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The first time many things in few words
many simple, very simple things when they go through sensitivity
unique and unrepeatable in the troubadour who kept the guitar
as it seemed to have left
smile today, and tomorrow, knowing
continue with his wisdom and taste
love to know what is written in memory
was also of us, with us outright
mind the poet sang and the breeze filled metal
juice
finding words and power singing
an overwhelming love for singing and music that Russian
piano and viola Russian
dumb we are to leave the Azores
viewers who came to knowing the author's memory that follows
rising in each project and giving it to every tenth power
accurate and lucid
the sensations of feeling sticky with the flesh,
alive than ever, fortunately, wasted points automatically
mission
of repeated listening and almost from the beginning
vocal forms of the Night Journey
between eighth and intoxicating fumes
to become, really, flashlights
or spurs,
signs of water or electrical
barely whispered rants without fanfare
awkward morning the other day when we come to gather
skin surfaces with bristles
intimate feeling in the wilderness all creation
irrefutable
alive, amazing, loving and subtle
of unique tasks, transferable
turgid voice with sense of urgency
flourish at every step of the beautiful pitch that hits
air and in the gothic walls of this beautiful place
as the singing voice and repeating
, recapturing,
many things:
images, songs,
strands of pearls, sweet
content sources,
of transferable friction
pieces, intimate
volcanoes spilling over forty fools
lost on a cold night, out November
found in a cloister, warm, velvet propiciante
,
revealed with the simplicity of a melody, a scratch
delightful
rope or Ivory pianissimo
desperate today, who attended the party who recovered the stones
simple of a street or the endless
know / taste
beat the other one,
luggage is not just a skin
ours, shared overwhelming
wound of a hawk that was left owing us
the song of ours,
my song is not just a chant
upright, and moving
nothing like a night program
nothing like having a spear's
courtesy, for a weight change
the renewed enthusiasm to attend a tribute in memoriam
in cordiam
excelsis in perpetual devotion
the songs that brought us from that first album
gray (on the cover)
gave us the singer
and white handkerchief and his work
porters at the time, engrossed
of rocks in the early febrile
does what? thirty years, nearly forty,
if we do
accounts of what they left
details in the story of a love
was drawn on the face of a message on a napkin
a very clear notion of having
found peace backwaters and
is the angry voice of Buenos Aires,
or profundiudad, cave, bca
a flavor that could touch
lyric or free time on our
the
up now that we discover
costs a little less or a little more
as sketches and attempts
as avatars as lucideces
as forests and beaches and backwaters
as ointments for healing, in situ, the fickle
, back again,
love
good taste of many things gives us a Margarita
Martial
their accomplices and their harmonics cronies contlapaches,
lyric (huge)
reporters that, a cappella, and embroidered with broken bits
unity,
plotless yet, so many poems found
point along the way
on ropes or the fret cover
unamadera
of water, burning in sensitivity;
or stones soaked in nectar and fine recalcitrant
What we can give, or cause
,
simple human voice in a groove
black or platinum
continuity lightning
to leave us only with the music
percussive, winged, the ebony sensitive
a look interlaced, burning,
grasped, the continuity of a body,
or carnal embodiment of hugs
not let the joy is over
Thanks, Margie
Thanks, Marcial
With sensitivity and self-absorption
question runs of notes and meters,
the strings, vocals and fibrous
embodiments the animal is touched,
who hit that materialize,
on fire, liquid divine, Ynada
ragweed in the end more than a night
intimate
that only the priests, and his friends knew
viewers before anyone else, before the rest
world
known song
is the least of
or more
if the whispers pour
the certainty tremendĂsima
that what we intuit
can be song or melody
or syncopated grunts
drawings caught the sensitivity
to free fall
in the throat
involved with
life voices
playing
nearly always live
with pen
fingernail
with abysmal force
of torrents
of inspiration
findings
a night
was interminable
and morning
appeared
memory
continuity
remember
the automatic jurisdiction of a muscle
red string, to be exact, in the cavity
accompanying strong, fit, in the lungs
in the bowels of a sovereign child
smiling head
vast with enormous sensble
us
from us
speed appeared sumptuous stone surround us back
reflux, image,
our most expensive, inaccessible,
forcefulness, sinuous
KNOW / TASTE
that's the key, namely to another, knowing the other, to know another, rediscover and take it for what feels settled tongue enardcece all other organs, all other cavities, musings, with hilarious and enveloping sweetness of honey absorbed and lustful bite the divine fruit of the flesh
the forced movement of the nut, which includes in its flavor, refreshing strength of something they know and feel
worked for the enjoyment sweet, fruity texture, feverish luck: what we can deliver from the tree height, a red, round promise, that we enjoy, or break dentarura
firm and indecent and, ultimately,
sleepy calm of those moments that just retrieves the rhythm, breathing, composure: the final silence, the reposode instruments, smiling placidly
FEDERICO GARCIA, 13 to 14 November 2009
II
Some names of some songs, that here I am: Guts, No Glory, the fact is we, Let Me Take The Sadness, The Deep De Tu Boca, Streetwise, Luz, I would open the chest, some call it Love, Terra Firma, talking about the children
and more, finally, it, on it, nothing else about him
http: / / www.sacm.org.mx/archivos/biografias.asp?txtSocio=18560
http://www.lastfm.es/music/Marcial+Alejandro/+videos/+1-3vE0OBNsrKE
Marcial was very important in my career. I was very excited about these concerts, I thought another song or give me some unpublished. As we looked when he died on March 22 and did not want to stop them, now in memoriam, because I love his music. It was always in independent music, was a great fighter and a great poet, "he said.
Marcial recalled he met Alexander in 1973, on the rocks. Heard his music and liked it. He gave a couple of songs which were then four and so increased.
"I think Marcial made me recognize my voice. For a long time I sang songs in English, Portuguese, was a constant experimentation in search a code. When I met him I felt his music was what I needed to sing, my language was just what I wanted as a performer to make a definition "he said.
http://www.cnca.gob.mx/sala_prensa_detalle.php?id=2457
the sidelines. La Jornada, or for that matter, any other media, did not account for the explosion which contained soul to the conclusion by many years walking, singing, or pleasant memory, faithful, loving, the troubadour who died in March. It was important to the closure of the celebrations for the 45th anniversary of the race. Some things are simple, they do not seem to matter, even for those clamoring and require no or less weight to the culture where the food of the soul begins, perhaps in a guild that is able to enjoy a concert by the pleasure to feel and taste the fullness of a career, a taste for simple things. Marcial Alejandro was not Michael Jackson.
