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Julian Revà Mar 2018
I feel you throb in every noise
I hear you shudder in each bed
I feel your kiss in all the lips
I see your look in all the eyes
I cry you in each pair of tears
I hug you in each pair of arms
I see you flow in all the rivers
I seek for you in each letter
   (to burn you all)
I totally hate you in every envy
I scream at you in all the moans
I write you in each one of my poems
I love you in each one of your words
I die for you day by day
I live for you everynight
I remember you in every
          forgotten memory
I forget you in each
         new remembrance

I secretly build you
in the same story as mine

I am the father of your children,
the grandfather of each of your seed
I am the grave that resides
close to you in eternity

I'm still nothing of yours
I'm becoming your whole
Originally, this poem was in spanish, so I tried to translate it, but I couldn't do it at all. So I changed it a little bit; I removed certain verses and altered the order of other ones. These are some of the lost verses in spanish:

te anhelo y no es mentira
y en parte es un secreto
y en parte me confundes
pero nunca te confundiría

cualquier legado
del que me hagas heredero
será atesorado; será legado
a otros herederos de otros reinos]
Julian Revà Mar 2018
There are scratches on my sight
appealing to feelings I forgot
and barely can remember
Forasmuch as I can know
something's dying inside

I don't keep dead furniture
in my heart's room [that's for sure];
somehow, something's started rotting;
stinks and make me ****** and cold
Maybe they are buried hopes

Buried really deep, beneath all
the useless furniture that grace heart
Because there's always plenty of room
at the heart for more heart and more love

And this antipoetical night
leads me exactly to nowhere
Where I can be completely alone
and enjoy of all the room
that's plenty, beneath my hopes

There is no inspiration
there are no vows to take
There are no rhyms to rhyme
and there are no verses to verse
There are no poems
if there are no poets anymore
Julian Revà Feb 2018
A poem in spanish

Sé que la gracia se halla
en no llamar ni ser llamado
De ir por ahí, inmiscuido
inexacto, impreciso;
a destiempo | La gracia radica
en lo importuno de la oportunidad
que no se aprovecha, pero
se arrepiente, se duele
"se busca"
El punto es ir dando lástima
lastimando, hastiando
jodiendo; y joder
es un buen verbo
Hay otros tantos que riman
tan bien infinitiva-mente
pero joder es el adecuado;
       es polifacético
El punto también es joder
[cuando nos acurrucábamos
en un corruco y
nos buscábamos y
nos amábamos y
nos jodíamos unilateralmente]
Nos jodíamos cuando
nos necesitábamos
Pero ahora es distinto
Ahora sólo nos presentimos
como espasmos, como fríos
como escalofríos en la espina dorsal
Nos sentimos, lo sentimos; (lo siento)
nos vamos sintiendo
en cada esquina en la cual presentimos -
en la parte de la ciudad en la que
                  va solo mi brazo
     y va rajada tu muñeca;
me jodo solo por estar tan "sólo
pensando" en lo que hubiera dicho
o en cualquier rima que
hubiera callado / sin forma
No hay forma de volver a formarnos,
de volver a ser uno solo,
de no estar deseando
que todo esto acabe,
que sea otra pesadilla
sobre lo miserable que es todo
El punto es ignorarnos
     hasta el ocaso,
hasta que se nos olvide
que nos vamos olvidamos
El punto es no hacer daño
dañando a cada rato
                   (un poco más)
sin perdonarnos, sin buscar
queriendo hacernos más daño
Sorry for not translating this, but I find it perfect likes this.
Julian Revà Feb 2018
I recently have noticed
how sick I look on you
everytime you post a pic
or share a moment

I look sick following you
Everytime that you try
to make your life apart
I look sick when I follow you
not through dark alleys
but on twitter, facebook
or instagram

I am not used to write
odd modern poetry
but you deserve a reason
to why I started
unfollowing you

So, everytime you upload
a last-night-party pic
I want you to know I won't be there
looking for every guy you were
hanging around with

Because lately I've noticed
that I look sick not for following you
but for being aware
of what you were doing

I'm sick of being a post
instead of being a memory
I'm sick of social media
and their way of twisting things

Making us more a number or dates
instead of making us "friends"
(who says that you can't be friend with your ex?
maybe ancient rules, maybe an idiot
with post-traumatic-relationship-stress)

I'm sick of "follows", "tweets", "likes"
ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends

I'm unfollowing you for my health
I'm unfollowing the entire world 'cause
constantly they remind me to you
with all their fake friends and ***** guys
and ***** girls; ******* attention that
maybe they don't truely deserve

Yeah, probably I should unfollow the world
                                                     for my health
Julian Revà Feb 2018
What would've happened if our touch hadn't died?
Certainly, I cannot bring feelings back to life
neither can I know of non-existent futures
nor talk by odds about how they look like

Because contact is just a past-tense verb
doesn't happen often, just can happened in the past
If you touched me now, we would been talking
about touching                                              
but not being in "contact"

Maybe is a matter of language
because in some other countries they use
contact to mean touch, and touch to mean contact
But you hadn't touched me
neither have you had contact

We are in an unreachable distance now

So, even if you tried to call me
by the phone, with a small chat
I'd be so far, out of reach
that your touch would never reached me

Sometimes you cannot bring caress back to life
and I think that's the true meaning of being
in "contact"                                              

We are lost, in another times
like a past-tense verb
as "contact" trying to be "touch"
as "goodbye" trying to be "hi"

I know we are unreachable now
Nonetheless, I think we should try
once again, being in "contact"
There's a spanish phrase:
"estar en contacto" (being in touch) that also can be translate as "being in contact". I find it confusing; what's the truly difference about touch, contact, hi and goodbye?
  Feb 2018 Julian Revà
you knock at my door
i open it, standing there
in my oversized tshirt
and my hair done in braids
i let you in
you have a new speaker
you're so excited
you apologize
because your retainer
is still in your mouth
and your hair looks
like you haven't brushed it
and i don't know
how to tell you that
you are the most beautiful
person i have ever seen
you ask me for music
preference but i say
whatever you want
because you are my
melody and i could
dance to you all
night long
you climb on my
roommate's bed and
sit there because
she's out of town
and i get in bed
we sit in silence
you with your retainer
and me with my glasses
we're listening to
indie music and laughing
saying maybe today
the world isn't so ******
and this bass is just
so **** perfect
and we're not lovers
we're just friends
and that is so much
better than anything
i could ask for
you ask me how we
are so perfect
together and i
tell you that it is
because your presence
feels so much like
home to me
it gets later in the night
and you're falling asleep
we talk about your dreams
you want to return to
cape town and become
someone dedicated to
service and love
and i don't know
how to tell you that
you are so perfect
to me and i love the way
you hold yourself and
always strive to be someone
better, stronger, greater
we're listening to songs
in languages i don't speak
but gosh
your eyes light up when we
speak of the fields and
the ceremonies
you feel like you belong there
and i feel like i would
like to be somewhere near you
so that after you're done
saving the world for the day
you can come lie
next to me and we can
listen to indie songs
until we fall asleep.
vance joy's new album is amazing
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