Until the dust settles

Faceless without gesture

Emotionless with a name, a persona

Clapping hands, overlapping the pull in the air

A mind violating the grayness of colour

Whispering to them that we’re all the same

Spread out wings now delay flight

Disorganized systems cannot disorganize souls

What’s scattered finds pieces drifting with the whole

A mouth pierced in all the wrong places

A head gear, defending camouflage for all the right graces

Until the dust settles

We will miss and keep missing the starting gun

 You have rent overdue, and want to walk on the moon

If only, forgetfulness hadn’t derived from memory

A reality hidden in your self-portrait

Now materialized your hidden fantasies

A picture to show them you were someone

A word to tell them you could speak…


Jaguar without print

Bone on a boneless structure, skeleton-less

Toys lie on a floor, where children walk barefoot no more.

Kites in the middle of rain, flew high

And each drop pierced through them making our eyes wet.

Fate decides, we shall meet in between the wondering

‘I would if I could, but I can’t so I shan’t’; excuses

Miles and miles afar, I see a shadow cornering another shadow

And my mannequins’ signature from afar, letting strings pull an inward war

I’m six feet tall, and I feel six feet empty

I have pale skin, like a jaguar without print

Although you, entwining hair, knotted voice

‘Let some light into that cavern, its already a fire ablaze’

Forming a mirage of waves that speak your name,

temporary fame,

What a shame

Chords of wisdom, dividing a dead end street with a transparent wall

With art, that meant graffiti could now portray what print didn’t

And what reflected back, was us in a crystal,

I have never seen anything as fragile, as ego within ego

Superstitions, like standing beneath an apple tree with your hands open

With a prayer, hoping for some juice

Blame luck, destiny, karma; for a rotten one

There’s a worm in between, a curse through the years

A small one, your root to ungratefulness

None falling; God conspiring against you

The thing is, believer of the skies

You could have reached it yourself with a climb, a stick or a stone, which ever, whenever

Yet, instead, you were like the jaguar without print,

Who thought it was no jaguar at all

Who didn’t roar, who didn’t speed when prey approached

And so it became prey itself

A half filled glass of liquor in a coffee shop…

El arte del engaño

El avión que tomo rumbo algún día tendrá que aterrizar

El grito que desnudo tu ser, ahora destapa el milagro que es esconder

Lo que se siente cuando nada queda

Y lo que se escapa, de las cuerdas que le atas a tus esperanzas

El placer, el placer que sientes cuando alguien te ve cómo te quieres ver

‘Perro que ladra no muerde’

Vendes tu alma tantas veces,

Que ya nadie te la quiere comprar…

Mira, mira nada más lo que causaste

Por irte cuando no debías, por quedarte cuando suponías

Que el hoy quedara como hoy, el mañana talvez un ayer

De ojos que oyen, y voz que ve el susurro del fantasma de tu doble ser

Devuélveme la sed que tuve, antes de probar el rechazo de este mar

Talvez, talvez y siente lo que la lluvia siente en aterrizar

Sobre cultivos que marcan el sol, incompetente, lo verde llorando

Por tener color y no vida, por estar puntiagudo por tanto rugir.

Passengers to the weather

Barefoot, growing raw skin, stepping on pomegranates

Their blood, a seed, torn without trace of a middle or an end

One hand tapping on a window from the inside

Another from the outside

Passenger to the weather in you

Trucks unloaded, heavy with sins

But what we foresee is like a whip lashing without sound

And others strung for a show, supposed cure for the soul

I really cannot understand, how degrees of discrepancies

Can create bonds of similitude, flames kept alive without shivering

This room is warm, yet all I confide in are stripes as patterns

Parallel lines intersecting without ever meeting, stuck

Systems complicated, not from the step-wise, but the shortcuts

A slaughter, a slow decay of eyes calling home

Bring uniformity to this, glue together what crossed its edge

Tenses of the should’ve, could’ve, would’ve are long out of such vocabulary

The finger pointing at you, actually aimed at the door

Keys hanging, it unlocked, your gaze latching at the next big bet

Exposed, you shove your head under your knees. Your plan B and C will not have to depend on A

Winning the person, losing their being

Lemon drops, in a sea of salt

Don’t know which one treats the wound better

You’ll wander, oh you’ll be out on the fritz

Looking for three hots and a flop, every day, every week

The void is meant to be a void, the stain is meant to be a stain

What we turn to stone eventually turns us into headstones

Yet, my mind is a gun jerking with its tail

Like a kite above a breeze letting the float-less float

Me decías?

Ese día, en el cual volviste a decirme

Que las venas en mi piel,

Marcan el borde de mi ilusión

Y por eso, fallan al demonstrar su color

Te olvidaste, de aquella vez,

En que el sueño que robo mi desilusión

A la vez,

devolvió tranquilidad a mi más agotado ser

Me dices, que tus dichos y palabras

Son sabias, son claras

Pero a la vez, Mientras más te escucho

Mas quiero correr

Por el espejismo que me hiciste querer

Y por la conciencia que me hiciste perder