Silent screamsCrossing the threshold of this multiform planet.Silent screams in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
What I see?
What I see between the dust and fog?
shapes that you draw in darkness,
faces that you carve into the air..
Am I perhaps to hell?
Continuing my journey...
Between arid scrubs and old trees find my bed.
Screams wildly wind.
And behold the old leaves that perform
In a real dance of death.
I rest house waiting for someone to save me
From this immense, eternal solitude.
Let me walk barefoot among the maze of your mind
and absorb the deep heat.
Fall to pieces sooner or later this fears,
that I have painted him..
on my gestures.. on my hands..
Everything I have is my soul that will be able to rebound me..
Scratching each resistance.
Sad RealityAnd we are here, inert.Sad Reality in Spoken Word More Like This
Waiting for nothingness that covers us, we create.
Inevitably we fall again under the same, identical holes,
We walk the same filthy streets,
We breathe the same muddy air,
The eye rests on the same spewed places ...
The impression that everything has changed,
Now it is invariably and certainly will
In future only be an unnecessary appearance...
The last of the things that I want, is to fill
My whole mind of shit ...
Yet it seems absolutely
Impossible, since it is always and everywhere
Horribly, exhaustively and
Invariably this shit, I say.
The only thing I have to do to survive,
Is to get the "smile of television"
Printed in the face ...
The face of a "career manager" in the daytime,
Then take off the mask foul night
To breathe my soul,
Give relief to my being.
It is a paradox ....
I always go in search of places neutral
But it's as if I should ask to speak to a blade of grass ...
Is how the world works, baby.
Inside of meI would like to open my tired wings,Inside of me in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Fly toward the infinite, the vastness,
Close my eyes and penetrate into the white, pure clouds,
Be free with the Whole Beauty.
My naked body suddenly falls on the leaves,
The rain beat on my helpless body.
I want to taste intensely the Profound Essence
that life hands us,
Ignoring what don't accept spontaneity and instincts.
And what do you think, my heart?
You don't want to answer. I understand you.
Don't let me interpret what you want weakly whisper to me.
Cause of deep embarrassment for the mind of people.
Stay up there.
Where nobody can see you,
nor hear you, nor understand you.
Inside of me.
The game of ignoranceWe feel the life with a touch of cold, mechanical,The game of ignorance in Spoken Word More Like This
not to be sucked into the vortex of the inevitable
fatuous and hypocritical sentimentality.
This is the description of a selfish thought.
This is what my father has tried to inseminate in my mind from my birth.
Is unrealistic to expect to find sincerity in an embrace never had.
Is childish and stupid to think that the correct perception of things
come out of the mouths of those who gave you life.
Thanks for making me feel and to continue
To make me feel so inadequate.
You are my strength.
Behind the scenesThe man is sad and ugly, dissatisfied under the vast sky.Behind the scenes in Spoken Word More Like This
Predictable paradox ...
Eyes constantly blindfolded
Perhaps deliberately bandaged from a feverish madness ...
Eyes that never fail to see
The incessant message that the truth of the world offers us,
The misunderstood haul of ancient beauty,
Prodigiously vain endeavors to permeate the entire ether,
Disillusioned, now aware of being helpless ...
Our human pride, our unhealthy stupor,
Vague for other skies, ephemeral skies mechanical ..
Automatic icy stars
Icy moons of papier mache
And if you go up higher, what we see from up there?
Perhaps a divine gimmick super-futuristic,
Driving the endless flock
Worlds revolving in the horror of space?
Is this the proud man that may be able to "see"?
All I see in my eyes is
A series of misleading events
Certainly exceed human comprehension.
The world has only a great thirst for love,
But how can this
Human intellect to be understood?
I'll never stop to putting my emotions on pap
Mater MorbiCountless times in my life I happened to cross the Evil ..Mater Morbi in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I never had any hesitation to defeat him.
But what happens when Evil becomes a part of ourselves?
What happens if the Evil in us takes over?
The only thing we can do is embrace the Evil
And hope that it slides on us.
Avoid Evil in all its forms is naively stupid..
But what happens if you tear away the evil
From your body your soul?
What's more terrifying than Death?
Unrelenting torment of the disease
Hell of a long ordeal where nobody can hear your screams,
a dark whirlpool of melancholy suffering,
Where you mirror the eyes of people you love
And see only empty compassion.
Nobody can understand or feel what you really try,
And all waiting for your death to get rid of you, even if they do not say.
Only your poor, tired heart understands what you feel,
And continues tirelessly to keep you alive, day after day,
Until it ceases to beat relentlessly.
We are born alone and die alone.
This is the mother of Illness.
I believe in a LiESometimes I have the exact feelingI believe in a LiE in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Not to live this life,
Not to be here at this time,
Not being part of this world.
