Tuesday, July 7, 2009

What Atms Can I Go To With My Biolife Card?

Pablo Rokha again "Killed"


Source: Morrocotudo / Wednesday November 7, 2007

Pablo Rokha again "Killed"

Author: José Martínez Fernández.

National Television Channel claims to be the all Chileans. Recently the Canal made the selection of the 60 major Chilean history, and this invited a group of intellectuals.

Among the coaches there are several winners of National Awards for the past 17 years. Jurors were also 17. Men of the art world: Gonzalo Díaz (artist) and Fernando Gonzalez (theater director) very talented men. Juan Pablo Cárdenas (journalist). All received the National Award. Like other well-chosen figures, but they have some "attachment" of so-called founding hero and "detachment" of what we call great poet.

As historians those best able to solve the story, did not. On behalf of them were Sofia Correa, Cristián Gazmuri and Gabriel Salazar, among others.

Salazar also won the National Prize for History, the same was denied Luis Vitale, author of the classic "Marxist interpretation of the history of Chile." Although both were fought against Pinochet and his victims, a part of our state who do not want Vitale, especially for his book "De Marti Chiapas." Whoever reads this book will understand. The trouble is that finding books Luis Vitale is not so easy. Salazar

National History Prize, and loose body, in an interview a few months ago, in the magazine The Journalist, said O'Higgins and Balmaceda, were dictators and murderers and rulers appointed two more of the same way.
cited
But Pedro Montt, the father of the slaughter of thousands of workers in the Santa Maria de Iquique, not quoted Carlos Ibáñez del Campo, author of others, including the disappearance of people for being gay, a fact known for a long time and Pedro Lemebel recently updated.

Salazar not only obvious to those two, but all those who, having been leaders in periods when there were killings, have had relatives in the past governments or from the parliament, have been adept at them. Key tactic of him: "no burn" before a jury that considers valuable this silence to give the National Awards.

All coaches gave him the most votes for Andrés Bello, author of the code that still governs us, to the detriment of O'Higgins, undoubtedly the most important figure in our history. Most, like alumni of the University of Chile, voted by the founder of this university. Bello important contribution, but more importantly, who signed the Act of Independence After struggling in so many places, and who had respect for Aboriginal Chile (Mapuche) and the first who said that blacks should stop being slaves. And made a number of other works. And that was O'Higgins.

weighed upon him that Pinochet has dared to compare. Orlando says about Miles, a former Allende minister, "the misuse of a dictator O'Higgins is emblematic make their own." While in Chile, the dictatorship did "his", in exile I admired and defended, in addition to Miles, Volodia Teiltemboim, Alejandro Witker, Andres Pascal Allende and other leaders of the Chilean left. In Chile it was known that Allende was the admiration by El Libertador. O'Higgins also attracted the admiration of poetic rivals: Neruda and De Rokha. Both sang. Joaquin says

As Fermandois (Academic Institute of History of the Catholic University of Chile): "O'Higgins is the father of the creation of the Republic, with a strong message." Obviously

not left out of the list: Lautaro, Ercilla, Balmaceda, Manuel Rodríguez, Arturo Prat, Aguirre Cerda, and several more in the field of military and political history of Chile. Deservedly so.

In the history of art did justice to the presence of Arrau, Violeta Parra, Roberto Matta, Rebeca Matte et al.

In the field of literature, which is what most concerns us, also did justice to the presence (in narrative) of Manuel Rojas huge, but obviously as an act of injustice, full name Roberto Bolaño.

names in poetry were evident: Mistral, Neruda, Huidobro and all three were considered, but here missed the fourth great poet. The bard who sang to the Beverages and Foods of Chile, who loved his country like few others, who sang the exploits of O'Higgins, Rodriguez, Balmaceda and Recabarren, among other heroes who crossed the country with books in hand . The speaker like volcanoes, with a voice that trembled a lot. Was and is enormous. The poet who loved and sang Chile Chile's poor. Paul missed Rokha here.

Yes, the great Paul Rokha. Whoever

, sepal Chile, is buried in a niche aged a set of numerous niches envejecedidos. There the bones of him next to his beloved Winette. In a niche in which hardly read your name and the sweet woman who always accompanied him.

Rokha Paul, one of the big four of Chilean poetry, abandoned, thrown away, alone.

Now jurors who chose the 60 largest in the history of Chile, National Television mandate also abandoned.

When, in September 1968 Rokha Paul took his own life, Carlos Droguett, amid tears and anger, said: "Paul of Rokha killed."

Today we can repeat that Rokha Paul has returned to being "killed."

