, Emergency Contraception

enough??

few lines ... left on Facebook! Still under the "game of words ... ion

A Streetcar Named Desire ...

There are days when the urge takes you, becomes urgent Te ... relax, to abandon the daily routine, allow yourself to daydream! Do not think that would be bad, in fact ... not only in you, you think ... You'd like! ... But only as a character forget warm, humane, loving, too close to your wife, your kids, to the point of losing your own identity, your life ... "Yes, darling! "T'exécutant tenderly, responding with a consenting amen, you begin to inflate the balls badly! Boulot dodo metro ... you exaggerating a little? No! In you, only hope for tram lines just take you away from a couple of gray, hell! Regain your breath. Alone, we tell you? Yeah you admit! Loneliness although in some heavy moments combines so well with the freedom or at least what is left. Lying on your plumezingue, you put yourself to dream, to hope for better days if the minimum moments of happiness. You press the button of your wildest dreams, softly without a sound, light perception ... A breath of air ... The door opens, t'engouffres you! Where are you? Slowly you realize! Slip your feelings, those in your heart palpitate, invite you, the ones you feel. They move, heckling, jostle and dance. Do not you guys more my dreams. Stop holding your polduk erect, proud, straight as a sword in your hands ... The awkward handjob, it's over! Past your teen crisis, you want to play this in the big leagues! Let masturbation bushels to wriggle acnéeux who at the sight of a thong under a skirt for girls. Your life, your dreams, your desires, your fantasies invite you to follow them ... You have entered this new den of life where libido, instincts, spasms make you squirm with pleasure. Of your foot just resting on the steps, you just do not ... You're welcome my friend! Between you here in the streetcar named desire ... Forgotten asparagus hustler who do, need to spend your sorrel for a whore ... The tram will guide you to a place where you never come out with hunger, where you can take your foot soak and brush will ... Vice, sex and no matter if one calls you an ingrate, an infamous villain ... or Addict, probably you will become and all right-thinking people, Swinger ... you will smile, there you are! You do not want to be this poor hermit, but involved in this world of flesh, of life, where everyone shares (e) Living in hermit ... exults, too ... You just gave! Some thoughts from time to time you come in mind ... Your bourgeois, your kids' ... Yes, a problem! Enjoy outside the marriage bed is not easy in these games when Madame, unwilling to lend, give, give himself, give up. But you know, you're aware of ... not easy to keep harmony in a couple such choices, and yet you persist ... Too late, would you now this poor person only armed with his wham, its biroute, his hound, to his cheerful and want to donate to her ... You're right Arpion will roll Bowls ... You need to go stale if that is your goal, but beware ... It's so easy to forget some definitions and some confused words: Love and Love does not always rhyme! The streetcar doors have not closed ... Of your beautiful lingerie, framed shirts and ties are now tight, preventing "Desire" to start, to fly ... The doors are locked. In you doubt emerges ... lack of insurance or you would you not trust in this world? With an abrupt gesture, you spread your doors of your desires, your future sighs! Desire streetcar he continues his way ... Life is so naughty!

MICHEL

Enclosed is a summary of comments on Facebook

• Dominique Renaud, Julia Wilson, Catherine Giovannoni and 3 other people like this.

·

Freddie Sailor lose its identity by loving too .. it's true .... so true.

October 5 at 08:09 · · 1 person Loading ... ·

Carine Wastiel

Question: will or will not go into the world of libertines? If he goes there, does he not lose his identity even more, because it is confused with the word Love love ... love women, love, enjoyment, forbidden love, love ... etc? A ... the long 's there still love HIM? These are questions I'd like some myself respond. Otherwise, wonderful text without an ounce of pornographic vulgarity, everything is suggested, looove! Thanks Michael. View More

October 5 at 09:30 · ·

Freddie Sailor I think loving and Michael are one and one word ...

October 5, at 12:02 · · 2 people Loading ... ·

Betty Michel This text is beautiful !!!!! Michel

October 5, 14:44 · ·

Michel Roux

True It lacks a title to these few lines ... Let's go, in joy and good humor, I opt for the latter: QUESTIONS ... myself to you all! @ Freddie ... I love your words "I believe that loving and Michael are one and uniq ue word ..." In what sense should take it like a caress or a nasty scratch? So simple answer: So many ways to love no, I say once precise and more ... No one deserves to be exaggerated either good or bad ... The love of others can give, be transmitted by gestures and caresses of a sexual nature, but also with simple kisses and made to march in unison, hand in hand ... Each (e) adopt its way of living, giving, loving and forward, depending on what he or she is ... and its own truth! If so slightly, we hold ... This truth! @ Carine ... Your reasoning on the merits is interesting ... By dint of loving too much, it is possible to lose and no longer love each other! Like what the search for the holy grail ... Each (e) his own vision, his own version! View More

October 5, 17:45 · · 2 people Loading ...

