Basquiat Featuring Atreyu

Engel Atreyu Featuring Jean Michel Basquiat - Selfportrait Of the Artist Himself, 1982- Paris France

Past Present And Future

time is just a bomb ticking on your head

lately i spend a lot of time thinking on the evolution of the self and life. In 3 months space i've lost and won incredible things. time. Time Pushed me, in a very elegand ridden libido day to look for Moreira and tell her, by the use of Wisked Ways, That I liked her and loved her. she smiled, acted interested but uninterested, Said she Had a boyfriend and Worried because Of the story itself. on the same timeline, the other one, came to the Beaux arts, Said hello and left, just like Ilona With the Rain, just like a Fly that comes, lands on your leg, takes a shower and a poop and leaves.

that Day I Went to See My Friend Basquiat. Musee Maillol - Du Feu aux Cendres, de Picasso à Basquiat- It Was a Honor, an expensive one, but a honor. Pictures to come soon. As usual I felt Like a Jean Michel Portrait -80% Anger- seeing that time can be divi ded in love stories that are measured by the name of heartbeats on them - then, for be scientists; hertz- and their intensity (cf. mega Hertz).

I can tell I am dissapointed by time, By love and By My feelings. I knew a man that had a Weak Heart, but he is the most alive man I have ever met. I realized as usual that I have lived a lot but that We all Live differently and that Time is that little amazonic fish that goes up your piss when you pee on the river until he gets inside your P..... and .. feels cousy. Carolina Reappeared, Besa Dissapeared and Reappeared, annelaure ... Reacted and They are all Dissapearing and changing

I need to go, to go to russia, to go home, even if they told me today theres not a chance-, to be a milionnaire, to smoke black cigarrettes in white Dresses while drinking martinis,

I need To feel alive, and be def to the Clockticking of the Timebomb

Image Trivia

inspired by Germens blog from Leiden Holland " absenta Merlot y pielrojas"

answer the Questions here below and put the answer on google image, post the first result.

Where were You Born?

Santa Marta, Magdalena, Colombia, suramérika ( in the picture you have the beautiful and unclean bay of el rodadero and in the back side of the picture, the building where I lived)















Where do You live?

Paris, Ile de France, France, Europe - Praha Bohemia, Ceska Respublika ( in the picture you have some sort of Paris Make up for a Vegan Casino that I found interesting for its parisian ambient)

Name: Lucas Nicolas Giraldo Pedraza - Kolya Lautari- ( in the picture, His majesty Lucas Nicolas Giraldo Also known as the prince of Muntenia on the 17 march, the day he decided besa was Charming, while being drunk drinking a cocktail names Violeta)

Your Grandmas name: Elvira Gaviria Gaviria - Salome Bolochoc- ( in the picture, Elvira, someone that Definitely is not my grandma.; but she looks Quite romanian Too)

Favourite Dish, Lobster, Canadian or colombian pacific preferable - on the picture, a Canadian Lobster)

Favourite Drink, absynth - in the picture, some beautiful ad-

Favourite Beverage: coca cola - in the picture, the lady in red-

Favourite song; Paint it black - the Rolling stones

Favourite Aroma, Opium de yves Saint Laurent - no image Needed-

Spaghetti Ballet

Spaghetti Philosophic Way of life.

" Life is a bowl of spaghetti, All messed up, tied up and sunken into a complex sauce..
the Good thing about life - and spaghetti dishes by consequent- is that once you've eaten them all the bowl is clear"

I said that and Karim, The morrocan Arab that left the school because he said the truth smiled. He wondered what did take my mind over there wherever It was I left for. Leonore Said those Were beautiful and pretty Words, words of a Street poet, the words of a wise misunderstood prophet....

Life is a Spaghetti dish... the thing is, darling, that you are the Sauce of my dish.. and you remained poured all over the White Porcelain, like the borderline of tea, like a Wilder Wein Spot...

Life is a spaghetti dish.. I'm sick of the basquiat composition of it

Bon appetit. i'm off to Eat.

Alicia

Alicia Heroes del Silencio

alicia es siempre tan breve que ya ha terminado alicia dice que te quiere cuando ya te ha abandonado alicia expulsada al pais de las maravillas para alicia hoy es siempre todavia

For the understanding of this post I highly suggest dowloading the song and translating it if possible

The berseker Came Back/just another morning of the new routine, Waking up and drinking coffee and cigarrettes cause theres no time for a decent breakfast. Taking the Kids to school and Acting like the father they have so far away 14 streets away. the berseker Came, that morning at the school where she Came, like alicia, the prostitute to whom bunbury wrote the song, she came to be my fortune and disgrace, like an orgasm or an alcoholic peak. I just Said hi as she was all I didnt want to see...and the only thing I Dream of looking to the eyes finding myself lost in her mind...

then the shit came down as the dead roses from the funeral were brought by the wind, her best friend. She just Said we needed to talk, starting the sentence by " ecoute moi bien" not even ecoute tout simple... it was dead and I faced at death looking like shit holding a hangover and a smile of a senseless man

night came lost in tears and laughter.. her memory and fantasies about prostitute godessess and alicias....

