Sam Kinison

Propia disección

Nunca es temprano, cuando tu libertad tiene mal la dirección.

¿nunca es tarde?

En boca de alguien
La buena fama y la falsa modestia;

Discuten la muerte
de la imaginación

en el prado de una lengua

mordida por desencoger;

o desencajar

Belleza

Dios vestido de gala
Con corsé negro
Y sombrero de media ala

Oficiando de madama

En el mejor cabaret del infierno

Belleza

Violencia y Paz,
Vestidas de uniforme militar
Se dan guerra en un telo barato de capital

Belleza

Ver a la muerte en su disfraz de vagina rosada.

Escribiendo letras ansiosas;

En lechos de piedra

que gimen a un mar
que rompe sus caras al amar

¿y si mañana no me despierto?

¿Y si mañana no me despierto?




>Sepan darle mi dirección a alguna necrofilica .

en tu mayusculo

......................

Y mientras tanto...

dios no podía parar de masturbarse





Y se aburría

Mayusculo respeto

.........

Por no saber respetar

Monotonía licenciada,
Ceguera reverberante mugrosa
y oxidada acustica prestada

Quise armarme labores
regurgitando el valor del orgullo;

Ante el almuerzo
de la muerte:


La necesidad de explicar.

Es Vana como picaporte de humo
a cuarto menguante
de mi voluntad.

Algo de mi

...........

La libertad es la mas dulce y cruel de las condenas del hombre
.....

No temo de mis actos,
temo mi imaginación

Algo de mi (2)

Sabe tanto de precios
que no compra
ni paga

ni vende

ni busca

ni llora

ni grita

ni muere

No canta

Aúlla.

No rie

Regurgita.

No tiembla

Se retuerce.

Es una consideración desconsiderada

Pero tan cierta

Que me faltan todas las costillas
Y nunca fui Adán.

Algo de mi (1)

No muerdas mis alas
antes que termine de emplumarme
con tus suelas gastadas

tu intoxicación podría manchar
tu disfraz de persona.

Las letras de Conor Oberst son;(no tengo un adjetivo que logre expresar la totalidad de lo que me provocan)

So there is this woman and she was on an airplane, and she's flying to meet her fiancé, sailing high above the largest ocean on planet earth, and she was seated next to this man, who, you know, she had tried to start conversations, and only, really the only thing she did heard him say was to order his Bloody Mary. And she's sitting there, and she's reading this really arduous magazine article about this third world country, that she couldn't even pronounce the name of, and she's feeling very bored and very despondent, and then uh, suddenly, there's this huge mechanical failure and one of the engines gave up, and they started just falling in thirty thousand feet, and the pilot's on the microphone and he's saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh my God, I'm sorry," apologizing and, and she looks at the man and she says, she says "where are we going?" and he looks at her, and he says,
"we're going to a party, it's a birthday party. It's your birthday party, happy birthday darling. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, VERY much."

And then he starts humming this little tune and it kinda goes like this:
1-2, 1-2-3-4

We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read
And to the face of every criminal strapped firmly in a chair
We must stare, we must stare, we must stare

We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
And in the ear of every anarchist, that sleeps but doesn't dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing

And it'll go like this:
While my mother waters plants, my father loads his gun
He says, "Death will give us back to God, just like the setting sun
is returned to the lonesome ocean"

And then they splashed into the deep blue sea
It was a wonderful splash

We must blend into the choir, sing a static with the whole
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul
And to this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run

We must hang up in the belfry, where the bats in moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball, and only see the past
And in the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge

And then we'll get down there,
Way down to the very bottom of everything
And then we'll see it
Oh we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it

Oh my morning's coming back, the whole world's waking up
Oh the city bus is swimming past, I'm happy just because
I found out I am really no one

El exceso de pena ríe;

el exceso de dicha llora.

William Blake (Proverbios del infierno)

Tomar vino
de tus bocas tintas

Benedetti sigue vivo.

No te salves

No te quedes inmóvil
al borde del camino
no congeles el júbilo
no quieras con desgana
no te salves ahora

ni nunca

no te salves
no te llenes de calma
no reserves del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
no dejes caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
no te quedes sin labios
no te duermas sin sueño
no te pienses sin sangre
no te juzgues sin tiempo

pero si
pese a todo
no puedes evitarlo
y congelas el júbilo
y quieres con desgana
y te salvas ahora
y te llenas de calma
y reservas del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
y dejas caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
y te secas sin labios
y te duermes sin sueño
y te piensas sin sangre
y te juzgas sin tiempo
y te quedas inmóvil
al borde del camino
y te salvas

entonces
no te quedes conmigo.

Qué soberbia es Soberbia

La culpa es
de mi soberbia

Que me culpa de
su soberbia

Que se ama.

Top ten frases celebres (13)

“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness.”

Woody Allen

bBlank generation (Richard hell and the voidoids)

I was sayin let me out of here before I was

even born--it's such a gamble when you get a face

It's fascinatin to observe what the mirror does

but when I dine it's for the wall that I set a place



I belong to the blank generation and

I can take it or leave it each time

I belong to the ______ generation but

I can take it or leave it each time



Triangles were fallin at the window as the doctor cursed

He was a cartoon long forsaken by the public eye

The nurse adjusted her garters as I breathed my first

The doctor grabbed my throat and yelled, "God's consolation prize!"



I belong to the blank generation and

I can take it or leave it each time

I belong to the ______ generation but

I can take it or leave it each time



To hold the t.v. to my lips, the air so packed with cash

then carry it up flights of stairs and drop it in the vacant lot

To lose my train of thought and fall into your arms' tracks

and watch beneath the eyelids every passing dot



I belong to the blank generation and

I can take it or leave it each time

I belong to the ______ generation but

I can take it or leave it each time



I belong to the blank generation and

I can take it or leave it each time

I belong to the ______ generation but

I can take it or leave it each time top

Saint Crispin's Day

This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

"Saint Crispin's day" speech from Henry V by shakespeare

_____

____________________________________

Este es el día de San Crispín.

El que sobreviva a este día

y vuelva sano y salvo a su casa,
se izará sobre las puntas de los pies

cuando se mencione esta fecha,
y se crecerá por encima de sí mismo

al oír el nombre de San Crispín.

El que sobreviva a este día

y llegue a la vejez,
cada año, en la víspera de esta fiesta,

invitará a sus amigos y les dirá:

«Mañana es San Crispín».

Entonces se subirá las mangas, y,

al mostrar sus cicatrices, dirá:

«Recibí estas heridas el día de San Crispín».
Los ancianos olvidan, pero incluso

quien lo haya olvidado
todo recordará aún las proezas
que llevará a cabo hoy.

Y nuestros nombres serán

para todos tan familiares

como los nombres de sus parientes
y serán recordados

con copas rebosantes de vino:
el rey Enrique, Bedford y Exeter,
Warwick y Talbot, Salisbury y Gloucester .

Esta historia la enseñará

un buen hombre a su hijo,
y desde este día

hasta el fin del mundo
la fiesta de San Crispín nunca llegará
sin que a ella vaya asociado

nuestro recuerdo,
el recuerdo de nuestro pequeño ejército,
de nuestro pequeño y feliz ejército,

de nuestra banda de hermanos.

Porque quien vierta hoy su sangre conmigo
será mi hermano; por muy vil que sea,
esta jornada ennoblecerá su condición.

Y los caballeros que permanecen ahora

en el lecho de Inglaterra
se considerarán malditos por no estar aquí,
y será humillada su nobleza

cuando escuchen hablar a uno
de los que haya combatido con nosotros

el día de San Crispín

"El dia de San crispin"

Enrique V

by Shakespeare.