Memorabilia

Fear is induced, not intrinsic
‘One man’s trash, is another man’s treasure’
It’s a wave crashing the survivors
Death in itself a life, survival

The sound of the bugle
Lets you hold on to the feeling
Stunted growth, yellow leaves
An oak tree poisoned by your baggy sleeves

An old man counting his own wrinkles
He knows what he’s looking at,
A red carpet turning blue
A shiny armour, baggage rusted

The quicker you slay the demon
The more you tempt the alpha
The more calculated each growl; for territory
Under your den

You have created a shelter
For the wicked
You have sealed unread warnings
Without remembering their name

A name
A calling
And it’s their head that turns
When you applaud the random

Don’t rub it in, don’t praise the thumb
It’s the detailed print, embarking spaces left for the wild winds
Memorabilia
Sticky feet on the walk of Fame

The effect that makes you cringe
The lies that make you smile
Window shopping by the dead sea
Tasting nothing but salt

A mad dog, unleashed
Barking at its own reflection up the sky
The pursuit of a noble pursuit
Makes you lose grip of the moral

Raise your head, lower your eyes
‘Don’t look at me’
Looking at the enemy, makes you lose focus
Of the idea you’re defending

Cards unfolding, spreading at the turning table
A locker screaming open its own code
Jacks and queens, bow down to the Joker
It, unable to laugh twice at the same joke

Kiss their feet with your tongue
As if mint could ever cover the filth
Be a foul mouth, be absurd
Crossing the line, is not a literal term anyway

Trying to figure myself out, in others
Pictures capture your entire soul
Each shot a mystery of unlit rooms
Red flags are not alarming, they bring out the dangers whitin yourself

You don’t see seeds rupture as they bring forth a tinier seedling
Just tonight, they lit the underground world
With the birth of a no name
Another pretend, claiming to be an original…

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Óyeme

Pobre, pobre el manantial que dejó tus lluvias llorar
Hasta hacerlo crecer, vagabundar e inundar,
el mar en el que derretías tu frío
Incluso el cual en el que ahogabas tu dulce amargura

Hace ya bastante tiempo, que dejé de pensar en lo que pudo ser
Suelto ya las cuerdas; mías hasta el olvido, tuyas hasta que la memoria me permita

Me dejo balancear, ya ni que pierda la dirección que me guía
Ya ni que sepa por dónde fuera, por dónde viniera y a quien emborrachaba con mi llegada

Será lo inesperable, será un sufrimiento sin deber
Como el animal encerrado por su belleza y no su bestialdad
Por dejarlo hambriento sin que sepa como cazar
Y tú, separandote cada vez más de tu condenada igualdad

Talvez y hay de esos que lo hallan visto todo
Que no se sorprendan con las pequeñas enseñanzas del amanecer
Como las paredes que tiemblan al ver rostros secos
Por beber la inocencia de tantos sin nada que esconder

No sé como explicarte, óyeme
Reconoce el tono que se usa cuando Dios entra al corazón…

Instincts speak a language of their own

You try to know all that doesn’t want to be known

Conclusions based on what they say and do, and what they don’t

Backing off, bulls jerk backward, away from the red, the phonies

Back to square one, their instincts create hierarchies with their horns


‌Mistaken realizations; the finer ideas of wrong

Were not merely in doing wrong, but in not feeling wrong

Uncertainties of the right, were not in doing right

But feeling right, when in clear wrong


Please. Let the wolf win. Let it mingle in its pride

If I define triumph to the pack, the costs to leave behind

I would already have missed the evening meal, twice

A cycle giving birth to new ideologies overnight


A garbage heap looks the same no matter where it is

A language is misinterpreted equally where it is understood, and where it’s learnt

Pencils bend where graphite lacks, instead of the other way around

The more down-to-earth, the colder the chills as dawn rips the sky in two