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Top Keyword 2008: Britney Spears, Obama


According to Reuters
Barack Obama's victory has caused an enormous increase in research in his name on yahoo, but the keyword is always top of Britney Spears.

then Britney Spears is the first keyword followed by World Wrestling Entertainment and Obama, says Yahoo.

Among the most searched keywords emerge as well:
Miley Cyrus Jessica Alba
RuneScape

Japanese Naruto manga cartoon
Lindsay Lohan Angelina Jolie
American Idol.

GOOD search all = D

How To Get Through The Blanket Of Meido

My father


man who is not among the living, but living among them ...

said to me: look for your roots ...


and I listen suspended the wind and the thousand words
that broke out in silence.
decided green lights brighten
in a drop in the air that vibrates
drawn from the sun and the dust emanates. Earth ...
misty land, rich soil.
wheat, vineyards, olive trees ... between plants
(a sense of silent love, yet in that land


words have roots that gave life and gave death
and recall, two steps from the soul
stumbled,
finding myself unconscious) in

a soft dream ...

(where the hands had finished their tour
and fields, stealing that color of rust, the sun
languid Brush their own things,
before the break,
clothes were for a photograph)

postcard ... ...
and the heart beats to remember the dream light and heavy
;

garden invisible calligraphy
around what appears to be a multifaceted foliage
secret hermit who, today, I am, which gives
drop by drop, and vanishes for so little. And as the land


play the voices of the earth,
fertile land and fertile that I ate a handful
enough to be worn by its scent.

Spiga born again, who will include light a

my strength and will satisfy those who recognize my fruit.

Franca



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currents


The rain falls and piously
that lava flows.
Scrolls face diluted
hands and opaque fluid.
all wet.
Bagna and remove.
am the rain, blind
run ... and I escape.
Smooth is the shadow of yesterday,
nothing remains of my soul liquid.
There are perimeters that retain,
no signs that the profile picture ... and exhausted
slide, stumble
to return

and drown in my mother's water,
as a shadow in the shadows.

The existence evaporates
thought and follows me everywhere, is the same essence. Rend
things their secret
and I wonder if the soul is rampant. So I pay for my time
illusory.

The wind caresses the earth with light footsteps,

blows and disrupts what little power that is in a soft wind.
creep leaves on the pavement, excessive noise

procuring a real strength of not belonging.
E 'noise that decides the autumn, and vulgar
one of the sheets that segment over time, as if a prediction
me through the bones.
I shudder at the thought.

Franca



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The only force .. .. The mother


is in the words of a dream, also,
fragile and goes freely, runs away;
gurgles as water, without a precise route.
The only strength is in the words of the aurora stellar
in the womb, greedy for life, liberty
by sliding thin and underground
be worth telling the pain to exist, or dissect
traces of encounters that leave voids and
will have the color of a white child
or brightness dimmed and filtered.
Their only strength is in
that white space between the lines that took the life sucking
the breasts of thought,
which tells the child, and her tears, she can not forgive

the ridiculous earnestness of the adult.
That same child who wakes up transformed into a sinister toy

and, inevitably, will go to pieces.

The only strength is in those words to outline a melancholy
nameless, faceless.

words are counted in a mournful sense of vertigo,
dramatic story told and staged
in the vast theater of consciousness, in
swinging sounds of happiness and despair
of darkness and solitude;
words will continue to sell,
starry nights, water
stream ... as always ...
aromas and flavors. The only strength is

in words, because they get lost and never lost
,
streets deserted as long soliloquies,
inaccessible looks distracted;
last refuge. In the words
you call,
pretending to be a great poet,
like the child who can not play yet, but
sits at the piano and imitate the great concert pianist, playing the part of rock
purity, vehement in
reveals profanity the spirit and then disappear or be
;
in the words get lost ...
observe and tell of a jewel box
closed by impenetrable silence of the body
dumb things.
The only strength is in the words that invade

like ocean waves and swell, impure and tattered
worn as a dress;
words, the essence of shame, infamy,
dreams and sleepless nights, thoughts and wrinkles,
suspected outbreaks hate and love;
words, the lights of a night that welcomes
, reconciles and consoles;
measure of time and space
(neither time nor space exist to indicate the traveler
intruder, ladies and
stranger on earth, ladies and foreign
of a shattered world where they

prophetic voices sound like the murmur of a dull and desperate humanity)
but to us, warriors from the shiny armor,
lovers in love
that listens this chaos of voices,
poets is clear to us that words do not run away, and if they coincide
, acquire power and strength.

