Doors

I went across my door,

As I listen to my screams,

My wishes were broken on the floor,

You lapidated my dreams.

Envy, frustration, desperation,

All inside of my door, hesitation.

Inner pain, deception,

Like a mental infection.

My face against you door,

You won’t ever let me in.

My hate against my door,

It won’t ever let me be.

Whispers through the walls,

I fear this is the end,

I see no other way through door,

This isn’t what I meant.

I’m begging on my knees,

My tears cut my arms,

Your door’s frozen, still,

Out awaits my calm.

My face against your door,

You won’t ever let me in.

My weeping on their doors,,

Nobody wants me in.

As the doors are standing there,

They cover up the sun.

I’m frightened of tomorrow,

Every hope’s already gone.

But I’m praying for a light,

I’m hoping it will come,

Killing all the doors,

Showing my way home.

My face against your door,

It won’t ever let me breath,

My pain agains my door,

It won’t ever let me heal.

My rage against your door

It won’t ever let me go.

It won’t ever let me go.

It won’t ever let me go. 

Secuestrado

Estaba en un concierto de música, en una especie de reino extraño. Era todo muy oscuro y negro. La gente vestía de una forma extravagante, y también de colores oscuros. Yo vestía de negro. En un momento saqué mi celular de mi bolsillo, y veo que Danny me advierte de algo y lo guardo. Detrás mío hay dos hombres muy similares, uno más alto que el otro, ambos de negro, que comienzan a señalarme y a confirmar que se trata de mí. Entonces me llevan de ahí, y paso a ser un tercero en la escena, comienzo a ver como acontecen las cosas en mi ausencia. Fui secuestrado y llevado al infierno. Hay una leve conmoción. Aparece una mujer con vestimentas extrañas, pero bellas; era una especie de sacerdotisa que iba a rescatarme. Comienza a tejer un largo manto, con forma de muchos tallos entrelazados y sépalos. Luego, le señala a una persona cuya identidad no recuerdo, que le ordene a los tallos florecer. Lo hace, y de un minuto a otro se llena de rosas blancas. De bajo de aquél manto aparezco, rescatado. De un momento a otro ya no estoy allí, estoy en una especie de gruta a la Virgen. Allí, un demonio intenta engañarme, haciéndose pasar por ella. Luego por una niña, familiar mío, de una forma macabra. Me voy de allí, pienso en volver y sacarlo de ahí. Veo a la Reina de aquél lugar, en compañía a la sacerdotisa y noto que eran iguales. Eran hermanas gemelas. Una tenía el poder político y la otra el poder religioso. Conversaban alegremente. Al parecer, yo era sirviente de la Reina, pero no lo pude corroborar. Luego, cambió mi sueño o bien, desperté.

A vulgar poetry.

A poetry of sadness,
Of childish feelings,
A poetry for fear,
Fears of solitude,
Pain for what it’s not.
A poetry for the fake,
A poetry for the lies,
A poetry for self indulgence,
A poetry for madness,
A poetry for despair,
A poetry for delusions,
A poetry that is not poetry
Untill the moment it’s written on a paper,
And tossed to oblivion’s heart.
Sing poetries of wisdom,
Poetries of forgiveness,
Poetries of friendship,
Poetries of love,
Poetries of bliss,
Or just write them on a paper
And toss them to oblivion’s heart.
That may be the destiny of poetry,
Of a poetry that’s just made of compassion,
Made only of hopes,
But that may be the key for waking up oblivion’s heart,
And leaving behind the fear,
Fears of making poetry,
Poetries about what is life,
Trascending from sorrow,
To an horizon of new wind,
Winds that will carry our souls,
Winds that will clean our minds,
Like holy waters,
Winds that will carry poetry,
As whispers to the ears of God,
Winds that will carry papers to oblivion’s heart,
Winds that will save us from darkness.
A final poetry, I sing,
To call my own name out of the night,
I wrote this poetry with my fears,
Denying the option of oblivion,
Looking for a redemption to myself,
Trusting all of my wishes on a paper,
That will not be tossed to oblivion’s heart,
That will be my only wish in this night,
A night of poetry.

Respóndeme algo.