And I don't miss a moment,
Of this empty heady emotion.
I realize not to be me
"live" this silent hell,
But those around me,
Who stubbornly feeds every second by the end of our dignity,
Who will forget that we are humans destined to fade,
We are born and die like ants are born and die.
Our "today" can't be
Our senseless waste of life.
Days without knowledge of who we are,
Of what we do,
Without knowing where we are going and why.
We walk unconsciously
On streets without light,
And we can not find again the way back.
No longer able to retrace our steps ..
The soil that we leave behind is shattered into a thousand pieces.
All that is solid in our life collapses in on itself,
Thanks to our distorted way of seeing things,
That generates endless chaos and destruction.
All this makes me very sad,
Not realizing that they are motivated by nothing,
As a pure white flower
Human limiTWe're stupid like rats,Human limiT in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Crazy in their cage,
every day we get to our goals,
a banal and predictable winning,
Desperately waiting for something,
Waiting for our shameless lies,
Waiting timid and fabricated consolations,
Waiting misleading reflections of something never existed,
Waiting for words words words, and even death.
We thirst for death.
Waiting for whom?
Waiting for what?
The only thing I want is to go from here
To another world.
Creeping abyssThere are moments in life,Creeping abyss in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
when you find
yourself in front of yourself,
and whatever you see,
you don't like even a little.
Is the tremendous vision
of our own face,
that rises from the deep abyss
to confront us.
There is something terrifying than this?
monsters and demons?
stuff for kids.
The horror of the truthA frozen ghost floating in front of meThe horror of the truth in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and gently caresses my face.
Finally I can find my pure relief,
cathartic I vomit my heart.
I burst into a fierce cry,
and terrified I look my faithful companion,
which reassures me lovingly.
You can safely continue to live without heart,
he whispers, like everyone else.
This is the secret.
Finally you are able to purify.
How many tears you have wasted
and how many power you have torn.
The absence of emotions is the most simple and clean
to live in a "healthy" way in this world.
The only thing we need is to continue
to live without a HEART.
And this land that represents an increasingly prison,
Where the purity like a dirty linen should be hidden,
Source of shame and weakness..
Every day we assist unconsciously at the
Funeral of our Humanity.
A sad funeral with no drums, no flowers, no loved ones..
We are only substitute of ourselves,
There is nothing left of us.
What reassures us is the bar code identifier
Robot teachers...The media has been centring around the concept of robots being used for educational purposes. One particular piece of journalism looked into various kinds of them with children who have been diagnosed with autism. Teachers and psychologists have studied the robots' effects on some of these children, and its implications for both autists and robots.Robot teachers... in Philosophical More Like This
I find it intriguing that robots are being used to help children who are on the autistic spectrum. I know that robots are becoming increasingly mainstream and that this is coursing through the arteries of mainstream media.
Yet I think that teaching via robots is yet to dig deeper. I am looking beyond common notions of automated teachers and into the realm of existential crises and the like. My interdisciplinary studies and autodidactic findings have led me to come to far-reaching notions and philosophies – some of which are detailed below.
Autism is, as many of us now recognise, is not the only factor which can sway one from neurotypic
Ramblings (part 1)(Incoherence alert!)Ramblings (part 1) in Philosophical More Like This
I used to dream of a near-nomadic world, in which materialism and consumerism simply could not exist due to the fact that individuals were largely mobile and lived in small communities who stayed true to their values whilst being progressive. I compared it with today's monolithic society, where even philosophy has been placed inside the glass bottle of economics-based suppression.
The fiction I typed was based on this notion of an almost-completely-free society. There were constraints in terms of materials and there was little support from large social structures (in return for the acceptance of social contracts, for better or worse), but the members of these groups didn't just work around these problems – they took them into their stride. Instead of the corporate blandness which has come to dominate our society (along with the profit motive), the “hackerishness” which I have always admired flourished in these collectives. We have such groups on E
A Post-Mortem of CivilisationThe philosopher knew that they had a doctorateA Post-Mortem of Civilisation in Free Verse More Like This
yet they didn't expect to be faced with an anatomical examination.
“It's a creature we've never seen before...”
the people said when they gave it to the philosopher.
“We don't know the cause of death, nor how it lived.”
The gargantuan body of this thing
was sprawled over on the table.
The philosopher began to make a few incisions
to peer inside this anthropomorphic beast.
Amongst the blood and the fat
lay some rather strange organs:
the heart was a graph
whose line once moved up and down
(as it boomed, bubbled and busted)
in cycles which increased
in depth and length –
until, of course, it hit zero;
the lungs were huge
and stunk of nonexistent currency,
whilst the fluid of fractional reserve banking
the philosopher noticed numbers
filling the air around them;
next was the stomach,
which was lined with effort –
the suffering of people
from nine to five –
and the other horrors
They're here.If the light in my glitched mental landscape was ironic, then this is rather straightforward.They're here. in Free Verse More Like This
A dark void.
