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Portraits Into Dreams

Lovely curved lady

Young, dark, soft

Lips of delicious touch


Artisan Guaraní molds

Art-life from basic mud

Expression writhing from fingers


The sun seems, within

White rolls of cloud

Singing silent goldenness


O let the Light rise above Great Wars,

Stories that grind the brain

Panteón de los Héroes in blackness


Hideous the tombs there

Solemnity over ghastly error

As with Britain`s false glories


Death death black corpse

Wonderful Victory killing idiots:

Who had the best guns? (baby)


Just shoot into the crowd, yeah!

Kill a few outright, best,

Scares the others


No! rude tongue sticks out

Against Alf Garnet, Thatcher,

Fathers in lost brain cells


No! rude tongue sticks out

Against Bush, brute brothers, any yob

Still thinking thus


I hate those who always turn

To War to solve problems:

Yet I no pacifist am.


No!  I`ll kick any bastard

Who tries to rape a girl

Within my street-sight!


Maybe I`ll die, no problem there

But no War to satisfy Bush nor Blair;

No War, no War, no War.


Preferable is the world of art,

Imagination`s mighty fantasies

Connecting Truth to Reality;


Don`t try to deceive me more!

Art has violence as part of its

Breathing, but not real war.


Tim Cloudsley nació Cambridge, Inglaterra. Es sociologo, escritor y poeta. Trabajó como profesor en la Escuela de Idiomas, de la Universidad Industrial de Santander, Bucaramanga en el ámbito de estudios culturales y literatura.

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