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Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
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agonia ![]()
■ Marcher dans la Lumière, prise 2 ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-03-20 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] | Inscrit à la bibliotèque par Csiborg Mirco
I
I am Omar  the crazy gypsy          nimble footed              and carefree              I write poems                on walls                   that crumble                          and fall I talk to shadows  that sleep       and go away           crying I meet fearless girls  who tell me      their troubles          my loneliness             bottled up in their               tummy II I am Omar  the crazy gypsy    I write songs       to my dead mother            hurl stones                at fat policemen                     and walk on sea weed                          in my dreams I walk away from despair    like a horse walks away       from his master            end up in jail                eating powdered eggs                     for breakfast III My spine shakes      to the songs            of women I am heartless and lonely     and I whistle a tune         out of one of my dreams       where the world             babbles out loud                 and Mexican hat check girls                      do the Salinas Shuffle                           a dance composed                              by me on one                                  of my nightmares                                      and sold                                  for a bottle                                     of tequila. IV I am Omar   the crazy gypsy         I waltz through avenues                     of roses           to the song                of Mariachis V I am Omar             the Mexican gypsy I speak of love     as something               whimsical and aloof as something            naked and cruel I speak of death             as something inhabiting the sea             awkward and removed I speak of hate             as something nibbling my ear
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