Respóndeme algo, ahora que te veo,
¿Cuál fue realmente tu deseo?
Saboreas tus miedos ilusionado,
Encontrándote en ti extrañado.
Sintiendo sueños enajenados,
Respirando dolores endulzados,
Recordando tu tormenta en cielos claros,
¿Era realmente tu deseo?
Transmutar hasta ser totalmente nuevo,
Luchar desde cero por un respeto,
Recibir disparos nocivos y perfectos,
Volver a dudar, volver al averno,
Negar, traicionar, mentir.
¿Lograste estar contento?
Ahogar tu cielo en petróleos inciertos,
Sonreír, congelarte en un sueño de excesos,
Mentirte e imaginar que nunca hubo celos,
Aspirar el humo del engaño en silencio,
Cultivar caretas para lanzar al vuelo.
¿Adónde apunta tu titubeo?
Apunta a través de uno como el viento,
Apunta a la senda del ser certero,
Como una luz que libere del infierno,
Como un abrazo de calor en el invierno.
¿Cuál es realmente tu deseo?
Abrazos que quizá no sucedan, palabras que no sonarán, sonrisas efímeras, momentos inolvidables, pero que se descascaran al caer la noche, como cada vida, que me hacen volver a estar en mi cama contemplando el vacío, viendo las sombras de mis inseguridades, jugar con fuego, sacrificar el cuerpo, dejar atrás la sangre, querer ser alguien y aún sentirse nadie, dar tu mayor esfuerzo, ser perverso, maléfico, patético, ¿Egoísta? Un pecador, mentiroso, embustero. Un cobarde que esconde toda esta basura en un texto. El deseo es ser realista, ser sabio, ser sereno. Dejar de anhelar y depender, dejar de soñar y pretender. Ser quien uno es, dejarse llevar, conocer. Pero realmente, el mejor deseo es forjar de verdad, ser más, ser real, mejorar.
¿Qué estás dispuesto a sacrificar para pagar?

Theory of Desolation.

All this time has gone like water in my hands,
Burning something inside my heart.
As these wounds were kept in silence,
Earthquakes came to me silently too.

Daydreams of a colored reality,
Sugarless cups of tea,
Resting on the grass, watching the sea,
All just by myself is no more than a simple shell.

Angels in my head, hopes of a future,
Charcoal illusions, ephemeral love.
So many routes, so far away,
Last images, memories, tastes.

Still touching your skin, still calling your name,
Faith in wisdom, smelt of you.
Over-honesty maybe, to torture my sad brain,
Give me answers, any guiding.
Anesthetize me once again!

Feeling stupid, lost, enchained,
Immobilized, out of my self,
Back to Earth, to deception,
A boat that’s never going to sail.

Cats in outter space, sad songs,
Cigarette smoke, hands shivering,
Smiles, lies, bad nightmares.

Paintings, drawings, songs of mine,
Whole days chatting, wasting time.
Premonitions, you and I,
All of this just to say goodbye.

Ten

How to start a tribute to your name
If just a few would understand these words?
How to explain the way I actually feel
If you understand better than me?

I see your bed of flowers
And sometimos I’d like to be here with you,
Though I know Lord knows why things happen,
But your silence seems so warm.

As butterflies fly around your litter,
Some of us cry by remembering you.
I’m not that kind of man, cause I know what you expect from me;
Despite the layer of ground between us,
I feel your nurturing touch in my forehead,
Your embrace in the wind,
Your voice in the sea,
Your smile in the clouds,
Sometimes, your face in the full moon.

Very few tears have fallen from my eyes for you,
Just because I’ve always felt you beside me.
Can’t feel you away from me, it’s like my heart,
Like if we were no more than one.

Don’t care what others think,
Don’t care about the time, about the age, about death,
I’ll love you till the end of times, as much as you loved me.
Now tears come to read my writing, but gratitude keeps them inside.

Don’t you worry about me,
Don’t waste any minute of eternal bliss,
The halo you deserve lights my way to you.
Just like those time in the nineties,
I hear a tango, remembering us together, sitting in a kitchen.

Then I remember my dreams, the only door for you to come.
I covet sleep for seeing your face again,
By now I feel your nurturing touch in my forehead,
Your embrace in the wind,
Your voice in the sea,
Your smile in the clouds,
Sometimes, your face in the full moon.

I made my promise, you can rest by now,
Sleep still waiting for the day of the real and eternal embrace to come.
Soon.

Ghost of me.

In a night of ghosts I lay writing with my blood:
As there’s no more alcohol to calm the storms in my head,
I’m waiting like a homeless dog waits for a master to take it home,
For an inspiration for my heart beat.
As I look the smoke going out of my mouth,
My hands are still trembling with no sense of what is real,
As I have no sense of what I feel,
Everything I could read said:

Aren’t you ashamed?
Where is now your faith?
Weren’t you supposed to stand in dignity ‘till the end?
Look at you now,
What are those tears about?
Do you even care?

And all I said was ‘no’.

All the sweet smells, all the crazy things, every memory seems stoned down in ground by now,
All the creepy smiles, all the wounds of pain, nothing but the sorrow seems to fill now my brain.
Where have I gone? How could I forget? All I can say by now is:

Aren’t you ashamed?
Where is now your faith?
Weren’t you supposed to stand in dignity ‘till the end?
Look at you now,
What are those tears about?
Do you even care?

I just know I don’t know.

Night has called my name,
Now I’m nothing but a ghost,
Where could I have gone?

I look over my shoulders,
All I've left behind:
There’s no more night.