Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Urban Outfitters Sheets Bedding
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A TOAST FOR THE FARC
took two hours sharing drinks with friends. In the last hour of my repertoire is decreased and devote myself to trash the FARC. Suddenly, when I'm more steeped in hate, I turn the sound of breaking news. I think these are new figures produced by the horror of Israeli-Palestinian Intifada already completed 6 years and has gained about 5 thousand victims and even came to think it is about new revelations of "HH", which of course nobody it serves the slightest care. But no. Even the dead leave the earth as a drink bottle. Neither justice takes longer and is already taking "drunk." This is the release of 3 policemen, a soldier, Deputy Sigifredo Lopez, who has almost killed the soul and the former Governor Alan Jara, ie the humanitarian gesture by the guerrillas to start the new year. And not just for those released, but it will let you play the brunette, and participate, albeit insufficient, the Red Cross (the truth). Down my cheeks runs a chill sendo, I am very concerned what people think about. I feel the earth swallowed me like a landmine. I have afraid to look ahead, look like a child recruited by the FARC ... no no. I can not do this rancor. My hands were sweating as much as sudan Lizcano while fleeing the terror of the F .... At .... Too bad. Drinks will become violent and I get to be like Alfonso Cano. Did I Cano? Anyway. I do not know whether to apologize or leave the table shot as "Sureshot." While the Secretariat
devises a plan to free hostages, I discredit. I have no forgiveness. That's what I call a large demonstration of philanthropy and in return, my greatest baseness. I decide to go home but I await the right time. I can not remain the "razonero" of contention. I can not hijack the happiness of the people. No. No. I am not a terrorist of the Farc. I said it again.
Disturbed by my feelings back to the table and his voice made rifle, lash again. This time not the iconic "lords of the FARC," but those who are sowing terror in Colombia over 50 years, who met record numbers of kidnapping and extortion, those thugs who were masters of San Vicente, which mocked the Norita desire for peace and children, who destroyed people, condemned and prevented dreams progress in many regions of the country. Completed
my harangue, very shy by the way, take the bottle. I raise my head. Deep breath and words full of consideration for my fellow fighters: PROVIDED BY FARC!
devises a plan to free hostages, I discredit. I have no forgiveness. That's what I call a large demonstration of philanthropy and in return, my greatest baseness. I decide to go home but I await the right time. I can not remain the "razonero" of contention. I can not hijack the happiness of the people. No. No. I am not a terrorist of the Farc. I said it again.
Disturbed by my feelings back to the table and his voice made rifle, lash again. This time not the iconic "lords of the FARC," but those who are sowing terror in Colombia over 50 years, who met record numbers of kidnapping and extortion, those thugs who were masters of San Vicente, which mocked the Norita desire for peace and children, who destroyed people, condemned and prevented dreams progress in many regions of the country. Completed
my harangue, very shy by the way, take the bottle. I raise my head. Deep breath and words full of consideration for my fellow fighters: PROVIDED BY FARC!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Alaya Southern Charms
Write poems
A poem
wind leaves your face will look after you.
air is flown, and sleep with you.
wind leaves your bed in the nochePara will you kiss me,
leaves cute niñaTú you're one of them.
you kiss my eyes
Behind the bushes the wind.
sheets, my little
The leaves are loose.
Flying with your hands,
Your hands of lily.
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