Carine Wastiel

Yes Michael! And also a very important word after the love, respect, both of oneself as the other! Never one to impose a way of life which bears no relation to the underlying personality that is a. I say not as ... I might reveal some things lived. I think you can take the comments of Freddie as a "pat, at least that's how I feel. Hugs to you Michael and good evening to Freddie and the entire world. View More

October 5, 17:52 · · 1 person Loading ... ·

Catherine Giovannoni love at any price and especially to feel loved and wanted, to love outside the rules established for ... more taboo it is forbidden and better, love to lose, to die, This beautiful text finally speaks only of love! And what flavor with slang that sprinkled like pepper on a steak! Michel Bravissimo! and Freddie is right: love and Michel are one word! Yet another word: THANKS.

October 5, 17:57 · · 2 people Loading ... ·

Catherine Giovannoni The photo is superb!

October 5, 17:57 · · 1 person Loading ... ·

Julia Wilson Thanks Michel for this text if sweating the truth ... Adore! Sweet kisses to you ♥ ;-)

October 5, 18:05 · · 1 person Loading ... ·

Sergi Pan

It is true that the scale of use of the word love is vast, and this goes from cream puff, love fusional , like the cow for her calf, to love each other for what he brings to our series and only ... nly satisfaction by consuming and not that of the other, And then there's the one I name the Divine Love, which implies the total gift of self to another, and in Love for Love ! At that stage, Love always brings love, where everyone is the subject of love for each other! The Art of Love is learned if desired, as long as we accept letting go of all our beliefs and get in touch with our "heart-consciousness" It is never too love! Plus we give love, you get more and more we trust Self and the Other, or so it is not love! The relationship to the Love makes entirely free; jealousy is the opposite of love; learn to love ourselves and we learn to love each other! View More

October 5, 18:38 · ·

Sergi Loving the Pan one for himself in respect of its diversity!

October 5 at 18:40 · ·

Sergi Pan By loving each other really, what is lost is only the illusion of character that was played previously in existence; By cons at the same time, little by little, it is our real Being of Love that arises in our soul!

October 5, 18:48 · ·

Dominica Renaud Yes it's true that solitude and freedom come together well since we add love and friendship which is not incompatible!

October 5, 18:56 · · 1 person Loading ... ·

Nathalie de Courreges a desire to escape, leaving the train train, take the streetcar of dreams, find love, there are a few of your aspirations in all that supports it .... loneliness? that sucks 'To freedom? Seeking true love?! we're not all in the same quest?! I think if we have these common points:) Thank you Michael!:)

October 5, 22:42 · ·

Naive Naivete wrote a beautiful, full of metaphors! language is there to try to counter the state of alienation of human beings! in a couple or in everyday life! the words speak for themselves! This text reflects a search for life richer, an unlikely search for love! absolute! especially Michel takes the right tram! thank you!

October 6 at 10:26 · ·

Freddie Sailor a text cluttered with beautiful words and love .. a moment of happiness ... Thank

October 6, 12:13 · · 1 person Loading .. . ·

And more ...

Ghislaine Mata Magnificent Michel text .. I recognize you in your words, your life .. I hope you are able to find your way without losing you my friend ..

one friend that I will not cite the name of respect ...

Finally it is love that every day is surely more difficult to live with a capital A and even a little one, but I do not teach you anything. We must be imaginative, inventive and patience to keep the valiant flame. But this famous streetcar named desire does not travel in our dreams. Desire it is he who keeps us alive. In our dreams and fantasies, everything is easy and permits, all the crazy things are possible. The key is to keep believing. I think we need to know without getting lost, and never forget but it's never too late to live nosdésirs. We are indeed two to love and one can not love by identifying with each other but keeping its identity and making their own choices. Watch Your Enthusiasm is not a solution but never think about yourself is not ideal. I think the concept of mutual respect is essential but it is often easier to give than to receive. You're right too when you talk about different ways of loving, they all have value but they do not go in the emotions and gestures as they pass by the words and sometimes can be born of misunderstanding. It is difficult to love, to love well. There are of course wonderful moments in love where you would like the clock stops, but they are so fragile they become elusive. Michel I forgot to comment on your text, it is very nice but I felt like diving deep through that door that you had open, do not be mad! I hope we will have the opportunity to talk again soon ...

And to finish the one for whom I have great esteem: Vallis

cuckoo Michel

I do not understand what it means "Michel Roux you scored in a photo"

Will you explain? (This is Photo rails)

The text is about you? it is excellent

nice day :-)

Vallis October 6, 12:13 · Like I do most · 1 person Loading ...