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To Destiny World

Hey, hey flying world
missing is the stop that I would take
sleeping is the sky where I’ve been born…
living just the day I returned home.

Hey hey world of black
your indifference makes me grow
I do forgive your scar soul
but would not forget your death in my eyes…
that day I returned home.

Hey, hey dyeing universal smile
as much more impatient you are
I stop the sun to turn around my land of shine
I break the rules of your switched-on living breath
and ruin the dreams you planned so strictly projecting…
those days I returned back, home, home lack.

Hey hey you world, world out of the World,
stop to stare the snack you left behind your nights
a bunch of hungry dogs eat your breakfast illumine
a pair of broken shoes waits for you to use them first day of your birth
a smell of rose perfume is everywhere around expecting you to fall
my doors are wide open at the begging of your dreams…
so my way will be back behind at the day I’ve been born, those day the home I knew haven’t been gone.

Rio sin sentir, cabalgas
la montaña, tras aguas transparentes,
escondes,
mirada pálida y triste
perdida en tu ruta.
Hoy es de noche, duerme el bosque,
tus peces callados y solitarios
aguardan…
Hoy el horizonte destierra
al sol,
hoy el sol desafía al horizonte.
Tus aguas abastecen un encuentro,
el cielo colorea tu fondo negro,
tu luz es la del amanecer,
el amanecer es del de tu nombre.
Rio sin destino
amanece hoy en las costas de mar
olvida éste de sus fronteras
y corre, a tu encuentro.
En diluvio inunde la tierra
en éste último día, el monte
recuerda a su amo,
reclama a los cielos…
a que aguarden un día más
un día más para que caiga la lluvia,
de los paraísos, del vino divino
y ahoguen los Dioses sus penas
en ti Río.
-Río,
de sonrisa fugaz, pícara
de abrazar primero de esas tierras virgen.-

“Diluvio”

Sail the Ship

Walking, walking, across the river, or the ocean
I’m confused
I’m amused, but sun goes down, at the end of the day it falls – down
Walking, starving, crossing the bridge of purple, purple roses
I’m amazed,
I’m released, but at the edge begins same pale land, same pale pale sand
Hoping to be along the way I took at the beginning, I see it seems is different day today
Is different way, today,
I haven’t confused the start line; no I haven’t take wrong ticket home
But it seems, it isn’t same road as the one I have chosen a day before,
Behind my back now, back before the lack of dreams or spies in the dark.
I call a stranger to land me a map of his past,
He chooses to go far far and never show the meaning of the sketches he drew
There’s in no map to follow, just few lines a stranger drew, on the back of a paper, used for telephone notes about someone’s just he knew…
Am I lost, how may I be sure if the only page I keep is the one I’ll need, than when road will end?
Am I the only ghost, meant to be the key without a door to be opened with?
“Learn to fly!” a golden bird sang to me, “lean to die” – golden bird burned in to my hand in tiny word.
I whispered a shy tale and the wind blows me up straight to the highway storm and it said “good luck”
Good Luck! – is all I got, down a burned hand and mistaken way
Good luck is what I thought, a stranger once made me see in sketched paper say
Good Luck to you too, you who forgot to turn away,
when land was telling you to stay, and you turned back and sailed your ocean straight further of your day.

