I owe too much in life !

click to search I don't know I owe too much in life to my children, my wife and also my family even my societies, very big owe to God. Yes because there are much things that I didn't accomplish yet till my time comes, much sins and too much unpaid moral obligations, in debt of gratitude to life ...I thought, will able pay all if I've much money, but it seems not possible ...now it is my main obsession ; I pray hard and think hard and wish God the almighty give me chances and more time ...and that's why I am (also as board member of Catholic brotherhood community) expecting any donation which I'll distribute to the most need peoples ; can be sent through alert pay, e-gold or pay pal. Very sorry and thank you in advance.


justinus

http://www.e-gold.com/e-gold.asp?cid=3075014

-----------------------------------------

See it's very interesting :Zeitgeist - The Movie : revealed much things behind religion, terrorism, and of course politics, quoted some experts opinions ... but please do not take anything for granted ........
------------------------------------
*And the newest ninja action (LOL) ha...ha..ha.....
Urban Ninja !!
------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------
POET - Federico Garcia Lorca

Landscape of a Vomiting Multitude

The fat lady came out first,
tearing out roots and moistening drumskins.
The fat lady
who turns dying octopuses inside out.
The fat lady, the moon's antagonist,
was running through the streets and deserted buildings
and leaving tiny skulls of pigeons in the corners
and stirring up the furies of the last centuries' feasts
and summoning the demon of bread through the sky's clean-swept hills
and filtering a longing for light into subterranean tunnels.
The graveyards, yes the graveyards
and the sorrow of the kitchens buried in sand,
the dead, pheasants and apples of another era,
pushing it into our throat.

There were murmuring from the jungle of vomit
with the empty women, with hot wax children,
with fermented trees and tireless waiters
who serve platters of salt beneath harps of saliva.
There's no other way, my son, vomit! There's no other way.
It's not the vomit of hussars on the breasts of their whores,
nor the vomit of cats that inadvertently swallowed frogs,
but the dead who scratch with clay hands
on flint gates where clouds and desserts decay.

The fat lady came first
with the crowds from the ships, taverns, and parks.
Vomit was delicately shaking its drums
among a few little girls of blood
who were begging the moon for protection.
Who could imagine my sadness?
The look on my face was mine, but now isn't me,
the naked look on my face, trembling for alcohol
and launching incredible ships
through the anemones of the piers.
I protect myself with this look
that flows from waves where no dawn would go,
I, poet without arms, lost
in the vomiting multitude,
with no effusive horse to shear
the thick moss from my temples.

The fat lady went first
and the crowds kept looking for pharmacies
where the bitter tropics could be found.
Only when a flag went up and the first dogs arrived
did the entire city rush to the railings of the boardwalk.