Death is always in my mind

the constant friend and alienator

choking on my throat

pressing on my lounges

But yet distant, behind a veil

the only truth, yet unknown

the flesh that gets rotten

the fetid fumes that eventually fade

....

It is the most extreme sadness

tears my viscera as it goes through my mind

I wish I could happily enjoy drunkenness

but life gets in, reality hits the soul

and not even the amber nectar washes it away

and so is death again, as always, most aware.

....

A great part of my self died today

as I go through life

all sort of pieces have fallen from me

some I lost along the way

but most remained attached to me, dead.

A constant reminder

weight that I have to carry always

wight that's almost to heavy for me to take

but even if more is added

I can bare.

On the verge of falling down to the ground

on my weakened knees

and succumbing to my own horrid dead weight

and if I could see myself from some distance

with all my dead parts on me

I'd probably see myself dragging these parts

but trying, desperately trying

to appear OK to the inquisitive eyes

and I would cover my nudity

even when it is all that remains

....

And poetry is my saviour

and the breath I cannot grasp myself

it is the most sincere reality

and it is also the most terrible pain

and it is also mine

it's mine to take.

and it also fades...

All the nights perrish,
and they all remain
in my own awareness of the day

Hoping to see friends that never were
to talk to them and see how they are
and how they were

I wished for something I still don't know
For something beyond thought
and the memory of the wish remains,
but not the wish itself

The unforgiving, all mighty truth hit me
it hit me hard in the face,
but a strike of reality, other than lies, is best

Hard as it may be, and as much as I want out
I should for some time stay
and try harder to be, and keep breathing, and better not forget

One hundred new moons in the sky
await for me, while the horizon crashes
and the sun sits still at dawn

Hearing the call of nature
I will set myself to fly

Moon darkens the sky
no bumblebee flies
sing the sea to my lies
birds compulsivly cry
wind glitters the grass
green, yellow and blind.


Sing the sea to the wind
that cries, compulsively, cries
shines water in creek
dies creek in the ground

Hush the frogs that sing in the fields 

as their sing is cry and their cry is fear

Hush them all as they cry for thee

as they cry for us, as they cry for me.

Dry the dew that caress the grass

with that softened touch which once was mine

Dry the tears that the frogs brought back

as it adds dead weight onto my back

A weekend of sorrow

A weekend of expectation

A weekend to remain in the dark

A weekend to turn

a weekend to metamorphosise

Waste your intellect

and loose yourself in perception

and see if you can stop

once the weekend's dead

Turn, turn, turn

into the arms of perception

Turn, turn, turn

into the arms of perception

waste your way

fall into alienation

Fade, fade, break

fall into the void

fall to your back

disappear your lack

of estimation

Blind yourself

take your common eyes off

and use the ones fear lends

Get away from life

if you don't live it to the fullest

Endure.

Empty is when I'm down

my heart, my mind

My soul wonders around

and I am stuck

with the pain of watching

with the sorrow of a widow

cause my married self has departured

and I am stuck

I am paralized

Secretive secrets

remain hidden to me

but I don't even want 

to find out about them

I don't care

I posses my own 

secretive secrets

that I probably

won't ever share

And the pile will grow

and grow, and grow

until they crumble

on my head 

on my mind

on my self

Or they will blow up

like a swollen balloon

splattering everything

and they'll be 

splattered secrets

10 am is the hour of my death

I will perrish, slowly, like the wind

blowing the thinest sand away

I will disappear for ever

I will disappear for ever

Another thorn will be stuck in me

another sigh will escape from me

another me will die

I am not even person

I am not even I

So my lungs won't fill with air

and my eyes will shed no tears

and my heart won't beat

and my hand won't write

because I don't exist

I've been dead for a long time

10 am is the hour of my death

10 am is the hour when reality breaks

La tristeza increíble

atraviesa el pecho 

como una daga fría

cuando caemos en 

conocimiento

de la desolada realidad

y vemos que el destino

depende de un brillo

que solo pocos tendrán

y que la mayoría deberá

sufrir la condena

de ser uno más

Golden rain 

creeps my eyes

dust from hell

I inhale.

Fallen disguise

of tomorrow's lies

get on my path

as I recover my old self

as I get closer to living

as I begin to die.

I wanted more

I have it all

and dissappear

as light comes near.

The gods are dead

the blames are set

no one's ever to say

how, or why, or when or where.

The gods have died

and freed the intelect

to the abbys of man

and the endless dark.

so, this is just some chain of thoughts...

How is it that in sorrow all the people, old people, middle aged, tough men and women, behave like children? Is it because growing up is imposed? An imposed fallacy, and when at our weakest we cannot bare the lie anymore; and we let go of our conciouseness, and we become like children.
Is this the real freedom that we believe to have when we are aware, but presents itself only in the most degrading grief?

I have noticed this kind of behaviour also when people are close to dieing. Pride vanishes. Utter shame overcomes, and overwhelms, and thus... freedom of the mind.

Mis pies en el agua blanca

de pensamiento y afines

destino de mi boca manca

de mis palabras, confines.

Atados entre la roca

del río que muere quieto

cosen los labios, la boca

y el cuerpo no es más que un boceto

Say one word

and remain silent

wait for the void 

to come

to answer

Say one word

and wait for the void

to haunt you

and forever remain

silent.

Sabrás lo que pesa el silencio
Una vez que se callen tus voces
Una vez que la multitud se aleje
Una vez que dejen todos de reír
o aún de llorar

Sólo ahí sabrás lo que pesa el silencio
Cuando las multitudes de tu ser,
de tu mente, dejen de serlo
Cuando tu espíritu deje de reír
o aún de llorar

Cuando las voces, compañeras
incesantes, callen para siempre
Sólo ahí sabrás lo que pesa el silencio.


------


You will know what silence weighs

once your voices shut
once the crowd departs
once everyone stops their laugh
or even cry.

Only then you will know what silence weighs
when the crowds of your being,
of your mind, cease to be
When your spirit stops its laugh
or even cry.

When the voices, constant
companions, hush forever
only then will you know what silence weighs.