Hablando de norte y sur
mirando rincones, plazas o trenes
de antigüedad del hoy, o ayer
sacándole sentido a todo cuanto fue,
es o hubiera.
Sonríes quizá de verdad, quizá de costumbre
quizá, quizá pero que sabré yo
lo que tu mente torna alrededor…
Saltando fronteras en casas de gente cultural
mirando rincones donde la gente suele fijarse,
simplemente por ver…
Tomando minués baratos por “capricho” que tuve, o dos
preguntas si la calle es la que fue antes de que la mirara yo
te pierdes sonriente confundiendo mi ser – del ayer
hablas de guerras, de vidas o costumbres habituales de ti
de ti, de ti quizá… pero que sabré yo de lo que torna tu mente
en mi alrededor.
…buscándole yo tres pies al gato
y tú diciendo feliz que tuvo este dos
después de lo que yo lo confirmo aun más decidida
tú me confirmas que sí que son tres
Pero dime en que piensas tras las ventanas de tren
dime si en la noche la radio repite voces que recuerdas, quizá
quizá, quizá me digas un día
o quizá jamás te pregunte del ayer o sepa decirte del hoy
pero dime si te abrazo… si crees que sabes qué se yo de mi o de ti
dime en qué piensas al reírme tontamente como si fuera ayer
Quizá, quizá yo te responda a las preguntas que no sé
quizá si hablas se menos de mi que lo que tú en mi ves
quizá es un sueño que yo exagero y reitero, seguir
quizá lo ponga blanco tras negro para darle verdad
quizá no sepa nada dar o encontrar ruta de mar.
Pero tú dime si brújula usaste alguna vez
alguna cuando tu no quieras decirme, o decirte a ti
o al mundo y que le importa a éste acaso…
Recuerdo una tarde que soñaba hace ya no recuerdo cuánto
de música sin oír y dos de nosotros durmiendo sin más decir
y colores pálidos de ver tras alegre sol tras ventanas matiz
y recuerdo esa misma tarde no hará mucho gracias a ti
puedes creerme o no pero es de las que me hizo creer
que algunos sueños quizá sean aunque fuera por días tres ¿o son cinco?
qué sabré yo de eso si no se ni de lo que es no temer
y tu preguntarás como hiciste de qué miedo tendré
aunque jamás lo pronunciaste al pie
y yo, me confundiré y me confundiré
quizá porque no sé, porque olvidé o no supe recordar
Sonríes quizá de verdad, quizá de costumbre
quizá, quizá pero que sabré yo
Mis recuerdos divagan, es tarde, se pierden sin más entre mi enfoque
tus recuerdos divagan también pero no se no pensar en ellos
y por ello temo de ser como soy sin saber de dónde amanece
el día de la gran batalla en la que mi enemigo soy yo
Se quizá no entenderás, pero tampoco importa aquí
e intento ver tras tus ojos azul oscuro , cuando no quiero saber sino
solo ver porque el saber ciega, sabes tú
y naci para pintar y no escribir
pero es una carta que te mando pues pintar ya olvidé
me perdonarás espero aunque quizá, quizá no sepa
si sonríes quizá de costumbre, de verdad o de pensar lo que hay.

“De una caja…”
“Azul”
Azul, recuerdo quizá tres, azules, con lo que mi, perdón tú, colección de azules, no sobresalte los tres azules… Recuerdo un azul marino, un azul celeste, un azul sin nombre… pero acaso hablaba de tres azules, y cite, de “un” azul… sea como fuere, en realidad cada “un” azul eran remolino de muchos recuerdos, entorno un día en concreto… Me pregunto con qué, cosa, un día es capaz de concentrar la paleta de varios azules, en una vista que rememorase yo aquí.
Y un azul, fue marino, sí, pero peco de recordar aquel mar que no he visto aun, o cual presumo recordar de mi infancia… aunque aquello no atañe, pues querías tú de un azul celeste ¿español? – quizá, quizá me digas tú…
Y un azul, bien celeste será, pero temo mirar al cielo, porque de su dulzona naturaleza, envieja a la pobre alma que le admira. Sé yo de un azul al atardecer, cuando semeja el cielo en tinta sumergido, y semeja el cielo en otro mundo regocijarse, y semeja también a la inquietud del espíritu… dar nacimiento. Hay más azul, allá arriba, pero cada vez, agote mi impaciencia y eche un reojo allá, arriba, ese azul que hay, es dulzona su naturaleza, y es el sol quien nombra un camino que me haga dar mis pasos, por decididos.
¿Es el sol un azul? – quizá sea. Yo dibujé uno en mi pared, en mi habitación, hace no mucho, y es azul sí, y su cielo, es tan amarillo como tú, si quieres puedes creerme. ¿Es éste un azul no nombrado? ¿Un azul sin nombre? – que viene a ser justo lo contrario… Lo dudo.
____
Y dime, una caja, ¿azul?
O dime, una caja, ¿en azul?
O es una caja, ¿encerrando azul?
O soy yo quien ha de encerrar, un azul, ¿en la caja, ésta?
_____
Si me pidieras fabricarte una caja, tal como la quisieras, y te mandara azul, allí, en su interno dominio oscuro, la haría tan pequeña que no sepas abrirla, y tan pequeña, que no sepa yo ver el azul que poso en ella. Para que pueda yo olvidar su matiz, y para que sepas tu ver, su color.
_____
“Una escultura pictórica”
“Azul”