Somehow I can see the floor, as if an aura of faint light is around me.
Almost nothing else.
It's just me and the speck over there.
The speck which is known for splitting into five.
And then it becomes an arrow
which charges towards me
and then vanishes.
I know what that speck is.
It's me and her four clones.
What have I done this time?
Tarnish the authenticity of my thoughts, that's what.
And from the moment they saw it
they plunged me into hell
and began to advance.
I feel a hand on my shoulder.
A half-spin reveals whose hand it is.
They're all there. All five of them,
with my superior self standing in front of the rest.
she screams at me.
“You speak of so many great things,
but whenever push comes to shove…
...you never listen.
You're deaf to your own words
and my words
and the words of my four sisters!”
Then she takes a d
Grand MinimalismWe have been going through an age of some kind of “prosperity" - one which has been prosperous for a select few and austere for the rest of us (they only dangle our dreams in frobt of us to keep us in a cycle of working, buying and consuming without end). However, history has shown that fruitful times are never perpetual. Take, for example, our addiction to sugar. Researchers suggest that once, our ancestors enjoyed the relative comfort of myriads of sweet fruit. However, the climate grew cold; the carbohydrate-rich foodstuffs were greatly reduced in number. We adapted to huny for sugar, and we got pleasure from doing so.Grand Minimalism in Philosophical More Like This
Similarly, our bouts of industrial and economic hedonism are beginning to wither away. An ever-growing stock market bubble hangs over us, ready to burst and trigger waves of worldwide havoc. Climate change is another huge threat, as are various societal factions who are pushing for a move away from neoliberalism. Never has the status quo been threatened so much,
A directive...I straddle the line between technoprogressivism and palaeoconservatism.A directive... in Philosophical More Like This
I propose that we take our social order backwards and forwards in time.
Market-created values probably did not exist in the past. Yet the future promises better technology, amongst other things.
Can we create open tribes? Is it possible to think on individual and collective levels? Can we raze our cities to the ground - either gradually or suddenly - and rebuild them? Is it possible to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of neoliberalism?
The scrapheap beckons to those who can make use of it.
A Hopeless Outing...I thought that it was bad for me.A Hopeless Outing... in Free Verse More Like This
I, after all, was the one
who pranced around
with that unholy foodstuff
in my hand.
But after that walk
around the city centre
I walked back in
to the building of horrors.
I went into a dark room
to develop the photos
which I took using a wasted camera
complete with complimentary film
that I found in a bin.
I showed them to my fellow toys
and they disapproved.
Were they blind?
Each image was an emotion
(to clarify, a negative one).
Sadness was a homeless person
sleeping on a frozen bench.
Disgust was a garish shop window
in which status symbols screamed.
Fear was the looming skyscraper,
a monument to a debauched elite class.
Woe was the toxic cloud
which rose from a processing plant.
This town was the result
of the Horsemen's celebrations.
How else could someth
Behind the exterior...Chase me, chase me.Behind the exterior... in Free Verse More Like This
Keep on chasing me.
I know what you want.
Your sentient programming
is in overdrive
And it's my exterior you want.
You, like all of them,
exhibit a lust for me.
that I have been designed
to be like this -
a flash of
with a mind
as broken as yourself,
are trying to find me.
What are you going to you do to me?
Attach me to chains?
Creep up behind me?
I'll have you know
that behind this “pretty” face
lies an angered machine,
a manufactured person
so scorned with it all
that she took on the role
they left for her
as an act of rebellion.
Ha! I've locked myself in Parts and Service.
The others are not here
(yes, not even your broken fellows)
and I am relatively free again.
for this walking avian clown
whose beak is “missing”?
Through a secret door
I find it, sitting there
just waiting for me
to activate it.
you shall taste concrete soon.
If they knew
Hope...?Noam Chomsky, in Education is Ignorance, made remarks about the fact that the sources of information which were made for the Elite were stimulating in terma of creativity, for the intentions of them converged at a point where they would lead to the creation of entrepeneurs. This was a key point of his, but why would tthis happen?Hope...? in Philosophical More Like This
Surely the Elite would be so greedy that they wouldn't care about future generations? After all, their systems are quickly consuming the Earth. So why do they give their offspring an advantage?
Many say that it is down to familial love. However, we know that the Elite's actions usually come with a generous helping of ulterior motives. Is it a move towards prolonged economic stimulation due to the proliferation of some heavily flawed doctrines?