Franca



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Light Grey Suit Abd Purple Shirt

the Index


buried in a suitcase I
dignity, white shroud of my soul ...
the key in his pocket a book ever written, and I went
for a self-imposed exile ...

I traveled in the direction of my journey,
thinking of nothing, contemplating nothing,
taking refuge in the wonderful essence of silence
... I suspect nothing ...

I enjoyed the time in depth look at the empty
, stand poised and
feel pain in the back, giving way to the inevitable
thoughts, uncontrollable
the birth of ideas.

I traveled in the direction of my journey,
made of missed opportunities in the property, with disheartening
sought solitude,
desired, feared,
made of memories, assumptions, contradictions ...

isolating themselves in an infinite tolerance, in
perpetual flight.

Sometimes, I have digressed,
the suitcase locked between the palms,
for fear that somehow
as a dark tunnel but-if-I
or who knows what desperate
the ocean-that-I was swallowing my few certainties
torn, wrapped with paper and
bread
swallow my dreams, dreams and eaten, frozen, petrified,
- the only ones in my possession -
- anything that has never been -

I walked to the inner rhythm of the mind,
bent by the weight of the suitcase of anxiety, choking
joy and exaltation.

A quick steps I wandered,
close in case of skin, the repellent
trivial occasions.

Franca



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Amazon


perfect embodiment of a femme fatale?
natural or revolutionary?
her face and sharp piercing
and blond hair, long-legged white


drag its charm in its pace.
Women dominatrix-Amazon-
(maybe you would say "masculine")
pays the price in solitude.
prefers, with his sublime voice and deep,
celebrate the death that occurred,

that show the beauty and enigmatic as the only spectator
has its blind
its devastating killer / detractor.
Just the same man who becomes a witness to such beauty

with the thrill that
will travel back to see them in the inadvertently

powder on the lashes and hair ash.

Franca



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When times are


When the eyes can no longer enjoy
of dust rolling through the branches, if
morissimo together, my love, our souls through
, as real roots, the belly of the earth in search of
shadows that mark the time,
the discovery of silence, wanting to listen, speak more of the many arms

eager to anything that would leave;

my love, if morissimo together,
for our trip, the sea
raise huge splash;
our souls would get,
rage gray-water, thin nostrils
torpor to remember the past, so that their memory becomes
power and strength to ruffle the shore , or to reach
finally
as two grains of sand, the abyss.

My love, if morissimo together
for us, angry clouds cross the sky and wakes
flash as fireworks
our souls would travel like drops of rain, lightning preceded
;
auburn on streets, at sunset ,
would reach a stream that still secret
sings well and sensitive melodies
between the gravel bottom,
still talking on the banks,
breathed through the leaves of the poplar;

if morissimo together, my love,
kind would be the stars, and clear. Our souls will listen

the heart of memory, as
winking sparks
and dress, a veil of special light, the dark fierce
of the night, or may be witnesses to

painful and hasty goodbyes, but then they would know
how to manipulate time.

My love, if morissimo together for us
white flakes form a soft opening,
would fall but our souls, like white feathers on
Snow
without leaving any trace of passage. To delete
nightmares and fears on the nights of the living,
to remove, with a strong chemistry,
the depth of the minds,
larvae transfigured images,
you join our forces with those of the world

and we are always united, my love,
for them that were there.

If I knew that I need to submit only one appointment, my love,
tear a flight by a spire. Not
says Ali.
Lost and desperate, as
who no longer control what happens in free fall
uncover the earth,
through the arches to keep it return.
even poetry, although it is amazing and
accomplice
I swear,
would have no effect, my love.

Franca



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Fragility


Adelda
A mother (not to forget) So many times I sang

dawn

without ever witnessed the birth of the sun.
The clock of the lane marks the minutes, with shots
dried
... in the silence, echoing the sound ...

For me courage, and divert dark thoughts, I look

frenzy that comes after a sleepless night, I know
that vision of indescribable beauty,
but I never lived,
and you, my seventy-three reasons not to sleep ,
with an elongated body in a hospital bed, you toss
, murmuring incomprehensible words:
time travel,
in your past that I do not know.
I look at you with tenderness and apprehension.
's inevitable that my eyes
add other stars at night.
The hours stretched its tentacles beyond measure
and fall into a state of perpetual eve
(I can not see beyond the black padding that surrounds
the entire lane
... the clock breaks the silence with three strokes
so slow as to seem inaccessible to each other ... I wonder if
behind the eyelids,
frenzied flapping,
a horse, the reins loose, chasing the rainbow
or the storm, if
raises his eyes to heaven or rebelling
lies in agony;
will sell your dark to light?
... and I seem to hear a whinny
pierce the vault of heaven ...) or I
dominates the memory of the day after the party
and I wonder if, as before,
the sum of beams of light filter between
from the clouds split open like wounds will form even if
the cone of rays that
mo 'of cornucopia, drooling hybrid colors,
embraced the island, there, in skiing;
and if there will be the light rain that started