A face of blue sunny spark
dreaming to follow the world till his ending steps
when the rainbow comes to the ocean sunrise.
The dolphins are born there – where the rainbow fells
and on the back of yellow dolphin
I saw a face of blue sunny spark.
Bluish is the earth today
and sunny are the seas
funny is the thing to be
and smiling is the world, to me, per one time
today
when I see
a face of blue sunny spark.
Say to me what for to cry
I think I forgot today.
Say to me what for to say good bye
I think I go nowhere these days.
Say to me what for to think in the empty blowing winds
I think a smile in my empty plate made me feel.
Say to me why it should be in a different way
I think is new century today of flying highways with expanded wings.
Say to me why should I fell in to abyss of blur
I think I missed the time when it begun, and I’m here now
In front of face of blue sunny spark.

Child,
Born in earthly land,
Who teaches you about love?
Who told about imagination?
Tell me child,
Why if you are born alone,
Expect to see yourself in an earthly mirror?
Tell me child,
Why since the beginning of time
You ask yourself what are you doing here
Tell me child, why are you searching for the reason
To be free
Who asked you to behave?
Humanly?
So you can believe in love
So you can imagine to dream
Child,
Born in earthly land.
Even the destiny,
The death,
Your birth
The love
Even the hope
Are nothing you knew before arriving here
Remember child, what you have been
Before to be
And you’ll feel to be free
That you will be
Do not forget to look
Further than those you see, those they talk about, the ones who were already here
and do not forget those you dream about
With each waking up
In this land which belongs to nobody
And to nobody will be
Till the awakening
Of a child
In earthly land.

A face of blue sunny spark
dreaming to follow the world till his ending steps
when the rainbow comes to the ocean sunrise.
The dolphins are born there – where the rainbow fells
and on the back of yellow dolphin
I saw a face of blue sunny spark.
Bluish is the earth today
and sunny are the seas
funny is the thing to be
and smiling is the world, to me, per one time
today
when I see
a face of blue sunny spark.
Say to me what for to cry
I think I forgot today.
Say to me what for to say good bye
I think I go nowhere these days.
Say to me what for to think in the empty blowing winds
I think a smile in my empty plate made me feel.
Say to me why it should be in a different way
I think is new century today of flying highways with expanded wings.
Say to me why should I fell in to abyss of blur
I think I missed the time when it begun, and I’m here now
In front of face of blue sunny spark.
..
A flying man
I imagine his flight to break in to light of stunning steps
I imagine his fight to be last on earth and his breath to be autumn spell
I flying man
I imagine his sight to be his foggy soul and sparkling eyes
I saw a man, the last day I was dreaming and I saw
A flying man
I saw no wings, I saw no fly, I saw no winds, and I saw no spreading of dust
But a soft imagination blow me up
But
A flying man was calling me sleep with the eyes wide open
No voice, no tone, no melody and no shutting down lights
But I can listen, I can dream, I can swim in between my falling skies
I think I see, I think I still feel, I think keep on my own feet
And imagine
A flying man
A dying broken road
A cracking past
A stunning new sun
Waiting me to cross my own limit
And break down
My past
Hold on, while I spread my helicopter wings
Hold on, while I build them back
Hold on, because I will be going
Those ways I want.
…