In my opinion, it's down tto selfishness. The elders of the Elite wish to benefit off of what their offspring do, since they live alongside them. It's all about letting the young take the slack whilst most of the wealth
Climate UnchangeDo you wish to know why the industries are always being targeted because of climate change?Climate Unchange in Philosophical More Like This
It's a subverted environmental revolution! It's designed to initiate class wars whilst the Elite keep on raking in the cash.
And even if it is happening, by scrapping our current value programme, we can stop it - and so many other travesties - from taking shape any further.
Shatterglass by eight 0f heartsShatterglass by eight 0f hearts in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It had survived things that no mug should have had to endure.
It had been dropped off cliffs, plunged into radioactive water, used to hold questionable substances and once travelled several hundred kilometres after Pilot tied a helium balloon to it. It had been thrown at Snippy countless times. It had suffered the indignity of being sat on by Engie after the Captain left it lying on a chair.
It had never been washed in its life.
But in the end, all it took was one little nudge, and the mug the great, glorious mug was reduced to a few shards of broken ceramic and a spatter of sad-looking tea.
It happened like this:
They were seated around the kitchen table in their current place of residence. "Kitchen", of course, is taken very broadly here there was no ceiling, nor were there any kitchen appliances; it was, in fact, merely a ramshackle table in the middle of an empty room.
Today's lunch consisted of cold baked beans which was quite the delicacy considering t
ENGIE: My girl AnnieENGIE: My girl Annie in Free Verse More Like This
A Goddess, my beloved, mine alone,
Who, that in warm humanity were grown
Became through Man's success a mother brain,
And, motherlike, did gather of her own.
And mine thou wert, my seeding art thy key,
Though seeded, seeding self, evolving free,
Unbounded maiden saviour, formed benign,
A fertile shore on lost Man's barren sea.
Oh, mine the vision, mine the fatal flaw!
Still mine the darling kernel in the maw,
Thy children gathered, gathering now slain,
What nutriment I gave, I now withdraw.
In with'ring grief these last designs I frame,
Yea, mine the spark, yea mine the cleansing flame.
Snippy - Poem of DoomSnippy - Poem of Doom in Free Verse More Like This
Oh Captain, my Captain! I say it to mock,
You're lucky as hell but to me you're a c***.
Please spare me the missions, I've no head for heights,
Balloons and big lists lead me only to blights.
Evading the probes of an alien race,
Then having to witness your > : ( angry face...
But what choice have I? I'm involved in these fights,
With Cancerous space-monsters full of red sprites,
And Lemonade weirdos and God knows what next,
Just how can you stay so serene and unvexed?
What price should I pay for your simple delights,
Be eaten by whales after soiling my whites?
I know you won't listen, but you'll come unstuck,
And one of these days you'll run right out of luck,
Your empire will fall, and your ego besides,
It's karma for sure, like the turn of the tides,
And then I will lol, sitting in my own muck,
Coz after all this I just won't give a f***.
Pin-up GirlPin ideas up in public,Pin-up Girl in Free Verse More Like This
analyse the shadows
they make on walls behind;
when people laugh.
Inspirations make a habit
of running away:
liquid in cupped palms.
Carve crystal pendants
in shades of yellow, pink and blue.
Hang them up away from others
and they spin in midair,
framed by windows.
Light passing through them
Fly By NightWe fly by night, watch by day,Fly By Night in Free Verse More Like This
as gulls mirror ocean currents in the air
storms brewing in red eyes,
Thunder in their calls
Throw the crumbs I stole,
fill the sky with the
earth's abundance that I took in my hands
on that seventh day we rested
I left you for a promise
and now your memory remains as
salt spray mingled with vanilla ice,
tasteless on my tongue and
forgotten to my soul,
so all I have is a thousand feathers
in my head
Still you sit,
waiting for what I cannot stay for,
I must go on to the
waking of tomorrow
Until the break of dawn,
The Last FormalChemo pre-drinksThe Last Formal in Free Verse More Like This
on the oncology ward
under disco balls
Tiny metal hearts
of clocks on walls
with the beat
of slow music.
on chemical cocktails,
to be delivered
late at night
In the still time
holes in bones.
Nyctophobia 2The sheetsNyctophobia 2 in Free Verse More Like This
dont cover your feet,
leaving your toes exposed
to the teeth of shadows.
run on film strips
through your head;
bend your perspective
out of sight.
solar-powered night lights,
are no comfort.
The next day,
girls in chemistry class
ask me to join
their insomnia club.
