Dog Choked Now Hiccups

PENNEDOKA Saltatempo!



Some of us

Elisa Mears

Marco Stagnozzi

Lorenzo Ramadoro

have been published on the 6 th issue of the journal Informagiovani Alexandria Pennedoka "magazine in this issue deals with the Earth.

Obviously we have not failed to advertise the group ...

You can see the magazine on the internet or at libraries Borea, Babel and Pandora, the stationery Lots and information centers / CAG of Fabriano.

The journal is closely linked to the group Anonymous Artists of Alexandria.

(both links - anonymous artists and Pennedoka - they are listed among the links next to the right)

Why Jeevan Anand Is Best Policy

FLAG, Lorenzo Ramadoro _________ heading "curiously iridescent Tales" # 11 - comment by Marco Luca Fiorani illustration Stagnozzi

The stretch of Lawrence is suspended between the storyline and poetic inspiration.
Although it would seem the logical in his verses to take over the heart,
though all his knowledge is stretched in giving a reason, even if the thought must lead the quiet shores of a plausible explanation, everything about him is full of anxiety , and a desperate need to communicate these nagging doubts,
this illness progresses, line by line, with a lively rhythm, penetrating, we av-turn, involves you.
You can not stay out because it drags you into his world of raw findings, anger and grief expressed no half measures, no compromises and you will remain shaken, struck, wounded at times.
The truth hurts, to be frank, true, it is often uncomfortable, but there are gains in health to spit some toads because we can not always be: Flags!
Luca Fiorani


Illustration Marco Stagnozzi



The sun dries the weather cools
The rain from the burning sun There
size, no space, no pedestal on which to rest without

A flag pole, s'infanga
falling tears, repent

Lancia flushing with pride in the air flying in the air It flows

is lost in the vortices, has a tremor trembles


An object does not have an ethics
A flag is worn
is dirty, regardless of the value conferred
What you spit on it or sing the praises of its splendor, little change is
an object, a lifeless thing

That curse is spewing complaints against
glorify or praise its merits
matters little
I do not care, I told you

You can keep your reality
Your digging in the mud to grumble satisfied
Take that flag there, I will have more blood in this
I will be empty without a shred of hope the world quota

I have always been and I do not I never realized I do not understand what it's
analyze the problems of this if the only way is to re-establish the future
I leave this flag in the wind, waiting to be pinned to a pole
Hope without an owner who no longer shines . I give you what you see of me. My smiles,
my presence here and now.

but I'll keep my spirit, cast it
violent into the future (not live without money, I can not buy)

It makes no sense now, the tears. I am no longer here, among you
I am elsewhere, without illusions of asceticism or speeches by guru
Only the future, only the project every day on a canvas than a reasonable level of reality
What you build from now on then no longer makes sense. It's just a point.
We will tear down everything and shedding new light
I wait for the new day by giving visibility to many future projects that will be practical ideas for speeches or mere intellectual futility. What I lose, after all, this life?
Lorenzo Ramadoro

Radio Shack Return Not Reciept

in their eyes, Lorenzo Ramadoro inserted in the "curiously iridescent Tales" # 10 - comment on Lorenzo Allegrini

Fragmentation as a digit. Short periods el'incomunicabilità people who materializes into actual paragraphs self-sufficient, in "points people" you might say. This kaleidoscopic variety is reflected in the thoughts of the characters as in the world, through the eyes of the mind "of the same, you can not see in the story. A world of intense tremors as revolutions, and subsequent violent disillusionment, as the arid deserts of the soul. So, good luck to those who can immediately reconstruct the precision of a realistic picture the thread the story of Lorenzo. How should wish good luck to everyone who really tries to reconstruct the complexity of the real world, that we all live with millions of points of view.





Miguel
Puff hatred, anger kicked, and hit. I press my fingers on this feather heavy as the trigger of a smoking gun. As the tears breaking round drops on the ground. Slow slide back a few moments when I lay in terror. Under the broad shoulders of my father cover me from the blows. Brass end up dead on the ground roar buckets on the floor. Clash with the gentle features of a smiling woman. And jovial old lady, seen from afar, the other side of the photo. The weather was a flap that opened my image of the past decades. Property in its pose, the picture of her grandmother placed on the massive desk. The grandmother I never had. The mother and father always looked into a soft sigh.
grandmother ... and her father was now dead.
wear and tear of fear, drenched in blood, swallows the marble stains. Drain the thrill of seeing a baby in desperate point of death. An innocent little man clean the dirty sleeve. Click on a tab with the nightmare of black steel sinking into a bath of death.
was so happens, the murderess fell back on his father's body and lay dead.
While outside another innocent died, a Another harbinger of liberty perished, was taken suddenly and ended up falling down the stairs Reverse input of the presidential palace. Only one in dark black, one lead to slip the brain.
Outside the conquest of fading years of hard struggle for democracy, tanks adorned the corpses lying.

Alejandro
anger gushes from my veins. I hate the child, when I saw my brother fall down the stairs. When I saw him splash of death from brain. When the world pulled up with difficulty from my father was shot down.




The rest of the text on my website by clicking HERE

Yucky Duck Cloth Diapers Price

shows 'water, Lorenzo Ramadoro

not put photos,
in case someone wants to illustrate let me know by e-mail
(in the original set of returns that are not blog allows)


1
drops on dry land, the heart
greedy land
Where the rays fall perpendicular arrogant

Think about it, because I can not squander
gooders
When excessive consumption of water to cleanse the skin

to feel clean

Find them by you of the words with which to describe images

One man, an old man, a child deaths

parched mouth of famine, epidemics of, thirst


Imagine how we might feel to having to travel hundreds of meters


Several kilometers to reach a well

I can not, there's dirt

drained every drop from the exhaust
with his feet covered in soft foam

One could speak of equality
want a better world
But I'm not able to describe nothing more than false remorse

Few of us young people, we
"Western"
can understand what it's disgusting
What is the thirst
torment and anger of knowing that elsewhere people squander
and the desire for revenge that you control your gestures and moves

to ignoble acts stupid and I

m 'surrender
My imagination gives way to reality

And if this "thing" this bunch of letters
broadcaster,
you pulled up a start
made you feel a little more mediocre
(as humans) then
has fulfilled my need
made via at least more aware

Other, I can not





2
Fall Break

Twisting and disrupted


gastric acids
screw having unsafe the innate will to exist quite cut off by the lack

Water

while further north
Some melting glaciers
Li pulls down from the pole
and sells the fruit in bottles
hundreds of $

and hygiene ...
Cianciano
digging at the wrong judgments on those little lava
Shortly demeanor, people also stink But
c'invade the dirt, it destroys the spirit

even if you do not hear vice
leaves clue

Those people down there

having the guilt of being born evil

Those people of the South (the world)
Nor can drink the water
Nor can immerse themselves in their god
In Sacred River


of infected people dying of hunger

hardships of war


And we remain on
judge them from our gaze
The drying up of crops with intensive
draws massive and unhealthy and
their properties should smile?

This was not the soul of man that I dreamed
This is not the address
and although mine was just a kid utopia

though, as it will clean the stench

What do you want, I'm a coward, but I had to at least

whiten my part dirty