I left, in the garage of the sun; I left a watch with missing hand
in fact it wasn’t missing, but I stole it the day that sun raised up
in a garage, garage of my imagination, but that street where it was placed was real
Turned the watch, day and night was rounding, but just the minutes passed by
I wore the hour in my pocket, thru years the time I speeded away
and time ended up carrying my way to the sea
to the infinite face of ancestral doom, an end I never thought exists
At the rocky coast was found a garage, it was same as I remember it, in that real street
but more real was the sea coast, of the sunset, set of madness bad
I found a watch, broken there where sea ended up to be
and took out of my pocket the hour hand, which I kept per long, I put it on the watch, and it turned, turned round and back
But time ended up speeding my way to the sea
I´ve drown one watch there, to the coast of the sea
there where darkness said is the emperor.
–
I remember left a towel never used, in foreign place I left it and abandoned it for ever
I remember left a cigarette without be smoked till the end, those day when I haven’t smoke at all I left it, blow away
I remember left a switched on lamp in a room I never went to enter into
and I left a dog’s chain, abandoned I left it
and I left a bell, a broken bell I left
and a piano key without repair I left
and a street without to be ended, I took for finished.
–
I think I wear a watch, but reversed it is
I think to know the morning with every waking up
I think to find a sense to time, which misses find my way
The time, the lost time, that walks, without get in to the face
of all that which would be almost perfect theater play.
I think to clean that new watch surface, so not to forget
I think to see a sun thru an awakened sky, without to forget
but I don’t know, those that it was
but I don’t know, those that I know
about years when I’ve heard sing my dreams real songs
I’ve seen almost to touch a day of “Paz”, while laughing at the lazy man and thought to me to fly.
–
I remember left in a garage without exits, I left a broken watch, missing one hand
in fact it wasn’t missing but I stole it the day I closed its door
and to the so real street where it was placed, I took it for finished, without begin to walk it yet
I took it for ended, without even give a look, a plane good bye to explain.

Worldy

Man was made a sheep in suit
weeping eyes of whale, believe
broken hands in empty pockets
feet thru wisdom to be nothing
dirty highway sinking down
empty breath while bear a clown
stolen past and story edges
birth in no one’s land for ages.
–
Man was made a rhinoceros
stealing beauty – Prince of zeros
the appeal of lies of apes
promises of empty plates
cracked bridge for dogs and rats
bird-song in a burrito wrap
shot of white disease in summer
destiny was man´s first sorrow.
–
Man was made a dream of him
will to follow, day to win
home of ocean, home of steel
sky of tears and no one´s meal
black beginning at the limit
theater story for the rest
soul in circus was the man
spirit with purpose he would tell.
–
Man was made by reason some
Man was taught the monkeys song
Man was anaesthetized
in eternity of tie sets
people´s weak wings thru a fog
of the human persecution
of man’s sorrowed illusion.
–
Would you say who should be next?
Would you be proud of being that?
Would you believe in your own dreams
when they are making you sleep keen?
Would you spare arms as if you fly
over a simple ground, your smile?

Should I be proud of all of that
mistaken land for no one head?
Should I be last in that circle view
behind a television crew?
Should I invent a dream to keep
myself so straight on my own feet?
Should I to simulate a fly
while I speak or walk in others eyes?
–
Man built a house of suffering fields,
a house that no one would believe
a real to be, a truth, be right,
be closest mirror of nose that bites.
Man built a city, all down his hand,
down order of his perfection land,
false in Mother Nature´s saint plan
false in conceptions of furtherer damn.
Man built his art, his cry – future, past
– wrote it to be seen from all breathing lads.
Man is proud, all he touches is blessed
all that he says is great adventurous test.
–
Did you try to see, bit further, bit most
from your own prison planet, from your own closing doors?
Did you feel to be born, to be real, to be fixed
when yesterday year was thousand eleven and six?
Did you sleep in a house, of the unknown,
of the unimaginable day when you have been born
waking up, without, remembering you,
without remembering them, without being a truth

…closing eyes again,
and again,
and again, to the sun
to the life,
to all us, from repeating
a Feeling in deaf and on surf which is swimming, and swimming.
Far from remember your last stunning steps,
far of following your own rules and gems.
..
Man was made I was told, man was grown
man was known, I was told, man was out worn.
I do not believe that coliseum short story
a irony spectacle, closing scene – a last fight
for a dead civilization, dead future and growth
eyes wide open just in individuals thoughts
dreams performed in particular claim
circus, grotesque, a glory, a lie in a tale.

I’m not sure what is all that about
just can say might have a meaning some
and isn’t me who’ll name it real to be here
and isn’t me who had performed a elegant being.