The Vulture And I

The vulture and I

If even the vultures above the Palace shit why I could not spit in front of your door? Or is it because I have less derechoque I own the top of majestic black cape and pendant crop?

Not that I am a depraved, devoid of moral standards, is that I filled with water the bocacuando think there is cooking something, and I have to give my loaded bars spit.

The bird Pastor Overview finding no more worms at the dump, waiting for the evaporation of diplomatic thoughts, eyes pop out of the head dome absorberlosy badges to pass domed shit again.

And I look with the white of my eyes, with dark blacks and them, I parecenunos angels came from the popular vote, that Pizarro's house breed and nest.



In the face of vulture are spurs her wrinkles, her alas.Su espada.Su body shield in its talons.

They are living relics, as pets desenvejecibles.Inmortal, with the mystery of having flown for the flood, doomed to bone and alargadodonde lips to invent a language not dig a human language.

Everything is different between the vulture and yo.Todos ignore us and seem like hermanos.Nadie this one knows how many times have the cuervosy shit how many times I spit on the red carpet.



Romulo Asisclo Alva, storyteller, poet, playwright and teacher in Peru. Has to his credit title like "The Invasion," "Imprisonment", "The Child of Red," "The Chosen", etc..