Stranger

Will you ever dare to be mine?

 

Will you let your body feel how it feels?

Will you let me caress your surrender?

Will you hope for a future with no fear?

 

Will you ever dare, my sweet man?

 

Will you ever care if I’m hurt?

Will you ever think about me?

Will you ever let me in an inch at a time?

Will you ever let life hold us by the hand?

 

Will you ever dare, my sweet man?

 

Will you exchange worries for roses?

Will you speak hope instead of pity?

Will you struggle less and love more?

Will your hand stroke mine in extasis?

 

Will you ever dare, my sweet man?

Waterfalls

Waterfalls,

let’s paint waterfalls together, shall we?

You’ll stay put as you do,

airs of good boy shouting out;

I’ll feel safe and break down,

tears of fear falling abound,

waterfalls for your walls,

waterfalls, magic power,

making the pain and the tears seem ok.

 

Waterfalls would do,

alive and salty, vibrant,

full of rage or sadness,

shame, courage and faith,

waterfalls from tears

I wish to paint

in your big walls.

 

Let’s paint them together, shall we?

ClosEr

I’d get closer, I would,

but my iron me backfires,

I’d show you tenderness,

I would, I’d do a thousand times,

but my iron clad may break

into pieces boring my entrails.

And I’m scared.

I would show you my fragility,

my love, my open crudest soul,

I would, I’d do so if you wait,

if you ask my iron mask to fall.

 

I’m nearly ready,

partly collected, partly confused,

I’m nearly ready

to show you my scars

and let you lick them

like an angel.

 

I’m nearly ready

to open my arms

and let you show me no fear

but thoughtful choice and

a key to heaven.

 

I will show you I’m brave,

I will show you I’m worth it,

I will show you I’m ready,

I will show you I love you.

 

Will  you hold my pain

or will my iron scarf bore your sweet eyes

into doubt and despair?

Pain

I’ve no reason to be in pain,

but I am,

would knowing a reason lessen it?

Maybe, but pain is pain,

and in pain I am,

without a reason,

wondering what it is about,

making reasons for none,

to see if I can lessen it,

but it won’t.

I am in pain,

a pain that’s ancient and rolls inside,

a pain that makes me turn around,

turning like a swirl of past times,

crying like a Magdalene

with no reason to cry.

A pain without reason,

is king of my mind,

I’ll move my body

to float and get out.

Musa de viaje

Musa se fue de viaje,

byebye darling,

y no me llevó con ella.

La he de esperar con ritos satánicos,

la he de esperar con altas barreras,

la he de esperar con olores a muerto,

la he de esperar con espadas afiladas,

la he de esperar con ágiles patadas,

la he de esperar con insultos tajantes,

la he de esperar con uñas guerreras,

la he de esperar con felinas garras,

la he de esperar con aguas hervidas,

la he de esperar con gritos infernales,

la he de esperar, si vuelve,

mejor que no vuelva.

No me llevó con ella Musa,

que se fue de viaje,

la he de esperar forever.

Weak mEmory

If I wasn’t in such a hurry

I would have stopped and followed

your eyes to the abyss of your mystery;

I would have read in your words

the palaces behind your swears,

I would have loved your hands

not daring to be touched by an angel.

 

If I was living beside you,

I would have heard your silence

as an important sign from heaven;

I would have shouted at you

when your arms were forgetting my contour;

I would have christened you

with names only known to us both.

 

I would have done sounds like

an unfulfilled duty broken by time.

I would have done and I actually did.

I stopped and followed,

I read your words,

I loved your hands,

I lived around,

I shouted and christened you,

a silent figure of daily discontent.

Muse, sopla!

Hoy me huelo a podrido por dentro,

un olor fuerte, pronunciado, intenso,

un sentimiento de completa derrota,

se acabó, no podrás ser nunca nada,

hacer reír a nadie,

hacer soñar a nadie,

lograr algo en tu vida.

Una derrota que transparenta,

un inodoro sonido para las gentes,

acuosa inundación dentro de mi ser,

se acabó, no puedo más, basta!

El olor se altera en cuanto ve a Muse,

pero no se retrae, posa abierto,

lo sabía, parece querer decir,

algún día presenciaría tu caída,

lo sabía, susurra, por si Muse fuese yo,

por si fuese fácil de arrinconar como yo,

por si fuese posible vencerla con el olor

y el miedo de la derrota.

Muse ignoró el olor

y sonrió,

abrió la boca

y comenzó a soplar.

El olor desapareció.

Rima – Rhyme

Mi vida rimada,

my life in rhyme,

quiero plantarla,

I want to plant

with bicolor seeds,

con semillas bicolores,

with bilingual tongues,

con lenguas bilingües

y risueñas canciones,

and smily songs.

Mi vida rimada,

my life in rhyme,

produce latidos flojos,

soft heartbeats creates

while searching for meaning perhaps,

mientras busca un sentido quizás.

My life in rhyme

is not always truthful,

mi vida rimada

no siempre dice la verdad,

tomando otras caras,

rimando otras voces,

rhyming other voices,

taking other faces

to avoid being naked,

para evitar el desnudo

del alma en un poema,

in soul in a poem.

Mi vida rimada,

my life in rhyme,

is juice for a blessed calix,

es zumo para un cáliz bendito,

es salud y paz,

peace and health,

in the end, al final.

Nostalgia

I wish I could spit it all,

hate and love for a person not deserving,

anger and demons feeling at home

in my sadness and my juices.

I wish I could throw you up,

guilt and shame in the mix,

and a sweet voice telling me

I was also taken over by rage,

I was also responsible for your pain.

You tried and I tried,

but no one taught us how to love

or we forgot.

Feeling unworthy and threatened,

we lied, we kicked, we died.

We forgot love comes from acceptance,

openness and silence.

Rocking chair

Rockety-rock, rockety rock,

in my chair I conquer

the hearts of those

who are yet to be born.

Rock, rock, rockety-rock

rockety, rockety rock,

in my chair I dream the life

of those who are yet to become,

rock, rock, rockety rock.