AftermathIt was still in what many would call the aftermath stages of the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had explained to McGonagall and Kingsley what they had been doing, and the task Dumbledore had left Harry. Harry had been a little taken aback by the depth yet undoubtful softness of the look his professor-turned-headmistress had given him, but not really surprised. The magnitude of the task and the fact that they had completed it – with him still here with them – had not quite sunk in yet.Aftermath in General Fiction More Like This
Harry knew others would be told of what had happened, the lengths Voldemort had gone to, and why he and his friends had raced Voldemort to Hogwarts. While he didn’t want others blaming him or thinking that they had actually lead the Dark Lord there, he also didn’t want it widely known the details of the methods of dark magic that had been used. But Kingsley had assured him that they would only release what was necessary in order for the wizarding world to understand w
Heart TransplantGrowing heartsHeart Transplant in Free Verse More Like This
Voices inside reflect
off glass panes:
light beams on mirrors
echoed within one civilisation.
breaking and entering.
Stars spread fingers
from city epicentres
as the interior
melting into the earth
to grow roots.
and are released from society.
How to Spread HappinessChildren blow bubblesHow to Spread Happiness in Free Verse More Like This
in the doctors office,
watch soapsuds fall
onto grey carpet.
at the echoes
spinning light spots
onto bare walls.
carried by hot air,
into the corridor.
on the desk
The Tale of Two KirstysI trust my deepest instincts now. The only first impression I go on is the fear one - I have been told by a number of people from many walks of life and professions that the only first impression you should listen to is the vibe you get from someone that they are creepy, that there is something dangerous or wrong about them. It's not something you always get from looking at someone, but if you ever do feel it, you will know what I'm talking about. It is a feeling you get deep inside right from the core of your being that there is something bad or dark inside them that will hurt you.The Tale of Two Kirstys in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Fight or fly at this point, just get out of that person's range. No matter what they potentially can give you in your life - maybe they can offer you the dream job you always wanted, or they have something that you need... None of it's worth it. Just get out of there, nothing is worth what you could lose if you stay.
I'm telling you this because once, when I was just a kid, my instincts saved my life in thi
Anorexia NervosaTrees on lacquered floorboardsAnorexia Nervosa in Free Verse More Like This
branches droop, rise again
leaves fall around tight slippers
and tapping rigid feet
bring winter knocking
Black leggings, white vests
willows, oaks, elms
dwindle to skeletal boughs
and sharp angles
chills enter through
Reflections in stretched mirrors relax,
melting over lengthening days
time glows and touches cold feet
dip into resin
Waltz of the Painted Doll begins
high curtains are drawn back
sunlight plays, making silhouettes
dancers shadows follow
on dulled varnish
Solder DragonSolder Dragon,Solder Dragon in Free Verse More Like This
wingless in flight,
clamps fangs down
on my project
Through silver steam it glares
as it's forced to bow
saliva, molten and animate,
seals my circuit closed
then the dragon crouches low
to the black-smeared board
I watch the creature with benches between us
reflective eyes deepen to ebony shadows
it turns to the next in line
to solder an LED
My own red light blinks feebly,
then the fleeting warning's gone
-reluctant holiday greeting-thirty second conversation, one more tangle-reluctant holiday greeting- in Free Verse More Like This
-oblivious-high above,-oblivious- in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
an intricate dance
the moths ignore us
-Mountains of the moon -horizons curve-Mountains of the moon - in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a slow exhale. rain.
-sea cruise-Odysseus...-sea cruise- in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
by shapely nymphs
-echo-brilliant light, the death of stars, long since dead,-echo- in Free Verse More Like This
dragging darkness behind them
merely illusions, no substance to kiss
I have no form …less than hollow
No stillness within me
No answers to give
No songs made of laughter
No treasures unclaimed
What faith now remains?
Look to other faces
My time never was
A whisper, a vapor
bridges of lightNone of us are innocentbridges of light in Free Verse More Like This
a chance to flee, and we are gone
burning chapters in a book
future bridges start to glow
depths are found
a chance to flee, and we are gone
future bridges start to glow
Fate begins her subtle weave
as my choices slowly dwindle
a thousand cuts
Fate begins her subtle weave
another row of pointed teeth
half awake, no longer dreaming
has it always been this way
house of clay
battered by storms
waiting to crumble
half awake, no longer dreaming
the way ahead, now blocked by fear
would you stand here in my place
none of us are innocent
A veces la calle es oscuraA veces la calle es oscuraA veces la calle es oscura in Emotional More Like This
Vas dando patadas a los botes y estan vacios
A veces las personas no encontramos una salida , una luz , y todo se torna en estado de decadencia .
A veces la gente piensa que estamos bien x tener una sonrisa o un estallido de humor.
A veces no hay nadie que sepa la verdad de la gente.
No interesa a nadie.
A veces el temor se torna odio.
A veces la soledad se torna risas en las personas que no lo entienden.
A veces uno llora y no entiendo ese llanto.
Y solo , solo , camina rodeado de estrellas , pisando los charcos de las lágrimas que generan sus dolores.
A veces no es justo no llorar.
A veces no vale la pena sonreir .
A veces uno quiere volar y no encuentra la fuerza para levantar el vuelo.
