Homer Simpson Tattoo Women Crotch

and still go to the front ... Clemente alchemist

After a month of my birthday I walk like a gentleman, with a blue flower in my lapel and a bouquet of chrysanthemums in hand. I have a pillow elephant holding my head crazy dream and I remember only the good memory. And a perfect dinner that sheltered the heart of June at the time of those who want much. I

warm this winter, this time does not surprise me because that I have a pair of socks and three scarves, the first parcito I can say that safe passage is only possible without the numbing cold feet; of second that I have one who cherishes my past, one that combined with my daily life and spirit of beauty, and the last, which could be the first or ever, that not only has my time well spent in their threads, but is the contrast of my essence pulse tissue as only someone who loves unselfishly can. My scarves care my voice, although naturally goes through my hands, to lift it out of my mouth unrepentant word is becoming more honest, raw and helpless, but so well protected by them.

And I carry new evidence of life in the beauty of the world: music, film and literature. What would my body without the vibration and how would my spirit without a body that erupts each time a chord, a scene or a verse are transformed into a wonderful bolt opens my chest in a different breath, enough to propel me to push the boundaries of the known.

treasury share something I received that day, new life Penalty Hahn.

After the fire

I have to collect my rubbish
give the human form that had
and move

Let there
embers in his eyes and clouds of black smoke into the soul

Some scars
by Here and there are acceptable

rest is lie back pain to clean the ashes

and continue walking

Shooting Star

Without
God's love without the love of God and years go

So flies

vainglory of my world

Meanwhile the great genocidal
time sharpens his scythe

And in the depths of my heart

the gods shine by their absence

Night and Fog

To hide the fog in that impenetrable density

floating in the evening as a coven of spectra

At its heart are played
things that are not of this world

And when the fog
will also go with it unthinkable possibilities

The world is again
sharpness and everything remains suspiciously clear

For clarity can hide the worst secrets

The fog is not intended to shed any light on anything transparent
:

obnubilar is your occupation
diffusing the world Gloss over the reality

And he tells us with words of steam:
"There are more things in heaven and earth
of dreaming in your philosophy"

To look into these things
should not dissipate the fog
fog must be
and look inward.

I go forward with a way forward. I appreciate the love of my real friends with this song Maurito gave me and I leave in Salieri ... click here.

Flavor Of Love Myammee Hairstyles

A son of my friends

coming to us

otherworldly
from beyond the stars
and the vacuum of space.
Transcendent, pure,
of unthinkable beauty,
to bring the essence of love. Rumi

The son of my friends
love is being made flesh,
is chosen, as expected.
is the dream that exceeds the dreams of their parents
and the magician who meets and transforms us.

The son of my friends is being

salt that season only the present.
have permission to scratch the walls of the planet and color
human miseries in an instant.

say that comes from very far
but was baked in the heat of a beautiful belly I saw
four hands safeguarding him and millions ancestral
embodied therein.
An alchemist, its mission is to transmute love.

Clemente with the world becomes full of air with your name,
to return the chance to take a break, a chance.
Our gift to the child born:
leave you in the air flying fish
to mount if the land is not reached.

Where I come from, where to find me? - Asks the infant to his mother. She cries and laughs at the same time, shaking the child to her breast, she responds: Sweetheart, were hidden in my heart, but were not his desire. were in the dolls of my childhood when, every morning, modeling in clay image of my god, it was you who did and was rallying.

were on the altar with the divinity of our home, to adore you I was adored. In all my hopes, all my love, my life, my mother, it's you who has lived. The immortal spirit that protects our home I cradled in her at the dawn of time. In my childhood, when the heart was opening its petals, it was you who surrounded him like a heady perfume. Your my young velvety delicate freshness members as a reflection of the dew that precedes the dawn. You, child of heaven, whose twin sister in the light of dawn, you have been brought by the waves of universal life has placed you in my heart at last. Gazing over your face, mystery devours me, you all belong to me has been given to me! Fearing that escapes me, I close to my heart. What magic has delivered the world's treasure my fragile arms?

Rabindranath Tagore elsewhere

And I dedicate this beautiful song (click here)