's find the poet-hero who sang to other heroes in the one place that has given Chile: a niche old, abandoned, lonely, as he was sentenced to life. Entering through the front door of the General Cemetery. There are two huge buildings niches, very old. The poet is in the building right at the beginning of it in the bottom. Sometimes there are flowers, sometimes only loneliness. The same solitude of the great poet. I was looking

years. He only knew he was in the General Cemetery. Asked by De Rokha or Carlos Díaz Loyola. Goose chases.

Finally, last year, one person, apparently a caretaker told me where he was buried the great Paul Rokha. And told me with a deep feeling. With enormous respect. Village man certainly did know that Paul had been a cantor Rokha workers. And so the way they speak and so their respect and feeling.


SOURCES:

"Magna Carta of the continent", Paul of Rokha, Edit. Crowd, 1949.
"Guns of blood," Paul Rokha, Edit. Multitud, 1950.
"Arte grande o ejercicio del realismo", Pablo de Rokha, Edit.Multiutud, 1953.
"Pablo de Rokha, guerrillero de la poesía", Mario Ferrero, Edic. Alerce, 1967.
"De O'Higgins a Allende", Orlando Millas, Libros del Meridión, sin fecha.




Saturday, July 4, 2009

Enlarged Spleen How Does It Feel

Poems Boris Calderon

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Boris Calderón nace en San Bernardo el 12 de septiembre de 1934. Casi toda su vida se desarrolla en la comuna de Buin. Este poeta siempre estuvo preocupado por las clases most neglected of society, which is why it belongs in the early years of Communist Youth. It was a great friend of Paul and his family Rokha. Published "summer in the matter" (1954), "The Book of parting" (1956) and "Song for a girl named Frances" (1959). Dies at the age of 28 years, May 1, 1962, due to a brain tumor. He was buried in the cemetery of Buin.

Boris Calderon is certainly an author to discover, alien to anthologies or purchase and is often admired only by those who dive into the lyrics without prejudice.



Work.


"The light is broken under my skin"


In the shadow of the stars,

leprosariums under the big winter

I've waited forever

Since you cross of ebony.

exorbitant ghosts, mad,

Vago glass tunnels to the cliffs,

I seek to dissolve in you like the music of

vice

want to find moaning

Before the morning rush in the hollow of my mouth ;

Doubts still be a flower of the abyss?

I think it will still ebony

convulsive As when God yelled: Let there be light!

You ignore the fact that the horizon

There is a catastrophe of columns and planets crazed

And that is still far nelumbios jungle.

Ay! beloved, Anemones Island, Jewel of Horror!

Throw your songs on the ocean of gold!

tore my heart in the twilight!

Touch your eyes with black wings sulfur my

And you'll roll the tragedy of opium.

There , desperate face of eternity,

Solos against amethyst seas,

When the sunset sinking like a ship of terror.

Pale and silent, bury beauty.


NO SOUND PHANTOM RAVE


Where fled, snatching the meat?

Beset by darkness. Pursued.

Where? Gray angel.

The following Beyond the cry of the hyenas,

With a gold rush in his hands fleshless

God shakes and opens forever

The eternity of our coffins.

How I love you!

Fly Like a feverish tumult

Kindle my delirium!

more, oh! Beautiful female slaves of the night,

Why have you decorated my forehead lacerated

With garlands of snake?

Why, damn?

The night she has green perched

And I bite your color without limitation,

color me crazy fallen

Its green devoured death.

Meanwhile, far away, everything changes, everything dies,

Your tiara rattlesnakes,

Your crystals muddy and your tears.

All is dead, leafless, green everything

And fallen forever in the sound.


* From "The Song of the Dead Bocas, 1955 - Suicide Exaltation



Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Where Can You Buy Tech Trucks

Rokha Poems of Charles of Nain


PAVAN
THE SLEEPING

If the night could lead to ghastly mirror of your fingernails, I know it would have been born the mystery. If you reveal it was given, I know you have for me a splendid happiness. But on the odd night swans reflected in your neck and on the morning that cleared (as emerging from a cameo delicately preserved) are you, who are the abolition of time, because your feet lie the shadows of the abyss, and your head topped with sparkling brilliance, is the announcement and the trophy.
The puzzle, reality! A single step your adorable gardener's desire to sow all magic: in his own levity fade and flee to the total extinction.
Do you feel how, on the other hand, the disturbing turn, the fragrances extraviantes stir in the umbels of silence? Are they not the promise of a heady and unexpected demise of an unexpected redemption? They tell us that now is the initiator in the ordeal, the hair-devouring birds on sparkling bonfires for the homeless.
I tell you I longed silence because the child, the awesome midnight dances and gets drunk on our faces where only palpitate and hate crime, which is the most complete form of love.
When your eyes reveal the desired signal on them has retracted the mystery. If you open the aurora boreal, if you have closed it involved the mysterious fumes that come from the blue lotus, talisman blinding blazing in your face bordered by the innocence of the pirates and the dance of a child on the glass of red foam that I rise up in your hands . The graceful priestess
dreamy smiles on your lips (just parted for the seductive song of the ritual offering), and between your fingers, as they fall from the golden sands and off the lamps, the bouquet of lilies tremble still damp I brought this morning the market.