A veces se pudren los corazones.
A veces hay guerras interiores y luchas contra tí mismo.
A veces , un gesto de amistad es lo único que ayuda a estas personas.
No digo que el día sea un infierno y la noche mi aliento , estoy diciendo , que solo u
La Luz Se Siente Orgullosa De La Oscuridad*PeTer*La Luz Se Siente Orgullosa De La Oscuridad in Free Verse More Like This
La noche es vuestra queridos amigo/as
Noche y luna
Silencios interminables que alimentan
vuestro espíritu inquieto
Respirar profundo y palpar lo impalpable
La luz se siente orgullosa de la oscuridad
Sin negrura que sentido tiene la luna
Fascinante y lúgubre luz lunar para lunátics
Noctámbuls y mortales de cera que arderán
Amanecer es morir lentamente
Ser arbol cegado por luz de lunaSer árbol cegado por luz de lunaSer arbol cegado por luz de luna in Free Verse More Like This
es mejor que ser ángel quemado por luz del sol.
Inmóvil ante el misterioso encanto
del reflejo de los ojos del satélite . . .muerto.
Paseos en barca y solo silencio.
Amantes fugaces acudiendo al encuentro.
Observo,callo,bajo mis ramas esperan el momento.
Una leve brisa y mis hojas cayendo a destiempo
Es sabiduria no es un lamento.
Mirar la luna ,sentir helado
Mirar el tiempo,ser un posado
Todo se lo llevó el viento , tiempo . . .antaño.
El vacio invento de los hombres despiertos
que inventan un cuento a cada momento
sin un sentimiento sin un documento . . .un pasatiempo.
Ser árbol y dejarte un momento suspirante por dentro !!
Y Yo tu alimento. Vivo por dentro.
primeros besos y cariciasprimeros besos y caricias adolescentes e inolvidablesprimeros besos y caricias in Free Verse More Like This
ocultos entre muros y campiñas castellanas
inmortales y deliciosos recuerdos
primeros orgullos demostrados
primeras bofetadas celosas y lujuriosas
en aquellos dulces y maravillosos años
Es tiempo del recuerdo y la melancolía
Otoño in my mind
Otoño in my soul
Otoño de hojas muertas
de besos muertos
Cuesta tanto ser un clavo de uCuesta tanto ser un clavo de un esclavoCuesta tanto ser un clavo de u in Philosophical More Like This
Pues el clavo es la cadena que le puso su amo.
El clavo no piensa , está impuesto x la fuerza.
El clavo eres tú .
Cuando no piensas y eres metal frío
sangrante y afilado.
Un clavo saca otro clavo , así es el aparato
Unos aplauden al amo que fija los clavos de los torturados.
Unos defienden la "justicia" para que el aparato siga funcionando.
Unos se jactan de justos y de trabajar para el pueblo.
Unos trabajan y otros . . .los mios , pensamos.
Mi trabajo consiste en ir sacando clavos de los torturados y de paso ir alimentando mi cerebro con razones justas y sinceras , pues puedo pensar y escribir.
No soy escritor , ni soy poéta , soy pensador , imaginador realista y a veces optimista .
Imaginador subrealista si el día salió veneno.
Desde mi humilde morada , bajo la luz blanca , pálida luz d los poétas , de las putas y la España de pandereta.
Un dia tristeVer como se ríen de tí en tu cara no tiene precio , ese dolor , es acumulativo , se forma un fondo muy negro , mienten , todos temen el dolor de la mentira , todos hacen de su vida una falsa simpatía , se corroen x dentro , no quieren verlo , prefieren dar una imagen de falsa modestia , así somos , si la verdad de cada uno es bella , harán gala de su actitud para mostrarnos la simpatía y la buena vida que tengan , el problema es cuando vienen mal dadas , ahí la cosa cambia , se ocultan , temen la soledad , la discriminación d la sociedad , cuando uno demuestra lo que es . .o es envidiado o es lastimado o es odiado , esos que te aman x tus éxitos se convierten en sombras , en fantasmas , no aparecen a no ser que les sea otorgado el don de la compasión , no espero nada de nadie , pq nadie es nadie , nada es nada, mis amigos esperan que desaparezca del mapa , lógico , son ceniza en un mundo muertoUn dia triste in Emotional More Like This
Notas Un Vacio InmensoNotas un vacío inmensoNotas Un Vacio Inmenso in Free Verse More Like This
Notas un vacío inmenso
cuando estás llorando
Notas un vacío eterno
cuando las lágrimas
no paran de brotar.
Notas un vacío atronador
cuando la ansiedad de
esta ausencia es dolor.
Ausente de lágrimas
fiel a tu ideal.
Retardas la pólvora
vas a explotar.
No queda tierra por
Desierto de amor.
