Monday, July 7, 2008

Diy Sailboat Wood Stove

Discurso de Juan Carlos Céspedes (Siddartha) Instalando el VI Parlamento de Escritores.

THE ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT
AND / OR LIGHT OF DIOGENES

By JUAN CARLOS CESPEDES

Athens, ten o'clock in the year 380 BC, the distance is coming to an older man quizás pueda tener 60 años, muchos lo llaman peyorativamente “perro”, aprovechando algunas sutilezas del lenguaje griego. Trae una lámpara encendida, esto causa admiración, pues estamos a pleno día y la misma no se necesita, pues el sol alumbra potente con sus rayos la ciudad. Alguien le pregunta por esta excentricidad y sólo contesta que está buscando al hombre honesto.

La verdad siempre ha tenido enemigos, no porque ella sea relativa, sino porque es propio de muchos hombres ser relativos con la verdad.
Todavía hoy se discute si el escritor debe o no participar en política, y se esgrimen teorías en ambos bandos, algunas respetables, otras no tanto. Pero es, en resumidas cuentas, a very personal decision, on which I would not, nor will I refer, that human beings have enough with himself and tireless voice within.
From the moment a man or a woman, takes literature as its supreme reason for being, in one form or another encounter with the power, and can call whatever form it takes, which are many and varied hazards. We all know the power of the word, examples are there for all: Socrates, Jesus, Mohammed, Gandhi, Luther King, Gaitán (What a coincidence that almost all were killed!) And many others that you know well.
always been the elimination of such a way to impose the first criterion propio contra la opinión que nos molesta. Todavía se escucha el golpe seco en la cabeza de Abel, la orden de Enrique VIII de decapitar a Tomás Moro, la voz de “fuego” contra Federico García Lorca, la muerte en la cárcel de Miguel Hernández, el atentado contra Luís Carlos Galán y la lista sería interminable. Pero hay otros modos de morir, como la persecución, el exilio y formas mucho más sofisticadas dependiendo de la mentalidad perversa y criminal del perseguidor de turno.
Siendo la literatura una actividad solitaria en su génesis, el escritor es dado a ser un individualista, esta circunstancia permite que en determinado momento de su vida, el Poder, del que les hable antes, lo encuentre isolated and defenseless against the hungry maw of the monster. To prevent these situations
steps have been taken globally in the sense of organizing writers parliaments, where thanks to the solidarity of all the artists (novelists, poets, etc.) Help some brothers are disgraced for his work, your opinion or positions on various facts. Too familiar with the case of Salman Rushdie, but there are stories like the writer of Algeria, Aisa Lemsine, the Palestinian Riad Beida, originally from Bangladesh author Taslima Nasreen, in short, the inventory would be exhausting and no time for it.
Today we are witnessing a Parliament of Writers that reaches its sixth edition and which I was chosen President, more for your kindness to their own merits, and experience tells me that we are falling short on what is and should be a parliament. A parliament is not primarily an occasion where you meet friends and socialize on the latest literary fashion, to present the latest work, etc., That's why there are meetings and festivals. A parliament is essentially political and where writers, poets, and intellectuals, come to take the pulse of the situation in the country and the world, to ensure the conditions of persecution of friends and colleagues, who have to leave the country for their positions and actions of those who have to move house because you do not have economic privileges to travel abroad and save their lives, the various forms of censorship that will never fail, and so many ills that afflict the family of letters. Moreover, no situation can never be three days a year, because at this time no specific targets are met for which it was created. And Central America has made great progress in the organization of Parliament or Congress of Writers, also in 2006 was created Hispanoamericano Parliament of Writers in Mexico, initiated by the poet José Emilio Pacheco, in Brazil there is also progress in this sense. That is, around the world has concluded that the writers must join together to have some ability to confront and resist the power, whatever form it takes.
Today I invite you to reflect on the meaning and Parliament do something large, functional or otherwise, we shall see in a year and a toast with a glass of wine for another great opportunity that has gone. Now

Diogenes with his lamp on each of us, and the question we must ask is: when you get off me "Diogenes your lamp?

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Where Is The Thunderbolt Tm In Pokemon Diamond

LA PARTIDA DE UN AMIGO

A Don Jaime,
taught me that wisdom can be delicious
friendship a big tree at noon.