TO THE ARRIVAL OF THE HORDES

My great furor I will be the measure of my wrath.

On the run to the center of me and my be triggered in the prophetic.

My passion for the night, my clairvoyance.

Of Orpheus possessed and crowned by Bella.

make me freer, yet more happy and more multiple.

That everything you have.

That you oh white pirates.

Oh, children of the sky that you have acquired at the lowest price.

People who have never seen one last card played.

As I play her hair to the poisoned water.

In the supreme game where the loser is the great victory.

Do not you scare my solitary animal language?

Or you is not blind who

my eye sparkling like a vast ocean?

Temedme. Alejaos de mí.

Soy el monstruo sagrado, el asesino celestial y benigno.

Aquel que jamás tuvo nada, pero aún así

Su inaudita riqueza sobrepasa a la vuestra.

Porque yo hice mío lo desconocido.

Yo he tocado los límites del infinito.

Y, por último, sabedlo!

Vosotros, que alardeáis de santidad and purity.

never'll be as close to God like me.

That I'm the other side of him

eternity That I revived in a man.

That I am an unknown age.

Moving from hymn hymn, incantation spell.

Towards the center of my heart.

Towards pure worlds, the worlds cursed, denied worlds.

Where I've become

A titan in dreams bed

up
And, yes, traveling.

embraced his pit as a last wish.



JULIET OR THE KEY OF DREAMS


champagne A woman called me from a dream

her eyes Where she twists me
Delicious
is fascinating
Adorable
poisoned

On the blackest stain mouth

That gesture that marks their steps

sentenced to of beautiful rooms

Ocean in your hands renews its mirrors

The life I love is it in his arms




CASCADE CUP



Write my name in the book pm

Where I announce the coming of a more black ocean

The fall of the birds that have lost their wings

About
foliage that sun bleeds

must learn to smile at any price

Be the walker in a forest of black trees and white.

Araucarias drawbridges can serve

Or else everything would lost

the edge of a bottomless glass

Where a large bird mimics snow falls

Tell me

Where there is a queen devour the heart of the prisoner

Tell me

many angels can swim in a water drop





THE Degollado


Fine air swimming a

dress clothes were stripped own

And on their bodies assume the key

the charm of jackals

The tiger round

better dressed than ever wandering bloody

Here are consuming milk rods

Sorting random parts of

Deliver your damn hair to the chair

The dragons tattooed with ermine

These are swollen with pride panthers under

With a red rose body round

Evaporated over their mouths all alike

of laughter from the boa love

More
are pure poison drunk fascinated

wolves in the treaty of obsessive detail magical

greed Liberáis favorable riddles

your neck like the tedium of the falls

Your bodies like laziness

Free and create a bond covenant that

So love with the lovely marks the gallows

live in a heaven given to the lost city

And
arrogant garments in the most cruel landscapes Birds are
Jellyfish "clothing

sing on arrival on the coast of granite
dream when will the big day

beautiful rocks Hawks Trample




RIMBAUD JEAN ARTHUR BLACK OR SUITE


He, who never dared to put a price on your dreams,

saw the guards spit out more
splendid tapestries
A ellos, los mismos que un día negaron las uvas del delirio.

El Festín de las Gracias lo había maldecido.

Bebía un licor extraído de todos los pantanos.

Donde la más bella aventura se perdía en sus propios misterio.

Mientras los aldeanos le veían salir de Les Ardens.

¡A dónde iba cuando en los graneros ardían los mitos del silencio?

¿Hacía what roads of misfortune in what dark horses cried foam the sea?
Angel for his dream demon has been satisfied.

mea heliotrope With the Stars

Furies When he blew the ears

faun and his head burned by the hydra

For the angel that always lives sitting shave

self Fugitive who loved him were the cursed

The
asking their views to a hellish haven Leviathan.

They also have kissed their hands licked by larvae in disarray.

They loved the infant prodigy.

vocal Alchemist wizard punished awake.

breaks the magic keys that kept its key

And against all godliness yields the same ennui.



Monday, June 29, 2009

Is A Cameltoe Natural

Nómez: Paul of Wake