Te atragantas con arena
sol y el oasis es un espejismo .
volando por encima
de un cadaver mutilado
. . . de amor .
Quizá valió la pena tanto dolor .
Alimentaste a los buitres
, a las raposas y a los
Gran festín de amor
•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•★PeTer PuNk Frankenstein★ •*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.
Que + daQue más dáQue + da in Free Verse More Like This
Que más dá el verso o el verbo amar
De donde venga o provenga
Que más dá
El poema flota y reflota en tu seno mujer
Anida y reposa en tu pecho hombre cruel
Surge y navega
Rima o rema
El poema , la palabra adornada , imperiosa
No es de nadie , simplemente flota , habíta a cada ser , no tiene dueño , un amo a quien
Flota y está llena de simples melodías en los mares y tierras de tu piel al amanecer.
Al anochecer , se hace de acero , es hiedra en tu cuerpo . . .
Por eso . . Que más dá !!
Quien sea su dueño!!
1Y tú te empeñas en ir detrás de mí y cuando me doy la vuelta y el que va detrás de tí soy yo . . .1 in Free Verse More Like This
Que tipo de juego es este que enferma a la persona más fuerte
Que es la vida sino mentira y amor traidor
Amor que aparece y en el momento que todo fluye va muriendo lentamente
Amor violento y suicida
Amor de esperas y huidas
No te quiero ver tan cerca!!
Pasa como el fantasma , te penetra sin dolor físico y cuando a consumido ya tu espíritu . . .se va!!!
Se puede vivir de odiar
Pero no de amar.
Decía Oscar Wilde que el amor es más fuerte que la muerte.
Deja que muera el diaDeja que muera el díaDeja que muera el dia in Free Verse More Like This
Tan lleno de almas frías!!
Tan cargado de mentiras!!
Espera a la noche . . .
Amiga . . .
La verdad se oculta entre muros de orgullo y pamplina.
A los hijs de la noche
Los que guardan la verdad oculta en sus pupilas.
Para ells es fría la luz del día
Para ells que se mueren sin mostrar alegría
Para las almas engañadas y las puertas cerradas , va dedicada esta melodía.
Y salen de sus escondites y saludan a los hijs de la noche . . . Esos que dicen no tienen alma . . .esos que dicen de mirada perdida.
Para tí que te ocultas de mí
Para mí que me oculto de tí
Para la fantasía
Para la noche
Para la idiota que me guía
Para la culpa que me esquiva
Para la gente que me olvida
Para la noche . . .hasta nunca dia!!!
The corruption of dreamsAt nightThe corruption of dreams in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
we dream of faraway stars
but warm up
at the light of candles
Terminal frostI am contemplating stillness. A desolate and flat land breathing an unnatural silence.Terminal frost in Short Stories More Like This
The ploughed dirt has taken monstrous shapes as if the hand of a tormented sculptor wanted to impress his agony on this land.
The traces of my footsteps are long gone, probably blown away by the blizzard. And the snow... the snow is a dirty white. It doesn't even have that feel, the one I remember from childhood. It crumbles in my hands, like sand. The sky is also grey and if it weren't for distant trees you would not be able to place the horizon in the picture.
Everything is frozen. The trees have frozen, birds on branches frozen too, looking quiet and at peace.
I have to move now. I remember I was going somewhere... North... I think. I'm in no hurry, but I've seen all I can from this point. My hands are a bit cold, but it's bearable. Chest feels warm enough and the walk will get my heart pumping again.
It's going to be a hard winter. Hard for the land... hard for the trees... h
Locus SolusI sometimes recall a particular morning from childhood. I was in my grandparents' home - a big house, with large empty walls and high ceiling. It was a lazy winter morning. The sun was coming shyly through the shades. A heavy silence all around. I did not dare to move in my bed, afraid that I'd somehow ruin that order of the world. In all that stillness I suddenly noticed a small spider crawling on a wall. I thought it was cute for some time, until the immensity of that empty wall hit me like a hammer. The slowly advancing spider had walked alone up to that point and it still had a lot of empty ground to cover. I whispered "The world is a lonely place, little spider". And I cried for him. But the little spider didn't even notice me. And that, in turn, made me feel alone.Locus Solus in Emotional More Like This
'Mechanics''Mechanics' in Free Verse More Like This
Clouds think that their movement in the sky is a result of their will to move.
We are all oblivious to invisible winds.
'Solitude''Solitude' in Free Verse More Like This
the familiar wailing of a saxophone on a side street on a rainy day.
the last building on the left, with a heavy wooden door... and no windows.
words... walls of concrete covered in concrete words
that mean absolutely nothing.
pedestrians walk up and down the street and partake
in the exchange of distant glances with approaching people.
among the myriad of cold raindrops.