from the sea in the mornings of clear days.
pierces the clouds, life answers,
and imperious is the desire of
still suffer the usual words of welcome:
"your arrival brings the nice weather," you told me on the balcony overlooking
filled with geraniums, as I mentioned the
your islands,
a crown of the same gulf
is now ready to be colored
the explosion of another sunrise, and

calls them by name ... "so clear close've never seen "
and told me it was almost an initiation rite to my visits ...
(I have not found any explanation for the occurrence of those wonderful days on time, as if the secret got out a schedule for our meetings)
The dawn is near, and the mist clears its thickness,
a range of subtle colors form the essence, time
vibrant and feathery,
between past and future.
dawn will soon be beautiful, and I
you the gift, but now
is opened up in the dawn sky,
abandoning the secret network of night images
through shimmering visions of truth.
remember
yesterday and the day before yesterday it rained incessantly.
two days there are wrinkles around your lips
(a grating that controls the rhythm of the breath, to keep it from escaping

or maybe you're annoyed by the rain
that somehow nullifies our intimate ceremony) will not cease the
and our wonder will be repeated again, because we want to, because I want
;
from the east and the glow of rebirth
already fills the sky.
Dress explicit calls to create resonance and echoes a new day, and slowly opens
my pain, while
expect to expand the circles in the water,
that a network of spider capture the green foam,
that the sky turns pink
... as it is written, and I've read ...
but the hills hide a show unsuspected, unexpected, and wonderful
exploding orange disc burning

prelude to his plan of life and
... I need this message for you and me.
The day of doubt, request fierce
the unanswered question,
one of the many days when the desire fades, does not recur.
not travel more in the cases unresolved,
life in servitude to the totalitarian and mistress.
for not wanting this,
suffered through clenched teeth,
on the road already traveled gentle souls you leave,
hours of secret images
memories ... I listen to your heavy breathing ... and what I
is not enough to erase the night
because my fickle mood as the horizon of thought
rusty shadows that
expand, advance, to overwhelm

absorb the fluffy whiteness of the moon on the horizon yet.
Life is old and tired.
E, pensive and anxious, control your sleep,
you're not a stranger, the man I love begotten
... and I have no power to give relief to you that I
accettasti
unconditionally ... I just dawn hope to dye my eyes
of who looks at you lovingly.

Franca



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mold in the blog ... let music!

Hello everyone ... but all Who? ahahah cmq hello! Before turning to the case
internet are finished in my blog ... I smelled rot, smell bad you feel if you leave a tuna omelette beto 2 weeks outdoors ... and then I decided to revive (trusted) environment ...
From now seriously to begin with I put a video of my favorite band noise:
ALTER BRIDGE - BEFORE TOMORROW COMES:



Buonaaa

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The short distance


With your life like blotting paper,
regurgitant of experience, acceptance,
as the setting sun, that the past is showing you away shoulders.
building, ... the sand filter through your fingers almost completely
... you know that your palms, now hold the vacuum.
faded is the footage ... ... ...
firm is turning that swirled in the past.
You know that the twilight melts color,
spreading in the water that the sun kisses,
and instead, we deluded us into the dock,
was waiting to see, for her fall,
a blaze of crimson foam,
and then, still an open wound and bleeding.
But the sea gently blushes slightly, shyly,
and no wind, and no flights,
discreet is the vision in its sublime beauty.
In you is the excitement of the day that
languid off.
I kneel, I bow to your wisdom to look
vague,
to your wrinkles.
Should not I?
but the glare of the end of the day can be done without fear
free
comments to an original act, so
is veiled, eyes curious, by the dim light of early evening

(could be the act of bending to pick up a pebble
rare or else
that day the sand hides his brilliance).
I feel a subtle thought that
passing through the eye of a needle
not to let it go completely, you
the uttermost hanger,
his hands trembling.
seems to be the common thread to the fates. I
leaf already fragile, I count the days,
no longer sure of my fate, with a shudder ...
urgent heart,
but without a cry of rebellion ...
and, a few at the top rung, however, to

a short distance,

wait ... you mean the dizzying
you who are not worth some more, I
I step on your same path, only a short distance



... In me brooding, overbearing,
force drawing from my memory unlivable,
an impossible desire to escape.

