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THE ROBBINS - THE MUSICAL WONDER OF HONDURAS IN LATIN AMERICA Country Gospel


The time passed since my last post, I see and I can not believe, but this time not in vain, I've been working hard on a project that I absorbed many hours, days and months. Here are the results of such research, a new disc for lovers of the glorious rhythms of yesterday and for Hondurans the realization at last of a material definitive one (if not the most ...) of the most influential bands the music scene in Honduras and neighboring countries, THE ROBBINS . Originally from Ceiba , form in this magnificent coastal town in 1967 to leave in the collective memory of a Honduran musical legacy that even today continues. Together with my friend
Eduardo " Guayo " Cedeño guitarist and leader of this iconic band could materialize in a record for the label Electro Harmonix of Spain all the recordings and photographic THE ROBBINS , arduous task of gathering and selection Guayo file.
Once again I have the pleasure of presenting a band more to remember, and with all the relevant protocols.
Thanks to many people who helped and supported me in this way, but especially Iñigo and the whole family Munster Records who gave me the incredible experience of working with them, thanks again, as this could never be without your adoration and respect for Latin music.

Driver For Samson R10s Mic

Nonsense

remember moments in my house

when houses were homes

remember details and smells

my mother in the kitchen stove taming

stewing workmanship,

for my father came to win

of their daily business

and wanted quench in the table.

remember playing in the street

when the streets were free

remember details and flavors

blood on my knees hurt and pain

curing with saliva,

shared the same

joining lips with the girl embarrassed

believed in love.

Girl now my wife says he

and I can not remember,
who claims to be mother of my children
and not recall it ...

Women and children

details, smells and tastes

Street home and present

who refuse to be remember in my mind,

arising as deciduous

my trunk dry and withered branches

lost on the ground, forgotten.

Only what remains in my root

memory, underground, hence

and went back there.

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immemorial

To see what to do
look better or
to hear what he has to hear

better to smell or hear what's that smell better
or smell
to play you have to play better or

play to enjoy what there is to savor
better or taste.

order not to feel, better write
although no one receives my nonsense.

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What has been done ... the need to do from Garage Gym to CrossFit XF.

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quagmire THE NEW TIMES

in the quagmire of the new times we wallow
whole flock
least
mud men cursed constantly throwing mud
us slyly, brazenly

in mechanical ritual as everything in this quagmire
new
times where we remove all the year
between negligence, ignorance and mud
not daring to avoid
not even imagine him as the lumpy mud

remains occluded our eyes, our mouth and ears

senses there is no horizon or
in the quagmire of the new era where the doctrine is
hurting
and crazy almost all
aspiration is to become a man to constantly throwing mud mud
maliciously
, boldly
until a full moon night ideas
finally becomes
leave honest fear and madness and move
dignity in
silver bullet to kill this pack that still exists in the mud
new
times where reality is delusion and bone

just protect fragile clay kaolin
souls doomed to a fate murky
where every last hope before thrive

know your purpose.

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2010

good year.

During the event, the yellow mark will try to cover the gaps opened last year 2009. To complete the 365 poems (one per day) should be left to write "forgotten." conditions of this self-writing workshop in poetry have been tough, but there is nothing impossible for the yellow mark! AH AH AH

the moment, if clickais entries in the 12 months of 2009 you can read much of the 365 poems. Once all are in print are notified with a new entry.

Until then, I do not lose sight ...

the yellow mark.