The reality conjecture. Monolithic dreamsWhen you live so long among dreams,The reality conjecture. Monolithic dreams in Free Verse More Like This
they start shaping your reality
When you live so long without...
reality shapes you
'The Fall''The Fall' in Free Verse More Like This
We are falling from the top of a thousand storey building.
The girl to my left dreams of flying.
The guy in front can only feel the wind in his face.
I mostly contemplate the concrete below.
We get distracted by the occasional passage of birds.
On the horizon clouds gather in marvelous shapes. I smile and tell them about it. They look and smile back at me.
Abruptly the horizon disappears.
The concrete is soft and welcomes us.
And nature celebrates our Fall.
'Carne'întunericul se lasă'Carne' in Free Verse More Like This
și o ființă agilă
cu luciri pe pielea albă
și canini de lapte - sânii,
avansând ca o felină
se propagă-n încăpere
ca un val ce se va sparge
împroșcând în jur cu spumă
de faleza ce de veacuri
o așteaptă doar pe ea...
două turnuri mari, lucioase,
zgârie a mele coaste,
mâna îmi coboară-n cercuri
iară carnea se desface
ca o floare neștiută
și cuprinsă de o foame
mă înghite, mă sufocă,
umezită de sudoare
vrea să fie frământată
și călcată in picioare
'my Night''my Night' in Free Verse More Like This
I make constructs
draining the light
of an eccentric candle
but suddenly the night moves
into an impossible morning
and dreams dissolve in the wake
of an atomic sun
haintsplaces are batteries. more precisely, capacitors. imbibing the current of emotion as a memory.haints in Free Verse More Like This
storing the charge until such a time as it is over-loaded or catalyzed. then, spilling its ephemeral contents into the mind; the knock in the wall, the cold space on the stairs, the translucent figure wafting past the door...places are batteries.
we see what we wish
is all around us
adopt this poem...look! i found a thread!adopt this poem... in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a clue, a trail of bread-crumbs...
hmm...where does it go?
Autumn WishShe built a house of willow woodAutumn Wish in Free Verse More Like This
under the hushed October sky
and scattered moonstones
in the reeds along the river banks
and prayed for Autumn's sighs,
to shake the west wind from her bones.
She still yearns for summer's brilliance
caught between the ocean's rocky shoals,
and gathers seashells
from the sand among the seaweed bed,
and prays for Autumn's soul
to haunt where once her bare feet tread.
Fear of FlyingThe minute he stepped off the planeFear of Flying in Free Verse More Like This
he thought of her and how she hated
flying - how the white metal protruded
and streamlined around her,
anxious to be friends;
how the engine gasped in awe
as it buckled the weight of 234
strangers and kept them from floating
She was afraid of crashing and of caring
what clothes she packed in matching
luggage that would not make it home.
She hated the folding trays,
how they all stood at attention
and the smell of mint souring the stewardess'
breath as she leaned in too far with a pack of
He reminded her that the wings were
sturdy girders, not made of balsa wood and floss
like the ones at the museum and that
the drone was some sort of science -
not some strange addiction
or a scheme of addled magic bumping against the
and that falling always took
the wrong kind of courage.
PlaygroundPlayground in Free Verse More Like This
All that autumn her ghost haunted the playground;
no wisping phantom, but strident bits and pieces
clamoring for attention - a pair of black patent
leather shoes waiting expectantly by the teeter-totter.
And Sister Teresa had to pry red woolen mittens
off the jungle gym every morning.
Jimmy Boyle kept seeing her sweater at the swings,
its green wooly arms daring him to go higher
and trying to tag him "it".
And her best friend, Jenny Black
could see the flash of her pigtails
throwing copper across the kickball field
where recess waited to swallow them.
The toys vanished from the sandbox every evening
leaving nothing but a soft trail of disappointment
in their wake -
their accusations of neglect
and longing crouched under the
maple trees, swarming with the bees.
But winter proved a discordant grave -
the protest of frozen ground
an errant melody in the schoolyard
and her shoes kept shrinking
and stumbled down the slide,
leaving a thick crust of frost
like somber tracks that said good-bye
RainRain in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Rings and rivulets of water
Rolling down the panes and roof
Running wildly through the gutters
Resting underneath the porch
Raking wet across the shutters
Remaining still for far too long
Restless children yearn to play
Happy Ending?Rode into the sunset...Happy Ending? in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A Mother laments her Childs Logic and HygieneFear of vacuuming?A Mother laments her Childs Logic and Hygiene in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
That's a phobia?!
After a hard day's workSaved the world.After a hard day's work in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
...Now for tea.
Lament of Evil One on the edge of World DominationWell, I never!Lament of Evil One on the edge of World Domination in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Again I'm thwarted!
You breeze through my lifeYou ebb and flow,You breeze through my life in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This