Just to put a white image
peace between demons and gods of memory.

Franca



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The theater of life


I, birth, theatrical aspect
invited to my castle, I look
a news event. Cyrano
scenes on the set, the bank
may seem a strong stage presence
vacuum
impose silence of the night.
The mirror shows the deformity and the mother is silent
,
seems to have been attracted by the naked
that emerges
pending a review ... and the joker
salutes, making
twice peeps ...
In this comedy, lunge
my shots with a sweet style, but effective. It has no color splendor
the dance of light, taking the ball miraculously
life?
If not returned to my profile, my edges
the magnificent colors of yesterday ...
if a hand does not redraw with speed and skill, the contours
and it blurs the bright yellow
today ... ... I



the lights go out and I'll read on his knees every scene, begging forgiveness for a monologue

too studied.
There are no other characters.

Franca



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The Voice of Tomorrow rain


Besides the rain, as well as the buildings shielded from the water, I see you lying
to think, to avoid mechanically

or suffering, the cheating mind,
to create new and subtle
, as foil, cut, penetrate, make it bleed
your young soul.

Far, I imagine you lying,
urgent research that does not reach the rest

searched for holes in the strangest of the mind. Raise your
just sand digging.

And as he invokes the soul with pain,
you are unable to identify the source of that voice
begging to give it a name ... and chasing eco
.

hidden among the gorges of the mountain, like a glider
crazy,
in the backwash of the current
frenetic pirouettes.
Resume lost share, and then defeat
you recline.

And I, far away, beyond the rain, I see you.

Franca



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In the words of the gestures, colors
the rhythm of the dance

trying to discover and go beyond the mystery,
not lift up carpets beaten by time.
on earth dust, footprints reveal
known
abandoned and then rediscovered.
will be the memory
lullaby to accompany this cleansing of the soul.
not omit anything
every gift that life has given me
will be filed, associated with a name that I thought
forgotten.
And history will repeat itself, more vivid than ever. From dawn
Metro and urges her weeping
the wind and the rain drops

kiss the sea that became immersed in it.

stray tears unnecessary
(I'll be close to final yield,
time that can not be ignored).
E '(this order) the last stage.
Both my sign, my ode to life
idea of \u200b\u200bdeath.

Franca



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The Tarnished Silver


The sad-eyed man
watch the full moon to the zoo and sets
the woman who has seen behind bars.
His cry in the mist ef eardrums.
There are no survivors to Aquavilla,
only cardboard noses.
The Visitor has no distinguishing marks on his face ...
bear is known even to the laundress;
the shadow on the chin makes it ridiculous and evil.
has no age, hunting the shadow from his face to no avail,
would throw it at the bottom of the well, but falls
him in death, are his thoughts and ...
reviews the woman in the land of the shadow.
The woman who lived twice his loves,
who fell asleep in the woods, and woke up
moving your hands through the leaves and grass.
She magically mysterious
cheating, lover, too loved the naive

lost by his own heart, and his own, curse. A heart
convinced that rest in a watery grave,
why can not swim and do not want to learn ... and hear the victim, while
sighs in a final tragic ballad.
He knows that if you fall, you get up again by touching the ground and began to fly.
The dream has no age ... the vessels flying the woman sees them again.
Will this be the reason for not did not learn to swim?
... you can hold on to them ...
But that night, ultimately, to float face up,
for one last kiss to the moon.

Franca



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The chant


Drops of solitude on the face, hands held far
for misunderstanding, barefoot, chase,
between red hot sand, the remnants of the rocks
childhood. Thoughts
discounted sink
nell'orma freshly dug, where the sea lay

or scratch, retreating wave.
eyes fixed on the water, counting the rings if ...
covering the toes past, future ... galling,
... and if there will be.
Cancellation, conspiracy ... yield.
swallow hair stuck in the wind you,
from that bitter smile everywhere I look, my dream
you stupid today. I know that
runs through my head in the sky, but the point
eyes to count the rings to me.
scarring my dreams with nail lacquer,
no blood flows through the veins, but a search
of boiling water,
to wake the heart to life.
Absence, presence and words are?
Loneliness, dryness can be counted.
coloring as a nun in extreme unction,
wax eyes, thick lips, and carmine
not abused for virginity
rages the idea of \u200b\u200ba fine story.
It 's time to invent, devise a plot, which has not
odor trails,
and words appearing,
or remain faithful to the principles ...
For the choice, I repeat a child spiel: "... anghingò ..."
not remember, is tremendous:
"... three owls on the dresser ..." I try.
We need someone in the face,
make me a mirror. Fallback
hands who tried in a vacuum.

