Writing's worse,
Music doesn't work,
Talking to you helped,

I guess I didn't want to hear,


What I knew you'd say



Eventually

This man was much worse
than a spendthrift of time
unaware of what truly mattered
He wasted his words
full of worry and regret
then wore them
as clothes torn and tattered

Sonnet.


Une musique amoureuse
Sous les doigts d'un guitariste
S'est éveillée, un peu triste,
Avec la brise peureuse ;

Et sous la feuillée ombreuse
Où le jour mourant résiste,
Tourne, se lasse, et persiste
Une valse langoureuse.

On sent, dans l'air qui s'effondre,
Son âme en extase fondre ;
- Et parmi la vapeur rose

De la nuit délicieuse
Monte cette blonde chose,
La lune silencieuse.

Death....a common event amongst mankind and yet, tears still shead like leaves in the autumn, as the last breaths of a loved one's are deprived from us . Their souls, grasped by the boney hands of death.

He is not our enemy nor a friend, but he is a symbol of both sadness and freedom. Only to appear when a soul has left it's newly empty shell. He takes them in as his own steering them into the direction of their next life.

Bigotedly, I held the same view,
Pacing a tank domestic and half-full
As the airbag now sprung from the hemisphere of my lungs,
Stone-hard and hysteric in the cradle of your palms.

there a fairy in my garden she visits me at night
i know when she is there her wand it has a light
flying all around flying round the plants
on the edge of my pond she does  her fairy dance

she wears a gown of white a tiara on her head
flies along the borders of my flower bed
just before the dawn she flies in to the sky
waves her fairy wand as she says good bye

I work the rigging and draw the sails
on a life that rarely catches wind.
Blisters on my hands,
splinters in my soul—
I navigate uncharted waters
to reach a land unknown.

I gnaw on hardtack;
it feeds but never fills.
Each night I look into the deep,
unafraid it might pull me in.
Cannonball strapped to my leg,
should I ever let it.
Carry me anywhere
but this wretched boat.

The sea is life.
Life is unruly.
Of all the battles I’ve fought,
none as unwinnable
as you.

I retreat to my quarters,
seeking rest.
Dawn tosses silver on my soul,
jolting me awake.

Vez
lo
que
es
      pues
yo
ya
no.
      La
cruz
da
      luz
sin
fin

The most beautiful humans
struck by young fame
graced and haunted
by societies expectations.

Not too fat,
but not too skinny,
Not so flat
and always pretty.

Are they
mannequins in motion?
or people—
the industry doesn’t know

They throw
sticks and stones
turning them
to skin and bones

Their tears
could drown cities—
full of hunger
and pain—
but they stay silent.

Because they must.
“You must be seen,
and not heard.”
Just walk now,
and look pretty.

Goddesses bound by heels
bleeding behind blush ..
They are told to glow now
but one day they’ll burn

Fable XV, Livre III.


Comme ce fournisseur, au visage vermeil,
Rebondi, ramassé dans sa courte structure,
Et brodé sur toute couture,
Un melon étalait son gros ventre au soleil ;
Et, du haut de sa couche, à la rave modeste
Qui, dans le sable aride, à ses pieds végétait,
Adressait ce discours, qu'en bêchant écoutait
Mon jardinier, qui vous l'atteste :
« Que je te plains ! (Ce mot est le mot du mépris
Comme de la pitié.) Que je te plains, ma chère,
D'être si mal nourrie ! et que je suis surpris
Qu'on trouve même à vivre en aussi maigre terre !
Gros-Jean n'a des yeux que pour moi.
C'est un tort ; et, d'honneur, j'aurais l'âme ravie
S'il s'occupait un peu de toi,
Qui meurs, soyons de bonne foi,
De faim moins encor que d'envie. »
« - Et que peut-on vous envier ? »
Répond l'humble racine : « oui, vous vivez à l'aise ;
Vous êtes gros et gras, soit ; mais, ne vous déplaise,
Votre embonpoint vient du fumier. »

To want more than you’re given,
To see more than you can reach,
To love with no place to put it.
But most of what surrounds you can’t or won’t meet you there.
That mismatch?
That’s the curse.

I can't wait to die
No one will care
Neither will I
Greetings, death, my dear

Italia y Alemania dilataron sus velas
de lodo carcomido,
agruparon, sembraron sus luctuosas telas,
lanzaron las arañas más negras de su nido.

Contra España cayeron y España no ha caído.

España no es un grano,
ni una ciudad, ni dos, ni tres ciudades.
España no se abarca con la mano
que arroja en su terreno puñados de crueldades.

Al mar no se lo tragan los barcos invasores,
mientras existe un árbol el bosque no se pierde,
una pared perdura sobre un solo ladrillo.
España se defiende de reveses traidores,
y avanza, y lucha, y muerde
mientras le quede un hombre de pie como un cuchillo.

Si no se pierde todo no se ha perdido nada.

En tanto aliente un español con ira
fulgurante de espada,
¿se perderá? ¡Mentira!

Mirad, no lo contrario que sucede,
sino lo favorable que promete el futuro,
los anchos porvenires que allá se bambolean.
El acero no cede,
el bronce sigue en su color y duro,
la piedra no se ablanda por más que la golpean.

No nos queda un varón, sino millones,
ni un corazón que canta: ¡soy un muro!,
que es una inmensidad de corazones.