Party Leaving the traveler at the port looks

party away from friends That
with birds in the hands
I say goodbye to the horizon

Allende
That day saw him pass his laborious step
are the words that are appropriated
In a fraction of the soul

Back
us Deep in the ship to be doing an inventory

memories of moments of laughter and anger

These man pages that make up life.
distance
When only the sea and the port
desolate scream your name
arriving on time Where the appointment
memory we gather again.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Map Of Caribbean Islands

ESO DE SER PADRE

AS A CIRCUS

Luisa, Yurika, Michael, Sara and Camil.

At night the stars filtered air
The smell of chips and sawdust
The ticket seller was also the witch
The tiger tamer tame tigers had no
But we saw his art with trapeze dogs
The magician was lost in a drunken stunt
The bearded lady was selling cotton candy
recognized in the balancing toothless goalkeeper
Of the "three happy clowns
only had two Animator photographing children in the pony
A glow made me turn my side
were my daughters' faces lit with joy
That night I forgave him everything.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Heartburn Or Pleurisy

Del libro "Siddartha, el viajero de los pies de aire".

THE SEX OF LEPERS

Nobody can
so lonely No one can live up to that distance Where assimilated
compassionate hand only comes
The caress an impossible crouching in memory

can not remember where you were running the chips
what land were planted in sterile crumbs fingers hit
Learning disgust at the language of the eyes
not know where to get the next track
Go dying and it's main witness

Anchoring in the past to milk the memories
A bit of milk than to heal the living
Double wound of life and death
There is no simple
not forgotten the kiss of love is low lying in the chest

Everything is in solitary stone and iron
And the inventory of the flesh always condemns
bankrupt only the fourth plague suffered by the dead.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

I Phone App Toaccept Collect Calls From Jail

Sidarzia-Tatoo

TATTOO

The tattoo does not save you Cause you are
That the tiger
threat from your chest
Neither cobra rises from your arm
are pure meat bone that opens
part brave airs

In the Terror to the shooting.

Spike Africa- President Of The Pacific Ocean

Siddartha, un poeta bajo la lluvia.

THE HOUSE OF RAIN

Outdoor burning afternoon sun roof
As the water falls
Accumulated every winter
They have passed through my eyes

open umbrellas Furniture
float their stories of visitors and relatives who traveled
your station by my memory

of the dishes and coffee chats
drained the last words
With the taste of sugar cubes
Y la siempre despedida de la puerta

Y yo empapado de toda esa agua
Esquivo objetos que me lloran su presencia
En medio de los truenos agazapados
En cada rincón de esta casa que no se rinde.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Selenium Rectifier Replacement

EN POESÍA NUNCA UNO ES POCO.

5 PM PATIO/POESIA

Sólo han venido cinco chicos a escucharme
Para nadie fue noticia la lectura de mi poesía
Alcé la silla con mi mano libre y dije

De aquí no se va nadie
Que ahora somos suficientes

Los árboles dejaban caer sus hojas
Sobre la voz de las cuartillas
Y la poesía era puro ojos labios mordidos
Ropa acribillada oídos todavía 6 pm


I keep my words and hands become
night Amid the solitude of the betrayal of the chairs.

Where To Buy Black Shoestring Licorice

A veces en Sidarzia llueve y los ojos no cesan.

RAIN IN 3D

Boobs Schoolgirl uniforms fabric pushed water
afternoon thunder splinter
And the smoke of an image memory
Naked follows the rain.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Roullette Expected Value Calculator

POEMAS DE SIDDARTHA

TOMATOES IN THE VIA

Red tomatoes on the floor with the mixture
Some
And the blood spilled on the asphalt reflects
the eyes of passing vehicles

a long line of heads

windows And a woman's black shoes
Far from each other

painted nail His feet left
Tan
As if anyone belonged

Yet I know that somehow surrounded by tomatoes
She's my friend busted

The sister I never knew tomatoes
Blood
my sandals.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Popcorn Digital Player



LAST minstrel

A tribute to Alejandro Durán.

"... what people are saying: That black
other plays, Note that if you eat ... "


always knew that her voice was a gift to cheer
men never left the covers and the hat and" switched "the farmer claimed the misery
the penalties clueless sagacity to his cat and trova no place for sadness Man
later immortalized in stool
Women kiss on the merit of simple words and sound

from village to village wore the victory of "Francisco the Man" about the death
Simple and sober as land
With wisdom mount that permeated his notes
With the water elemental
eternal Fifteen de noviembre el acordeón enmudeció
Señoras llorosas reclamaban el justísimo título de viudas
Decían el disparate que el rey había muerto
Pero él sólo dormía el sueño de la leyenda.