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The hands of the 'tambu' wants to pick first,, hit, and spins high, up then fro keep the tone -drumming auditorius living and jump authority in wireless messages- sounds of society humble grand part majority on sounds of various in screams for attention to what's going on across kingdom reliable low lands Antilles protesting their miserable living at large for change suffocation hunting their masterpieces going fillgraine human beings their senses not silenced, now their rights focus on crumbs not disappear but left for alternative without their vote  against foolish domino games in act of  slicing decisions 'for me' and 'for you'  to ' a hundred thousand miles thoroughly mine' and 'you not a dime' but press hold the knots to the button hole no ones getting gold recessed from depressed God's on hold. In none so soon still one indifferently principal of House Cooperate Council sees bask full of shine living agelessly domine primordial its stage the outside Archipelago and rule of authentic foolish counting sheep.'If you can't scrape the bamboo my style, polish the ochre, feed the shark 'Multatuli' witness-abuse but n'importe qua', nostalgia insist we to windsurf those ships hover you, let drum to the  storm the weather that bumps on the ground off the ocean remembering 'Ouverture' now filming coming past with 'Tula is now but 'Pete" lest stick is the one coming down.

asyla ten holt-reserved-CURACAO 2013-March