Siamo soli, Sono solo, estamos bien

Panorama

New Images
New Imagination
New Nations

engelatreyuimag.blogspot.com

Trial

his majesty engel Atreyu Prince of Muntenia is requestiong someone to come up with a concept of template for this blog. any subject is possible ( from morality by Jenna Jameson to crime by jesus christ, from Peace in Bogota to Violence in prague)

The coolest template Will substitute the present one

Let the Games Begin

For further info engelatreyu@yahoo.com

the story of Mr. L

Mr. l woke me up one day, held from a rope tied to a sixth floor. he Was singing la brasilera, the song of escalona as I opened the window and he said hello. Mr.l was a student like me; born in the llanos Orientales de colombia. he came here to Pursue French studies and escape War as his sister that raised him lived here. he Was dissapointed by the school. now he' s a painter, an exteriors painter. now he's an illegal...and an excon.

Mr.l is a man like me like you like anyone. that came to somewhere else to look for illusions to go back. Mr l was in prison ( fleury). where he met a crazy russian that has lived more time in jail than in crime. Mr L has never killed people but he robbed, drived, solddrugs and looked for the money

I like Mr L.
He Said I was his friend,
he invited me to dinner
He bought me Dutch beer
We had a good time

Apocalyptica

It is just painful to see your favourite band Going to YOUR country and play Where you are not there to vow and Shout as the strings move.. in harmony, in Limbo, in rage in amok

I'll hope you'll be back when I'll get back

I Hope it wont be paris Where We meet

I hope to see you Someday

A honor Eicca, pettru, Max, antero, paavo

A trip To Nirvana

I need: Meredith brooks " I need a tv a car a trip o nirvana......."

I need what I dont have. I need calm I need a Supper
I need you back
I need Patience
I need Goodwill
I need godspeed
I need Money
I need Love
I need God to give me a sunshine
I need the Devil to share the martinis olive with me
I need To move on
I need Stamina
I need to Dream
- and those dreams to be true-
I need to touch your face - and your legs-
I need a Kiss
I need death to Take vacations
I need to run out of tears
I need Luck, for me and for my closest ones
I need Time

I need someone to welcome me in Barcelona for the halloween - with 3 albanians-
I need to make love in a cup of tea
I need a last minute
and a cigarrette
I need to see you sleep with a smile
I need you back

I need to flee
I need to live
I need too much

and I am not asking for everything

-come here and hold me in your arms... that's all I want-

Brigitte

Stephansplatz, Wien, Osterreich

Felipe was at that moment talking to a slovak human statue. a very fine built lady With a Beautiful smile. as for me, I was having a chat with three hungarian triplets that did breakdance and gave me cigarrettes. Then she came, with the Mexicans, old, austrian looking, with a fancy spanish accento to ask us to dinner. her name was brigitte, she wrote poetry, she fell inlove, in youth, of a colombian that she Followed to the depths of the andean Mountains. She Gave us dinner, a tour of the city, money, her adress and her trust...

she gave me a poem. a poem for you Dear. Written for me
here it goes

Für Lucas

Mit einem möcht' ich Leben
der sonne braucht füt seine saat
und von einer blo?fü?igen gefährtin träumt,
Dem ein ENGEL erscheint.

Bauer, Dein Land ist Stachelig!
Mach ihr holzschuhe!

(und der Engel Sprach:

Du hast eine frau, die weirt.
von deinen vielen händen gib ihr
eine zärtliche und eine treue.)

Autriche

Miss Wolf

Pulp fiction

Maga lena Wilk (polish for Wolf) is the girl that used to have the Job I now have been Given. Magda Comes from Krakow. Magda likes To drink. Magda Has a Strong easterneuro accent. magda is built like olavia kite - hence the fact we like magda- Magda likes to drink and learns Jap at the school. Magda gives me chewing gums, Teaches me to Speak Polish as I teach her French english spanish and czech basics. Magda Is cool, she lives on the 18th district with her best friend, Joulia

Joulia is Very Pretty
Joulia is a model
but in the night....

Joulia is a Stripper.

We like Magda, We love Joulia, They said we would spend christmas in krakow - if i cant get home- Magda is a catholic, she left me the flat fully equipped and with food on it not to say she also left a thong.... pink innocent and.. Weird.

Joulia Smiles very much

Magda is nice with people and Kids. I told her we were Going out one day with agnieszka. she was happy

I miss Magda. Magda is the master
and Joulia has a clear mind and a brave spirit

Magdalena Wilk saves me from trouble... like MR wolf from Pulp fiction

Magdalena makes my Work Easier... and my life happier

dzevchona Magda.....

und wird nie von Himmel Fallen

14 RUE Vavin 75006 PARIS France

Lambrate

Milano Lambrate



Lambrate is an example of train stations architecture. If you ask me Milan is a italian version of parisian lack of humbleness. Milano Lambrate Is a place that I visited for 15 minutes in a train going to Venezia as I was escaping from France Finding Not yet existing era in italy and running away from the pain indulged by the absence - absynth- of angelica.

