History of literature is death
unless is taught by a living soul,
those unrelated to life ordinary, capable of transgress
Turned into pupils talking of things
Occurred yesterday, at the coffee brake

Alternatively, when one was in cocaine 12 days awake.


Of course not all the literature teachers
Are alike or along the image supra defined
as we speak of poets and people of literacy, 

Let us think of William Blake and wife’s theosophy,

All religions are ONE,

 The voice of one crying in the wilderness.


I can imagine his wife and himself engraving those magnificent 

images and linking them to the poor poetry of the principles,


Absolutely a voice of entanglement
Against Francis Bacon Newton and John Locke
It is clear the influence of that Trinity in the poetic genius principles, au contraire, a negative enrollment.


Putting on Hell the ground stones of his principles.

As is as will be and have been many times over history of knowledge, epistemology, etymology, doubt, irrationality, and reason.



Everybody wants to know about Verlaine and Rimbaud and imagine what did not occur. The personal and society, intangible unexpected flux.


Crazy night in front the beach and someone having a beautiful sex with two wife friends, why did she suddenly stop.


When one had more than ten known, of duty women wanting to fuck them, and then, an idiot calls me because of envy or my friend waiting in the car. Can anyone believe such an anti climax could happen? I could not be in the plane of Kaos-ordnung.


The principles of Blake are a bit like anti climaxes because,

 Really, he could have gone further, further were we suppose?

Just presumptive and he did not let the good times roll.


I am writing from my heart, intending the truth using the poetic genius.


It is another time but Blake and Mrs. Blake are great engravers and poets.


I that forgot the beginning and am near from the loose of the poetic spirit and another thing important like intelligent, attractive grew women.


I by all means declare I had no intention of writing this text whatsoever, the intention was to say more and go further.


Where are the children of mine I cannot find?


Now is easier, sadder to sing, while we are not kissing.



  • El Hombre de la Rosa

    La hermosas letras de tus versos alumbran la poesía de tu poema amigo Mera Gente...
    Yo también escribo poesía amigo mio.
    Saludos de afecto y amistad de Críspulo

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