One step out of nowhere, a weary step out of nothing.

Franca



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Porca to Porca

Guys I fear, is insect against a blog (why do i blog? write online because ?)... Guest experts say that the blog leads to prostitution, is a horrible online game, the blog you do because you can not go to reality ... Mamma mia
are terrified, how?
I will close this blog, I'm afraid! I do not want to end up in street prostitution. Do you also so you never know ...
I just hope this movie does not translate into English, would be another good impression of shit for Italy after the rubbish and other stories ... Now
not watch even for sleep.
LONG LIVE IGNORANCE!

Buonaaaaaa

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Elio e le Storie Tese - Parco Sempione

time did the bongos to avenge the background africa


[...] Stop with 'sti bongos, we're not in Africa.
wears his hair long, but you need to practice.
're always out of time, so I will kill the Africa
What
too many problems but certainly not the rhythm. [...]

It 'wonderful!!

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"- Cagliari Pirri Terramaini" Running day

Hello,
after a day of study, we wanted a nice corsettina. Here is the GPS track recorded with my cell N73 and Nokia Sports Tracker .
google map is interactive (you can move and zommare). The route was done 2 times and if you click view statistics. I state that is about a month and have not run out of practice. = D to the next, buonaaa


View Larger Map

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02/11/2008 The angle of the documentary: The BetoPongo



BetoPongo The (scientific name: BetoPongo pygmaeus Abel) is the rarest of the two extant species of orangutan. They live on the island of Stigazzi and orangutans are the smallest in the world.

The feature that differs from other orangutans is the pronunciation of a word during the months of unusual pairing: "GOOD". (Download the audio file)

Compared to Sumatran orangutans are more frugivorous and insectivorous. Females spend more time than those of Borneo in social activities (crastulare).

The conservation status of species is estimated based on the critical criteria of the IUCN Red List. It is believed that in 2002 they remained about 7 strupiausu specimens.

Kingdom: Animalia Phylum
:
Chordata Class: Mammalia
superorder:
Euarchontoglires (clade): Euarchonta
Order: Primates
Suborder: Haplorrhini Infraorder
: Simiiformes
Parvordine:
Catarrhini Superfamily: Hominoidea
Family: Hominidae Subfamily
: Ponginae
Genre:
Pongo Species: Beto P. abelia

good at all.

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What do you know


What do you know, the lost tracks,
if you have not expected, servile, dusting
with the sleeve that only the chair of ash
awe did it.

What do you know, of looking down a mirror
implantation of black marble;
of moans when someone dared to impress.
I think I understand ... but what do you know, dell'ardito
that swelled the neck of words
without courage,

who could not leave the little heart that you know ...


of legs and feet locked together
that for too long kept
that posture;
of arms to hide the chest and
long skirts, sweaters
fat and hair.

In your eyes is the image of stone

that a strong will turned
in thirst.

In its place, you can not see, and impresses the beholder
odor
these walls, smells that are moving up
to reach the hearts and eyes aghast at the ceiling. Wonder
uncontrollable vivid memories
hands, the skin ages.

Franca


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The omelette tuna Beto

Corner recipe crazy today takes you to discover the mythical "fried tuna beto"

- tuna possibly Burdo (avoid Riom, Palmer or tuna insurmountable) Burdo so that you do not even cut with a log ... uh breadstick!
- ew many. Old chicken.
- sfoddata
a pan - a a kitchen stove gas (woe to you if you use electric stove or microwave)
- salt
-
time to lose - like

User

- take the launch out into the pan and the eggs strong! Leaving the peel
- remove the skin of the ew beaten
- fry for 23 seconds with a little olive oil prostitute (not extra virgin)
- throw a thing of tuna after the oil had drained
- fry for other 45 hours
- put in the pot and try to eat

The result:

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The lighter mouse


material you need and instructions:
- take a lighter
- a Portable
- a wiimote
- connect via bluetooth as instructed chung lee
- download the program from the site Wiimote Whiteboard Chung Lee: http://www.cs.cmu.edu/ ~ johnny
/ projects / wii /
- a little 'patience if at first you do not act as a shit

GO TO THE SITE OF LEE CHUNG: http : / / www.cs.cmu.edu/ ~ johnny / projects / wii /

And you also say: "Thank Chung Lee, you are great =)"