License Number Quickbooks

Issue 31 - Virtual Magazine Poetry - RESUME

Tupacamarú. Miguel O. Menassa

Poetry School
Group Zero Director: Miguel Oscar Menassa
RESUME - virtual magazine of poetry -
'Workshop Sundays at 5:00 p.m..
Alcalá de Henares
NUMBER 31. Sunday 07/02/2010
Coordinator: Carlos Fernández Goose

The green sea. Miguel O. Menassa

IMPERFECT LOVE

A grimace of centuries left empty,
nautical sailing between roses, blue skies and golden rivers. Under the sheet

mist permeating
cold was like a fish without gills, mouth
with black jacket, with a mouth
torn lips,
open to my bones,
with the rhythmic beat of the sun and moon. Lips

cut to the verb,
wanted to mourn that I loved about the last
Dry Rock the Universe,
I wanted to scream with the warm and strong voice of the man chosen
and nervous, solitary, pendulous, like a cloud
orphaned and lost, I was not able
.

already lost once we
on the side of our mouths,
held out my arms to reach your wings,
between jealousy and sins,
our sex to the four winds,
stopped to death. I


we dive in the broken light of our eyes,
to travel through your veins
luminosity
my kisses and my hands shake.

And in this game cheat
sometimes I wonder:
is it not more than a fish man?

PRADA VICENTE GÓMEZ

Voice of delirium. Miguel O.
Menassa
SHARP STRENGTHS


Warriors carved in sharp strengths, its walls captivate

chained bodies

opening on the ground in a blue flight. Syllables


agile outright death to the shadow

plotted in the air the sound of a belly open

dawn in flight. Giran

inaccurate ways.

A chest, almost a woman, the wound
ghosts howl in the night
gray
wears powder
strokes that are imprecise guess

in violet flesh wound. KNIGHT
SOLEDAD CASTRO

to find in this movement. Miguel O. Menassa

THE OTHER SIDE

Blue
old songs live in the caves echoing in your chest.
did not want to miss the painter chose to tell
through drums
with silent ears. That


so trivial and infinite distance,
those clouds in the shape of gargoyles look
invented by your hunger brought news

Wasteland,
worked hard for nothing, to say nothing of other
but you, you hung
lumps in the foliage of the jungle and waited
patient
immovable to the fruit of his lyrics soak
Lack
.
boldly shouted to anyone who listens to
of all, the poem revolve
Towards the hope that death,
still in a waiting room,
let you savor the gentle flight of those leaves.

FRANCISCO JAVIER RUEDA DIAGO See how other row. Miguel O.
Menassa
Desli UNDER MY TONGUE OF YOUR FOOTSTEPS

A Vicente Aleixandre

blind at night where blood
spy fever reigns another sky
verses are shaped body ankles

truncated without noticing that the moon just grazes my moaning

without further north
lips
quietly crossed your dawn is a sharp tip pen
softness is conducive to dreams where some eyelids
foam does not breathe quietly
because everything wants to be in a snow
you still cry

RZANY PIOTR words for desire. Miguel O. Menassa

THE EYE OF THE DAMNED

looked at the condemned the path of his destiny, his remaining

outlined only a few memories as a bat
lost and disoriented.

He knew the world was condemned
world and the heart that loved great flying bird
had to win without great battles
because his time was the time of the human.

was convicted in his eyes the pupils a huge,
kind, where there was no room for yesterday.
was sitting on the edge of a fountain, plaza
and saw the children running.

He rubbed his eyes.
exile was a brand of rebellion and hatred. He looked in the mirror
silhouette
split in two like the broken syllables of his name.

The offender does not believe in anything.
looking for a word to him, a calm voice,
the aroma of a warm
metaphor that opened my eyes at night.
tight-lipped, tight
stroked the bare skin radiance
and wrote a verse for nobody. MONICA LOPEZ

BORDÓN

human passion. Miguel O.
Menassa
sadness in LA MIRADA


I missed a lump in her throat,
in clockwise with the wild animals that roam
hours or flint oblique eyes,
when rumors of innocent voices make the words
knives to amputate
imploring hands.

Again
a broken word and the turmoil in the chest, knocking
veins with a pop sadness when I shakes
against steel tongue hurts,
and nailed in every thousand pins
belly like arrows poisoned
when embracing simulates skin against skin. Again

step aside to face
Ladin and the look of fire that melts the way
and puts pebbles in bare feet.

I swear, never kiss a rose
Why lie when you display its fragrance, when it invades my side
color and life,
and then withers and drops its petals dead
And I'm crying with thorns between the toes.

ORTIGOSA CARMEN MARTÍN