El sentir

Humo tras humo, trago tras trago, asi se acumulan las nubes formando nuestro retrato. Voy subiendo a mi espacio donde solo existe el recuerdo. Tiro mi vestido, pongo mi titulo al lado y me aparto del presente. Entro al cuarto de palabras nunca olvidadas, enterradas en mi piel, las veo marcadas por el tiempo, pisoteadas por el ayer. Preguntas que regresan aun sabiendo respuesta, como el borracho que se devuelve y demanda por mas alcohol sin haber pagado pasadas cuentas.
Una verdad concreta es lo que quieres obtener.
Un sentimiento no abstracto que se pueda ver. Lo que buscas es un motor interno que te ayude a creer, en mi otra vez. La verdad es que lo que hoy existe no tiene nombre ni forma.
Un sentimiento talvez borrado, desecho por nuestros errores. Si me preguntas lo que siento la respuesta depende del dia, pues aveces mi cuerpo te extraña de formas que ni entenderias. 
Esto no tiene esperanza concreta, no es respuesta de Si o No, es una espera de mil lunas y noches de lluvia si tienes el valor.
Heridas vivas y listas para volver como la puerta de mi salida que me llama a mi presente otra vez. Me pongo mi vestido, mi titulo y mi orgullo y vuelo de regreso rompiendo el humo de nuestro ayer.

La debilidad del Coraje

Es una pregunta 

de dos partes.

La felicidad deriva 

de una de estas, 

dado que el coraje 

enciende en la alegria 

el sentimiento de conformación 

y orgullo.

Nietzsche una vez dijo 

Que nuestras pasiones 

no deben ser limitadas 

mientras estas esten 

manejadas por la razón. 

Si en parte este 

fuera el caso, 

el coraje no seria 

solo alegria 

pero rabia, celos y odio.

La razón, conformada con 

la consciencia, decide el 

contenido suficiente que

Derrochamos ante nuestro coraje, 

entregando las gotas 

suficientes que no 

lastiman el alma.

O talvez, 

la conciencia dirige la via

de aquel contenido, 

convirtiéndolo en energia positiva.

Pero si esta no 

soluciona la parte dos 

de la pregunta podriamos 

enfocarnos en porque 

contemplamos la debilidad 

con el defecto

en la misma categoria. 

Lo defectuoso no es débil

asi como el alma tierna

por ser pequeña no esta incompleta. 

Es la esencia del coraje lo cual nos hace débil. 

El coraje es el luchar 

por ser feliz y 

su debilidad es 

el mantener el alma pura 

y brillante.

Silence

Silence, 

an arm so powerful and quite disturbing at last,

which thinks of lull times yet to come and elaborates images of what is no there. The difference lays in the past and the present, "the black and white" as I call it. 

For there has always been a past in which silence has opened the door to lustful lips and passionate touches or dropped tears that recall lost souls, 

painful goodbyes or vanished material love.

Silence,

don't we fear thee, whether it brings good or bad news, whether you perdure in the present or rejoice in the past. The truth and lies you hide and put to light, always change or reaffirm a suffering or a greatness damned to whom aught to listen, see or feel.

Silence,

in the need to find the unknown you awake the excitement of a life but not dare to lie because the present will always uncover your past, without shame. Notwithstanding knowing this truth will drag thou destiny to hell, your destiny to an end because your beginnings are powerful but not limitless.

Ragdoll

As the old pictures waiting to be hanged,
As the cloth of last night's dinner,
Always waiting more of me,
But my heartfelt words have offered just enough.

What was never said will dissolve in tea,
as the cheater who says "never again"
I'm feeling trapped in this prison of love.
But on the road of oblivious will I belong if
I ever renounce this statement of love.

I would face the devil, without doubt,
if that is what it took to see your face when I speak.
You're simply everything I want
but I lose you completely between my silences.
My eyes are two black crosses that have never spoken,
My heart full of cruel distress and I,
a misunderstood ragdoll.

Every silence is a cloud that flies away behind me,
with a nonstop mourn. I wanna tell you what I feel for you
without a fear. And may the moon be my guest when I say
that I love you with the same passion in which
January witnessed our love.

I am not afraid of the eternal fire
nor to it's bitter stories of love but
silence is such a cold feeling. And my
winters are already so long.

Your return seems far, still
laying in between the verses of a cheap tango song
and undebatable this sincere heart that belongs to you,
can die intact as the soul of a ragdoll.

*Inspired by Oreja De Vang Gogh
Muñeca De Trapo*

Hope in our venue

I've never thought love
could mean so little to me
as it does nowadays. Your words have no
inspiration to my dreams, anymore.
It might be my eyes; tired of loosing
sleep trying to understand you or
maybe my so called feelings are finally
fading as I once wished they would.

I don't want to sound like a hypocrite
but even when I say I love you,
I can't feel the spark anymore.
I search for more than hopes,
I search for fire. The one that sets
the music to my soul and takes me away.
But as I reach my favorite place in the sky,
I no longer find you there.

Falling in love is magical but falling
out of love is tragical. I've loved you
for so long that I can't remember what
it was like to not be in love with you.
But what can we do now that your plan
to keep me close, took away all of
what belonged to you.

Help me find my way back to you.
Help me pursue hope in our venue again.
Take my hand and never again let go,
cause that might be our last chance to be in love.

Give Me

Those words that linger in your
tongue can cure all of my soul.
And those eyes have the blues that gives
me hope of a brighter future.
Your lips are the evidence that heaven exists,
impulsing me to sail your body like an ocean
without limits.
In your arms I find the route of strength
to defy the world.
And your voice, so sweet, softens
my cruel nights.
My philosophy and my religion is to search
for a reason to live in your heart.
My only philosophy and religion
is the theory of reaching your soul.
Give me a reason, a sign, give me some of your hope.
Give me your first time, your loneliness, your fears,
your first kiss. Give me everything you have. Give me
a little more of you and I will give you a little more of me.
Give me a minute of your life to find happiness in your heart.

Set those words free.

Au Revoir to my Bonjour

What is France without Bonjour?

It's love without affection, it's a night

without the moon: empty and solitary of a soul.

It is a kiss never given or words never spoken and 

if so, there is no moment that can give back the real

Bonjour. 

France would then, no longer mean anything to the lovers 

neither to the dreamers or to the painters. It's no longer a 

description of what used to be happiness but rather empty actions of lust. 

France without Bonjour it's what I call you; 

with your attitude so carefree that makes me 

feel so weak, with your so called reality that reminds me 

of empty streets in Berlin. And your smile of a king....That gives it all away.

"Bonjour" I say to you but, there is no hello in a goodbye like this,

cause my France has been destroyed for lack of faith and

hope for this love. "Au Revoir France"