i had a time for me to wash my disease
like warriors do
under music shields,
between hugs of my loved ones,
trying to sing lullabies
to help me concieve
the joy of dreaming
Mar 12, 2020
Mar 12, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
In the absence of a longer night and of ideal fertility, I devoured fists of poetry like that desperate one who seeks to satisfy his hunger after having been away a long time, even from himself,
I did not know where I had gotten so much in the pocket of memory and heart,
sometimes not all is lost and one realizes that there is always more space to continue learning,
keep the appetite is important
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 4:36 AM UTC
Do you'll miss me?
If i run away through the mountains just to become water from the river?
Do you'll come here to see me flow? to compare myself with your vains blood?
Purple, green, grey?
Do you'll swim into me?
Do you'll jump to my crib?
My serenade, velvet lover,
I would crumble like a blowing star,
If you please.
But now, it's time to let it go, slip, i'm under, glorious benedicting water.
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 1:20 AM UTC
And yes,
scars were left in the shadow of fear
and the agony sang every night,
but my kindness is untouchable
and I am eternal as the prairies.
And yes,
I collapsed like an avalanche,
a flower mutilated in the summer,
but remember:
Simplicity does not age,
I'm not helpless,
even if I look fragile
as a glass doll,
I am sraight as a tree.
And yes,
there will be cold and difficult hours
but not lost roads
not forbidden voices
but a generous sun,
but breath of inspiration.
And yes, that will be me:
'There are so many things in you
and they are all so delicious"
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC
poetry don't work for anyone else
like to the desperates
who do not find peace in world
and it lacks equanimous beauty to the terrible
to agony
what is wrong
disfigured
deranged
forgotten
poetry is the cradle of crazy
that beyond philology
they look for a motherly hug in words
poetry is not a show
it's the very current of life
and you can see the roots when walking
it's erring from being in being
recreating again and again
in its metamorphosis
poetry is the sweet song of mythological beings
something that we do not see but in which we believe
a spell
a contraption
between paths that slopes
and plunges without rest
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 2:59 AM UTC
The more I observed the photograph
more soul acquired.
Suddenly it seemed to expel air
directly from her lungs:
transpire,
think,
be sad and then
disguise it.
Suddenly she seemed to want to say something,
to take a look at the light — Careful, careful — with a stare.
Lips loose,
defined,
wanting to form a smile that never comes.
Sparkling eyes that pierce the atoms.
Calmed eyes from the ocean.
Eyes of moon and sun that observes everything.
A silence of complicity was present
in the atmosphere of the room.
And she, who knew her as myself,
suddenly it was not just a photograph.
Every stroke of her face
forced me to return more strongly
to that moment
in which I caught the life.
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC
I like to take refuge in the dark, especially in the corners, where absolute darkness reigns, where only she is allowed, where not even the shadow transcend.
And nothing more serene my soul cut by the vileness, than the primitive feeling of the abyss, a chasm that relieves, that listens, that dissolves.
And I, I am a scammer camouflaged in the bark of that tree, my pupils on you, breath of bark, heart of wood, try a bonfire in my guts.
Scammers, let's play a game, let's hide inside ourselves again and again until we lose ourselves in the labyrinth of judgment.
Let's ****** ourselves with the lies and the characters that we have created, let's go out and give scene to our obviousness, to our weaknesses that sometimes are so alien to us.
Let's go loose, out of control, howling for the severity of our gross acts.
Let's laugh at everything, here in the darkness.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
Soy un alma deambulando
de un lado a otro
me gustan los brotes de abril.
Ya casi es abril.
Pensé en él.
Dijo: 'cuando el agua cae en la tierra deja sus huellas en ella,
calma la cólera del fuego.
Tú eres agua,
yo ardo.'
Así sucedió el mediodía y sus palabras se regaron dentro de mí como fértil magma de mis jardines.
Somos procreadores del mundo
queremos escapar del bullicio de las calles, abrir la ventana y saludar al sol.
Queremos penetrar el océano un millar de veces y dirigirnos a la montaña fría
por sentirnos tibia la piel.
También dijo:
'Que encuentres los mejores caminos
hacia los mejores lugares.'
Palabras bien cimentadas,
afectuosas
me llevaron hacia él mismo.
Sigo aquí.
Entré a través de sus ojos oscuros. Estoy satisfecha porque respira, porque me mira, porque es.
Quiero que se quede
hasta que el principio y el fin
se hayan disuelto.
Han sido los impulsos
los que me han mostrado el mundo
parte de mi plenitud,
me han llevado allá donde el sol y la tierra son eléctricos
y me separan de lo peor,
de los monstruos que se ocultan bajo mis tristezas.
Al final de la jornada sólo deseo acurrucarme entre sus brazos de cuna
hacernos inmortales
en un suave beso fugaz
y fusionarnos en el mismo sueño.
Él es mi morada,
él es mi movimiento,
él llena mis días.
Entre las ciudades y los caminos
mientras las estrellas nos miran
existe un lugar rodeado de campo
de nubes multicolores
y de cálido misterio.
Quiero perpetuar ahí
con los míos y los tuyos,
hacerlo todo parte de nosotros,
el filo del horizonte, los tejados y el cieno del bosque, la compañía, el sol, el silencio, las camas, el olor de la madera, la sonoridad de los árboles, la sensualidad, los poemas que leemos en voz alta, la humedad, el agua de la regadera, las comidas improvisadas, las risas de los desconocidos, mis gestos, tus manos, el arte que al que vamos atados.
Está bien envejecer,
está mejor envejecer contigo
en esta casa.
Es magnífico llamarte hogar.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 4:33 PM UTC
In the lightness of gloom
your soul was released from
your body
drowsing in my warm lap
Your pores inhale and exhale
harmonically
I counted your hair cavities
and eternity narrowed to
every thousandth of a second
Your skin is my blanket and my refuge
The lines that define you
join with mine
We are a stormy doodle
trying to represent the meaning
I could do this every night
When the moon eclipse
your glare will remain
and in the lightness of gloom
i'll keep stareing
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 3:15 AM UTC
You know that we are real
I wake up with your deep eyes
inside me.
I would like to throw roots
in your heart
connect it with mine
and when the universe goes out
and its darkness became immense
will be there your breath and mine
electrifying a new everything.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC