Diez minutos

cigar-alemania

Diez minutos (do not) para decir todo lo que no podríamos (leave us) estar mejor que ahora porque cayó del cielo nada que nos pudiera ayudar contaminando el mar de odio y polvo se acumulan en mi escritorio desdiciendo el morbo te transluces estéticamente donde caes levantas un basural seguro que Kim Jong-un teme la desesperación (scream out, baby) del superespacio colateral que nos destruye como si una vaca sólidamente le hablara al perro todos los días por teléfono (do not go, baby) no nos dejes no ya no descascarando la escuálida casualidad concomitante a tu indiferencia let’s convey those feelings you did not- que la conveniencia de quedarse

que-dar     se

q-     ued-    ars e.

que-da-rrrr  se-se-se-

El humo de cigarro no está de todos modos me quedo y te espero.

C.

To convey the things that couldn’t be heard 15/4/13

Two steps ahead

Paris is not here

I’m well aware of it

(That you always are…)

And it’s funny that
when I’m learning how to run
You are already
going to
the opposite direction (so fast).

It’s like
you’ve been unreachable from
every single (damn) angle
since forever

I don’t even walk anymore.
There’s no point.

Even if I try
You will always be
two steps ahead of me

You’ve always been like this
(I’m well aware of that)

However, why does it still feel so
unfair?
Can you tell?, omitting the part where
You are not even listening now.

You have always been like this.
Kinda unfair, isn’t it?

C.

A pathless path with you 4/4/2013

See you not

“Have ye your heart yet hardened? Having eyes, see ye not?  and having ears, hear ye not? Do ye not remember?”

[They didn’t, they were blind and lost.
And so they answered.

‘There is
nowhere else
to go’
They said
(they always said that kind of things).

‘Shall ye grab our souls and hands despite all of
us?’

They wondered in silence
And it was dark,
and it was cold
and they cried a little
inside].

C – Oct 16 / ’12

State of (not) being (again)

My eardrums ring in the trembling air
I was Standing in that road
side by side with you
when a Flashing Light exploded

and before I realised it
you were gone.
Extra terrestrial Biological Entities – EGOIST

I need to stop looking for you.

(because)

You are not going to be there.

Under the table

Beneath the sky

Deep down the sea

You’re not going to be anywhere

Even if I scream your name

Even if I make a call to the sempiternal of this rotten world

You’re just like the dust that I couldn’t catch within the wind

A distant place out of my reach

The healed sore in my barefoot at the time I ran and ran and ran

Through planets and systems

To you

Looking for you

Utterly blinded

Utterly lost

And it’s kind of sad

And it’s fine

I always knew that

It’s like something you know from

Previous lifes

That

you are

Not

Going to be there

Under my skin

Inside my head

Over

me.

So I’m going to run for the last time

Through planets and systems

Looking desperately for you

And knowing the futility of the effort beforehand

I’m going laugh and cry and scream as  mad

all at

the same time

To me,

who is completely aware of its state of being

And lost

So sadly lost.

And finally

To you,

who is in nowhere to be found.

(I will stop looking for you).

C – 8/Oct/2012

Probabilities

Inside the future you’re looking at, if you look so closely,
You’ll just realize it so well you’ll want to break it down -That you can’t hold a monopoly.

Percentage – School Food Punishment

.

.

Old boy, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you, I was like, in nowhere, miles and miles away from you at the time you cried and said all those things that I don’t know.

 

Yet.

 

Old boy, if I could make you a question, like what does life mean to you, what would be your answer? You know, I’ve been thinking that the probability of a good answer is near to a 3 percent, probably. You decide what I’m meaning when I say good answer, though. And your answer, of course.

 

But if I could ask you just one question, I wouldn’t waste it on that superficial one. I would ask what’s your favorite color, summer over winter?, or what is your cardiac frequency, those kind of important questions. Real questions. Sustancial, like water or something.

 

Ah, old boy, how is your face now? I mean, it is not like I don’t know you, but I’ve been thinking that in my eyes you seem to have a ridiculous amount of haze upon your face lately and I want to say I’m sorry for no reason, and run and take your hand as I say it again and again until the whole phrase loses its meaning and we fall inside a vortex of nothing where we finally (finally, finally) can see each other’s face.

 

But, old little boy, I coudn’t be there when you said those words. Or when you desperately cried. Or when you did nothing of those things.

 

If I could call your name, I think it would start with F, M or S. FMS, where are you now? It’s not a rhetoric question, you see; if I could call your name, would your asnwer mine by the way (which could start either with  N, A, S; NAS)? I think, I usually think and overthink about that, but nothing seems to come up, like if there’s no possible reason for an unlikely asnwer.

 

Or an answer that doesn’t exist at all, which depress me, and then I want to punch your dear and blur face until you cry my name and beg for forgiveness that don’t have any right to give.

