lunes, 30 de septiembre de 2013

The others

The others

They will show you what you are to them
Wondering on each second in time
The most impossible convergence of stars
And a mountain of salt calling your name.

While I dream of you as a girl or woman
And clumsily I draw you in sand
For not understanding what I want you to understand
All of them could do what I never did.

For some of them a queen, for others a princess
Able to pretend what you are not
The existent image of what you could do
And for your intelligence will be accepted.

So I say that you are not my solace
So that I know that you are not the reason of my joy
So that I admit your crown implies a cross
And the cross lasts a life, a life obtained in the middle of hope.

Necessary but temporary
With you, what I do not have
With something I would like most and trying for
And not wanting to not imagine it

The perfect circle
Turning back to honey
Like a kind face
That breaks mirrors.

Others have influence, I know
As I understand how they affect you
Perceiving that this weight is a burden
Destroying or building the one who bears it.

Nothing is left for me
Lonely streets and silent books
Distorted sights
Panic before my steps

As I love you I want you to love me too
For being prepared and demanding the same response
Feeling like mud kissing marble
With the wind but not your hands playing with my hair.

viernes, 27 de septiembre de 2013

The farewell

The farewell

Thanks to you, my lady
In the space we find an asphyxiating air
Partly for the path you have chosen
Pretending it is settled, trying vainly to diminish

The pain that otherwise I am sure
Would overwhelm me so that I would miss the light
Until I find somebody guilty of blame
This infinite place, which might be reached and lived

She runs away from my hands to dwell in Thou name
And knowing my identity she dismisses me without pity
Because in my story there is little but pure
Although, not water meant for lips that only drink innocence.

At the height of the memories of my story
Kept like a dagger in the center of my heart
The terrible power to imagine that you are with me
And only for that image I embrace immensity in my solitude

In which, even the sun has left in compassion
And its warmth is less than in previous centuries
Believing that is because part of its flame and heat
Were deflected when I lost the way looking at you.

I confess that a part in me wants to afflict you
As a person with a terminal disease addicted to his physician
And as he intends to heal, the patient releases his fury
And thus they way I want to convey you my disturbed nights.

But it is brief, my dear lady
I learned to accept my condition in ashes
For being as air and belonging to the ethereal
Knowing that the cost is to find the uncalled-for  

Not two mistakes, only one or none
Because if in loving the law is not broken
There is no reason to feel guilty unless of wasting time
As there is no pleasure unattainable in eternity.

Because you left me I am leaving you
And because you do not look for me I will
Knowing in each step
I will not reach you, like a man who walks perceiving it.

miércoles, 25 de septiembre de 2013



When you dig a hole in the ground
Ignoring that it would be the same
As doing it in mid air
Because it is not what you remove in doing it.

Continuing, you initiate perseverance
Being the same as an imposed task
Done during day or night
Because is not important the removed but the searched.

Once nervousness is overcome and patience acquires
Without remembering the reason or intended purpose
The effort is discarded on the verge of exhaustion
To return to ignorance and pain from its innocence.

Only then, when you think you have reached your limit
And without seeing clearly what was or will be
You find your hands, your own hands in labor
Even wanting to believe, you do give up the idea to have built with them.

After so much, the skin is depleted
Underneath the blood willingly running through the veins
Providing the continuous power force in muscles
And offering you an unforeseen result

From a motor that is called heart
From a helm that is called mind
Or from something that was found
And as it exists; it is again suspected but unseen.

Then you pretend to stop
But you slyly persist
You always listen from outside
You are defiantly attentive to details.

You almost fall and are nearly lost
Scream aloud in the sea of pained people
And in the brilliant radiance of chosen ones
Rather than guiding, they confuse others.

Not in what you look for
Close your eyes and observe:
No in your heart or mind
But who you perceive have done it
Accepting first, and allowing then.

lunes, 23 de septiembre de 2013



The air promised me things
Of battles that would become history
Matchless voyages
And an endless daily life for the one who experiences it.

Although, nothing happens so fast
And memory is what delays speed
Because there is no urgency in what already happened
Or reluctance, as for having existed there is no more.

The diaphragm a little askew
By a stroke that could not be avoided
The sight always fixed and deep
For having learned to remain defensive.

In the distinction of verses
And the one who writes them
Conception consists on the message
That in the space is still an idea

When not allowing provocation but defeating it
And avoiding to see the face of conquered rising his shield
To show the wall behind which comfortably you dwell
In the middle of a road toward yourself

And then you say, I am sorry, I am very sorry
Nothing spins around me
As I do not spin around anything
Because there is no center or orbit.

Free in bare skin
And absence of fatuities
Like a constant impulse
A primitive altar in a devastated land.

And in the books, the one you bought
They are as known almanacs
Where everything is inferred
Transformed on strings ready to hang.

Eight candles lit and not seven
Which without shining are radiating reflected images
And from all things possible
They fashion a proof and a sign
Serving as a shelter to ordinary things.