Wednesday, May 27, 2009

falling

falling

   even when the fall is only thing 
   one has left that matters

falling

falling

   picking up pieces here

falling

   graceful or your face in the mud

falling 

falling

   whether you shout into the night

falling

   and run like hell

falling

   or cry your eyes out
   pleading to whatever higher power

falling

falling

falling

   it isn't going to 
   make any difference

falling

   you fall

falling

falling

   but no worries: you won't

falling

   be there 

falling

falling

   to see 

falling

   the sudden stop

Monday, May 11, 2009

there is nothing to say

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

the night spreads on the sky 

a one-way-mirror 
  with tiny little peep-holes 
for gods to watch 
  the squalid human condition 

play, watch and laugh 

even if i know 
some of the stars i watch 
  are long dead 

even if i know 
in the no man's land of 
  all things since passed 
the words i utter precipitously 
  are long dead 
if not insignificant

as night spreads 
we despair, watch and remember 
  that history is not the antidote 
  but very reason for cynicism 

Sunday, May 4, 2009

bring out my stale words
two cents a piece
speaking of yesteryear's
love, obsession or heartbreak

two cents a piece

even if words without love
were as empty as love without words

but
they are two cents a piece
and i'm much too tired to sleep

Sunday, April 19, 2009

"hell is where
all hope is banished"

as I wrote this
in the margin of an article
which playfully explored
Leibniz, Voltaire and Maupertius
in a land
far far away from
any family I had
be it my own
or my own chosing
I realize that
hell is not a fate
but also one´s own chosing.

I may be living in someone´s
best of all possible worlds
but it is not my own.

Flashback: circa Winter 1999

once upon a time there was a man
  in his cave waiting to be disturbed
  and reminded who he was

he was shaken by a woman whose hair bore 
   thousands of red suns
   distilling fire in her hair

and every morning after that 
   with every drop of fire 
   her eyes changed their color 
      to a different shade of green he hasn't 
      tasted before:

earthy, sweet, sour, acidic, hot,
   icy, rusty, breezy, bitter, minty...

the words they exchanged
   spoke of ice and storm deserts 
   as perfect allusions to the small disasters 
      they shared 

"in the archipelago of loves i lived through
   i came to believe that
   loving someone has nothing to do with
   the object of one's affection but
   one's heart" she said

he didn't know why he told her 
   he's loved her the same 
   where-ever she was
   whom-ever she was with
   always

probably because it was the truth
   or because he didn't know what was it like
   otherwise

she lit a cigarette
and he thought he saw a spec of grey
   in her eyes as soon as she spoke the words
   "i think men are simple" 
which playfully intertwined
   with thin smoke veins of the 
   conversation they have longed they had had
   since they have met eons ago

the greens of her eyes
   the red of the wine she sips
   the reddish brown of her hair

i like being simple he thought

her hair kept bearing red bright suns
   the sun kept distilling fire
   as his thought became words on the
      tip of his fingers 
   moving onto her hands
   moving onto her lips
   into her eyes
   as a catalysis changing their color
      again

as if in this barren desert of ice and snow
   the conversation they have longed they had had
   run on borrowed time and 
   her eyes were trying to be all the greens and
   her hair was trying to be all the reds 
      he could imagine 
   as fast as they can 
   but they had no time

and he said
"i love you but i don't take you for granted
   nor do i believe i have the right to ask
   you to be who i want you to be
             where i want you to be
             how i want you to be"

realizing soon she had to go

"i don't want to be a burden"
   he added gravely

he said he loved her 
   onto her breasts
   stressing each syllable with a pause
   in her own tongue:

"se...ni...se...vi...yo...rum"

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

in
here
we
are
far
away
from
any-
where
any-
body
a
sad
song
pursu-
ing
us
to
the
ends
of
world
but
i
can't
run
away
any-
more
mad
down
to
noth-
ing
noth-
ing
except
for
few
words
i
tucked
away