Yesterday I was sick. I worked as a Piano Teacher. as a Cook and as anything you can imagine- yes I also became a prostitute yesterday-. era came home With him. she said " they wrote you" and it was feli. from milan. " Lucky , here I stand without knowing where the bloody hell am I going. path to death would have been less without you, today from Milano, tomorrow From Tirana. un abraccio" I teardropped - thats the invented word of the day- and then I puked my dose of blood.

Feli left as I found the china princess on the street interrupting by so my conversation about polish catholicism with a krakowian Girl that learns japanese, goes to the church and drinks Vodka like agnieska can't. Feli left and I feel alone.

Life is russian roulette. the Bullet departed but didnt cross my skull. Now I live in saint germain. alone. I work and I get paid.

Now I am alone
but You are comming back.
from Lambrate. from Tirana.
From myself

Four Roses

Four roses, Four Crimes, Four sins, Four Loves
Karluv Most, the main prahan bridge. It all started there. 2 o clock of the morning. Five minutes ago I crossed Drahomira, the crazy czech woman with the afghan soldier on a tramway that took me to someplace i couldn't even read. The bridge. very well constructed and a very clever example of gothic architecture and psychological Fear presented before my face like the virgin does infront of a faithless man. in the middle of the bridge, at the feet of the statue of a christ were 2 roses; red inbloom and lonely as perfect. I took them away with me as a souvenir from prague. the first one and probably the most important one as a proof of love of sin of death and conquest. I grabbed them never imagining they would come out with the roots and all the luggage to go home with me, home to paris - that place i call home to be short- as a wedding ring that wasn't infinite, nor circular, nor a ring. just a stick with thorns, leaves and Pistills.
The second roses came in Vienna. where the austrians decided that they couldn't be alone for the trip. i never knew where did they come from but in the end I finished holding a Green pot with Four roses that all looked like the same one. the austrians Gave me the roses as a sign of welcome and Early appreciation as I held them like hope, beholding coincidence and grace as Four roses was the symbol of the journey of my life. all reduced to a roadtrip of 3 weeks in which we Became like tyler durden and his miscounscience, beggars in a world of luxury.
The first One Was for her
the second one was for me
the third one was for her best friend
the fourth one was for the best friends man
Four roses, Four Crimes, Four sins, Four Loves
now we came back to the academy. as usual, usual faces changed. The Jew said hello as I discovered I had to work With him Creating some sort of Wooden built portal. then I went to see another mystery lady after Reading a mail from my friend " come home, there's an inheritage waiting for you. P.S. I fucked the lady" the lady was a colombian stewart that one day, as I was drowing my broken soul in red wine at Felipes shithole, knocked at our door speaking a very strogly accentuated French, holding a salsa book on her hand looking for a pair of russians that used to paint houses for cheap. I chatted with the woman until she said she was From colombia and after a While, when She asked I answered " I was born in that same place too..." she never gave me her name, just asked to be called Maria, Maria Esperanza for Long, Maria a Secas like a protection to herself as the next day she came to ask us Out. We danced and they drank while they stirred sweat from their bodies all close to the other like a washing lady does to a piece of cloth against the rivers' water. she flirted, without knowing to which of us she did. we dispised her as she seemed cheap enough and easy to hence a shag with. Time passed until a day, when I fell asleep at the shithole that she knocked on the door looking for us justifiing her absence with a trip to Spain.
She came back. When I left. She came Back and they slept together. he could be her son. she could be her maid. Still, She did it - as he says- like a 14 year old with experience. " give me something to clean it off" " clean yourself with the walls" he said as vodka invaded his conciousness and the lack of manners hid his shame. She got dressed and left. feeling used and abusive." this is no way to treat a lady, Vous les Hommes, vous etes tous comme ca" He said fuck of, playing the pig he felt like as she left.
she got what she was looking for. a fuck friend a fuck fiend,
he got what he looked for.... hell knows what
Four roses... and Today I saw him to see my belongings. He said " i did it" as the smoke was never enough to avoid laughter and Sehnsucht.
Then I left. I left home, not paris, but my new house, where I am supposed to Rise two kids whose mother is, nothing less than probably the French lost sister of the martinilady, the Queen of my concience... the mother of the insane side of me
and Now i came From the market. Bought a bottle Of Wine, expecting the Eart of the pots to come, expecting my death to leave, expecting lust to stay, expecting her to Come back
Four Roses, Four Crimes, Four Sins, Four Loves

Ich Will

Ich Will, JEDEN HERZSCHLAG KONTROLLIEREN

Wir Wollen Das ihr uns Alles glaubt

KONNT IHR UNS HOREN????
KONNT IHR UNS SEHEN
KONNT IHR UNS FUHLEN?

ICH VERSTEH EUCH NICHT!