En Euzkadi han caído no sé cuántos leones
y una ciudad por la invasión deshechos.
Su soplo de silencio nos anima,
y su valor redobla en nuestros pechos
atravesando España por debajo y encima.


No se debe llorar, que no es la hora,
hombres en cuya piel se transparenta
la libertad del mar trabajadora.

Quien se para a llorar, quien se lamenta
contra la piedra hostil del desaliento,
quien se pone a otra cosa que no sea el combate,
no será un vencedor, será un vencido lento.

Español, al rescate
de todo lo perdido.
¡Venceré! has de gritar sobre cada momento
para no ser vencido.

Si fuera un grano lo que nos quedara,
España salvaremos con un grano.
La victoria es un fuego que alumbra nuestra cara
desde un remoto monte cada vez más cercano.

If I were to leave tomorrow,
would you ever remember me?
would you visit my grave -
Is that how you'd remember me?
Or would you turn me
into a poem of yours,
and keep me alive through you?

Never Own Anyones Heart

Or you will see in time

A heart is easy to break

Hopefully not mine

She will be partying
I will be drinking

She will be dancing
I will be cutting

She will be laughing
I will be bleeding

She will be talking with others
I will be watched over by others

Because She knows I'm not worth crying over
And I know She was my only and now it's over

You loved every inch -
My scars, marks, and bruises.
I carried a part of you, for a time...
And you held me as I bled out on the bed.
You told me I was beautiful.
You cradled my face, and kissed me when I cried.
Your hands made me feel I was worthy.
When you knelt before me, I was.

I’ll meet you again
Somewhere between now and then
When the marigolds have long died
Where tears have finally dried
How long, we won’t know
For we must wait to reap what we sow
Cobwebs and dust will cover each shelf
No longer will I be myself
Between life and death
I must find you before my final breath
Through soil and stone
Nothing matches the love you’ve shown
Please don't forget about me
Soon, together we shall be
I’ll meet you again
Someday, somewhere between now and then.

Tether me with flowers
bring me sunshine everyday !
Do not ruffle up my feathers
when I'm doing it my way !
Fasten smiles upon me say,      
"Go ahead, do it your way !"

The fire I smothered now rages, fed by fury I tried to forget. Smoke claws at the sky like a coal train screaming under pressure all fury, no mercy.

I did not fall in love with you
I fell in love with love
Yet even love hated me

Leaving the mirror feels like walking out of a shadow,
You try to piece together the fragments,
Accepting they will never mirror you again.
Some might say it’s your fault,
But it feels like walking through life
With a quiet strength where there once was emptiness.
Solitude.
Acceptance.
Self-compassion.
Growth.
Patienc­e.
Stillness.
Gratitude.
Understanding.
Trusting your own reflection.
No longer seeking validation,
No longer seeing yourself in others.
The image was false,
But the truth is clearer now,
The quiet voice that was always there,
Unshaken.
The grief fades—
Not gone, but transformed.

Strength.
Awareness.
A new beginning.

Your laugh,
my sigh,
melt away
in the citrus and heat.
The sun beats down
on my back
in undulating waves.
I drink it in,
but it leaves an aftertaste—
unnervingly inevitable.
Soon it’ll be over.
It won’t last…
I know.

But before I leave,
I want to waste
my last days
getting lost
in the haze
of your sun-kissed
summer face

rain came, seeds will grow.



watered places i cannot reach,

**** half full.



noisy day, farmer making hay,

lambs  moved from  mothers.



they say the sun will come

later to dry.

I miss my mum
She's not dead
She's just holed up in work instead

No complaints
No regrets
But I know she hates this life when she scratches her head

I miss my mum
She's in the next room

Wanting to be free
But she doesn't leave
Because she misses me too

Sadness speaks in lullabies
No one wants to hear
In tears that fall
Without permission
In the ache that says
"You are not okay"
Bt you will be,someday.

You weren't another animal in the shed
you loved even before your sight bled
not one to pretend you knew
your eyes only saw pictures that were true
and I wish I could've been so
yet bounded by my mind I never grew
but you tell me its not the end of the show
maybe still in a torn down cabin my world would brew
all my wear and tear in your silent chest I could stow
you wish nothing of me
and that's all it takes to make one want to be
and maybe one day we'll come together and be three

Para que tú me oigas
mis palabras
se adelgazan a veces
como las huellas de las gaviotas en las playas.

Collar, cascabel ebrio
para tus manos suaves como las uvas.

Y las miro lejanas mis palabras.
Más que mías son tuyas.
Van trepando en mi viejo dolor como las yedras.

Ellas trepan así por las paredes húmedas.
Eres tú la culpable de este juego sangriento.

Ellas están huyendo de mi guarida oscura.
Todo lo llenas tú, todo lo llenas.

Antes que tú poblaron la soledad que ocupas,
y están acostumbradas más que tú a mi tristeza.

Ahora quiero que digan lo que quiero decirte
para que tú las oigas como quiero que me oigas.

El viento de la angustia aún las suele arrastrar.
Huracanes de sueños aún a veces las tumban.

Escuchas otras voces en mi voz dolorida.
Llanto de viejas bocas, sangre de viejas súplicas.
Ámame, compañera. No me abandones. Sígueme.
Sígueme, compañera, en esa ola de angustia.

Pero se van tiñendo con tu amor mis palabras.
Todo lo ocupas tú, todo lo ocupas.

Voy haciendo de todas un collar infinito
para tus blancas manos, suaves como las uvas.

Truth is the light of love, science is the shadow of truth.