MOVEMENT Pure

UNIVERSE OF ALL ARTS RACES AND CREEDS NEO-SURREALIST MOVEMENT. The drowning. Till now only have to let me die. To the drowning. Trot galloping with the clenched fist. Galloping by what neither I not I hate nor my soul want to, want to escape out of the world. Shelter me in infinity. Where this is not happening.

And the soul opened in my inner struggle. Today I saw enough. Men who eat children. One aberration of the man. Para que valen my prayers or your prayers? For what? And because? I am here and there passages of the worldly life that overflow me. No longer is if I am a poet.

What I am sure is that I am a human being. I don’t want jewels of the drowning. I want neither to the arrangement. I don’t have time to breathe. I am a target. I ask time to avoid falling into the abyss. Trot of the Gallop with my arms open to the cry and my horse neigh. Green meadows of fresh pastures I want for my horse. I want pure and crystal clear clean water and for my pure soul. And for my worldly justice. Divine despite the narrow sky built. I’m still at the foot of the staircase of my shortness of breath. Text art-william. 12/01/08. Poetry of the Neo surrealist revolution. Neo surrealism art-william digital magazine founder. LETTERS AND CREATIVE FORMS.