como la base, el cordon
de pasion, que une dos personas

la tibia conexion, de miel
y fuego, pero solo, en
llamas.

como un pira eterna, sin
descanzo, sin ojos, que como
balsamo, ayuden a mitigar

el dolor, que quema como
la soledad, del que ama en la
distancia.

que ve en los ojos ajenos
los de aquella que lo esperaba,
y que lo ama aun.

perdido, incompleto, fatuo,
sin conexion, irrebediablemente,
deambulando entre los hombres.

como cuerpo sin alma,
como hombre sin corazon,
pues esta en las manos de
la que lo amo.

con los ojos perdidos, en
el aparente desinteres,
la noche acarrea, mis pasos
de incompleta plenitud.

absorto en mi mente, el deseo tantrico
yace subsole, como mina abandonada
en la penumbra, de una veta.

el fatuo deseo, se escapa entre estertores,
de un fuego eterno, que nunca se apaga,
solo su balsamo, de color palorosa, amaina
el fuego incompleto, tacito,
fatuo
inconexo.

mientras subsole, frente
mar, las dos sueñan
con el hijo de venus,
pero nunca lo tendran.

en una decadente, fiesta eterna
donde solo sufren, por el amor
que no pueden tener.



davide montecinos.

threw your eyes
y became human,
y breath, and let go  
anger and pain.

starting to feel
that i am not alone, that neruda
understood, in his poem
the queen.

theres more bigger than you there are
ther are prettier than you, there are
there more little than you, there are
but i named you mi queen, and no one
sees, your walking threw the air, no one sees
the red gold carpet that you walk on.

the loved one, queen of
mi empire of words, that no one
knows only her, every photo, breaking
our departed love, every smile in the distance
was my excuse to carry, each day.
and that she understand me.

but the secret is now semi public,
nights come with all the rush,
even then y can and must be cool,

loneliness is hard, the distance
it is the pain, remorse not,
only letting go is the chance,
be the beast, be the lion,

loving in secret, keeping the loved distance
that allowed me to love in secret,
even nigthmares are on your count,
nights and pain, making poems out
of life, and if not aloud me to do so,
pain killer nights to forget that
the light of mi eyes, is far away, and i need to touch
someone, so no lover.

but the need of your skin, the need
of my eyes, to see the objective goddess
that they love and desire, is like the need
for her smile, her strawberry jam smile.

its you, the lady that owns mi heart.
cest bonn, touche. being folish,
departed from the creeps in my brain,
the need for that most wanted, is poorly
tolerated, the fever is giant, and lonesome
of love is the poem, but always alone,  
after all, the beast must go on,

in tree years or so, would y be free,
after the lies and deicit, after the hurm,
after all, the love is everywhere, and the friend
is more loved then ever, and the rest of mi heart
it suffers as always, and more this tree years,

all the clues given in this, all the mugle talkers,
respect is a need of the offenders, to feel something
it all, all is clear, love hurts, the need is clearer then ever
respect is and should be a rigth, human and animal.

time is no longer their option, and the flux of words are
stucked, in the eyes of the mate, holding a little
piece of my heart, all is clear, and the need of
pain is no longer my addiction, after all the pain,
y grew up, and decide to love, and split myself,

one too big, one too small, im a pig,
that love them both, the mate and the love,
all is clear in mi movi bubble, even the
clear is clear now, about it all, the two
pieces of my heart, le amour,ahh,  le ami
adore, le belle chanson, la belle et la bette,
je sui la bette, cest tout la belle bette cheri,
mon petite bette adore.

all is ´past, never take the blame
for cowards, or say sorry for them,
never say sorry, for the hurm, you
never did, past is prologue, and love
can save the day after all.

je adore le pettite bette,
ladrona de corazones.

You are
The whisper of wind
That tickles my neck.
The music
That makes me dance.
The bird
That lands so close.
The rain
That soaks me to the bone.
The perfume
That brings me to tears.
The threadbare blanket
That keeps me warm.
The voice
That speaks through photos.
The song
That sings in my heart.
The memories
That are never far.
You are.

SOMETIMES A MORTAL FEELS IN HIMSELF NATURE
--NOT HIS FATHER BUT HIS MOTHER STIRS
WITHIN HIM, AND HE BECOMES INMORTAL WITH HER
INMORTALITY. FROM TIME TO TIME SHE CLAIMS
KINDREDSHIP WWITH US, AND SOME GLOBULE
FROM HER VEINS STEALS UP INTO OUR OWN.

I AM THE AUTUMNAL SUN,
WITH AUTUMN GALES MY RACE IS RUN
WHEN WILL THE HAZEL PUT FORTH ITS FLOERS,
OR THE GRAPE RIPEN UNDER MY BOWERS¿
WHEN WILL THE HARVEST OR THE HUNTER'S MOON
TURN MI MIDNIGTH INTO MID-NOON
I AM ALL SEERE AND YELLOW,
AND TO MY CORE MELLOW.
THE MAST IS DROPPING WITHIN M WOODS,
THE WINTER IS LURKING WITHIN MY MOODS,
AND THE RUSTLING OFN THE WITHERED LEAF
IS THE CONSTANT MUSIC OF MI GRIEF....



HENRY DAVID THOUREAU AN AMERICAN TITAN VERY UNKNOWN AND MY FAVORITE YANKEE POET. SO GOOD, AS SHELLEY. THIS SHOULD BE HERE. HENRY DAVID THOUREAU THE GREAT AMERICAN ORIGINAL, CIVYL DESOBEDIANCE IS SO ******* GOOD WALDEN TOO, BUT HIS POEMS ARE BEAUTIFUL AND MELLOW.

under the aparent darkness,
the nacar red of your lips
give me ligth.

between the tender and quiet
kisses of fire, you absorved
my darkness

there was no magic, it was
just that, two dark beings
absorving ligth.

a beast with a loewe head,
desolated, tormented, for
his pain.

between the lost and desdain,
and with desire sticked
to his skin.

the ligth in absolut darkness,
years looking that skin of silk,
those lips sweet as honney.

the silky and perfumated lips,
of a beautiful shadow, a lioness
in the dark.

and who will know, only darkness,
about that silk skin, that give ligth,
in a dark nigth.

a loewe, the lost descendant,
looking the way, and to that silk skin,
of honey gold and fire.

a lion lost in shadows, looking that
skin, that as divine grace, or gifth
of friendly gods.

found me, catch and love me
in the shadows, rigth before dawn,
giving life to the blackened heart.


and the flux of life, of strength,
to resist mi strokes, controling
herself tenderly.

never scared of my roarings,
only the beautiful fire, she give me,
with her nacar red lips.

her femmale lips, a beast, beautiful
with her skin of silk, perfumated and
HERMOSA,  A MUSE IN THE SHADOW.

tenderly resisting to the attacks of a
beast, thirsty of her, her ***, her blood, kissing
her skin inch by inch.

the HERMOSA shadow, with silk skin,
and nacar red lips, resist even thou, she
wanted to lay next to this beast

thirsty of her, her body, her etternal legs,
her *** of MUJER HERMOSA,
the beautiful and sweet lioness, that was mine
in absolut darkness..