 

Old boy FMS, here, NAS calling you. Has it been fun? Life, I mean. Or the chocolates I never sent, the call I never made, the words I never thought. A negative answer is near to a 100 percent, I pressume, but, old boy, old little boy, I’m realizing something.

 

Something that’s awful and sort of hurts.

 

I know, I couldn’t be there when all those things I don’t know happened to you; but, but, ah, old little boy, you definitely maybe won’t be here at all when I cry, and say all those words you’ll never know because good probabilities are always so far from our reach, it even gives you the impression that we’ve never met, actually (could it be true, I wonder).

 

As if was me, indeed, who has a ridiculous amount of haze upon its unknow face and you who has to say “I’m sorry and I’m sorry” for no reason until you fall into a vortex where you see anyone’s face, and then, and so then… then nothing, I guess, old little boy,  because you’re already walking over the asphalt, smiling like a fool as you look at the bright sky flashing with another random future for you with other questions and other answers.

Crita – 15/8/2012

Indefiniciones

deriva

Entonces, habría que preguntarse si no estamos siendo increíblemente legalistas y mostrando a un dios absurdo y dictatorial (para lo que crean en uno, claramente). Que si esta situación tal vez se ha abierto para mostrar las falencias y contradicciones diarias de un creyente, de esas que nunca se hablan y se hace vista gorda. Ese oportunismo que tanto nos gusta. El testimonio del que nos llenamos la boca. La incapacidad para ser consecuente durante toda la vida pero ser profundamente tozudos frente a un solo punto, como si eso aboliera todo lo anterior. Creer que ir a la iglesia es la respuesta o que lo define completamente. Esos ritos que terminan siendo fecundamente estériles.

Entonces, hombre, lo único medianamente tangible que nos queda, metafóricamente hablando incluso, es esa relación que por opción propia hemos decido crear o inventar, dependiendo del punto de vista que se mire. Que si existe un dios tiene que haber ese punto de encuentro entre nuestra conciencia y acción sin llegar al lado cómodo del asunto, donde escudemos todo en nuestros buenos pensamientos e intenciones tras la inacción, también común. Esto es lo único que tenemos, lo único que terminará por valer.

No me siento mal ni apóstata por pensar fuera del recipiente. Creo profundamente que es siguiente paso a seguir frente a un problema de esta complejidad, donde se comprometen tus creencias de 21 años. Y por lo mismo no necesito que me pregunten dónde está mi fe o que me digan que Dios quiere que haga esto y esto otro. Déjenme y lo veo yo. Me perturba que el mundo asuma que tengo que actuar de determinada forma y que determinada cosa va a ocurrir si lo hago; esas son como respuestas mecanizadas por repetirlas una y otra vez, desde cuna o por simple inercia. Si creo que hay un dios, este debe tener un mínimo de inteligencia, como para dialogar y encontrar una respuesta sensata entre los dos. Por mucho que nos guste dárnosla de oh gran sabios y creyentes-a-morir, no siempre la respuesta es tan clara ni de a primeras. Puede ser increíblemente gris hasta que nos damos cuenta de que es la correcta y que era de un blanco radiante tras toda la neblina.

Así como la vida está llenísima de contradicciones, no tenemos por qué esperar que todos actúen de una misma manera en todo momento. El hombre está sujeto a cambios. Y el mundo debería darse por enterado.

Es sólo que, espero, no cambiemos de un modo que termine negándonos por definición. Que dejar de ser quien soy nunca ha estado en mis planes.

D. 13/Julio/2012

We are sort of buried here, can you hear us there?

I’m not crawlin for you – #3 1997

.

Such a long time ago,

we closed our eyes

and it’s so

hard

(really hard)

trying to see again.

 

We all wonder if

what they taught us

wasn’t completely

untrue

 

Because even

light

is blinding us

now.

 

We are desperated

We want to see again

We want to feel whatever

the true

they told us

means

or meant.

 

Will you reach my hand

and show me

the right path to take?

 

Because it just seems to get

darker and darker

here.

 

I’m even

triping over

my own feet

and something little

inside here

is

bleeding

painfully.

 

I don’t want chanted

words

I want certainty

I want the freedom

that people over

the streets

keep talking about

(even if they don’t have any idea what freedom is)

 

We don’t want to give up

it’s just that the answers

to the usual questions

are no longer the same.

 

Say,

will you open our eyes

and let us see how we

supposed to

see?

Are you even hearing us

right now?

There?

(someone?)

 

It’s funny  because

you have started to look

so

distant lately

 

Like from

Countless

light years.

 

So far

that I’d laugh

’till I die

if I could.

[I’m blind and waiting for you

-Big Machine, Goo goo dolls]

Crita, 7/7/’12