The world is fine

If people wanted to see only the things they wanted to comprehend
They wouldn’t have to go to theaters
Dumpsters would’ve sufficed

My mind
Taking photographs

Staring long enough at a distant shore
Until it reminds me of
the times I discard
Tragedy for comfort
and memory, for bliss

The most forgotten things
Swirl at their own fade
And yet
They run
Towards a spiral
That sucks their age
Only to make them
Younger again

It’s like a cloud that eats another cloud
Because it found itself irresistible
Tasted like cotton candy
But
Puked itself away
Only to
Scatter in the midst
Of pieces
Of its own flesh

Or maybe
A chair that didn’t want to be sat on
Because it was tired of kissing backs

Or fragrance
That didn’t want to be wasted
On odor of the most repulsive kind

Why do people
Have to repaint
What was painted over well at first?
Guess the need to maintain an image
with another image
onto another
makes people think, you have a dynamic personality
And that’s how master pieces are judged
‘Look, I made this mess
Into another mess
So you could see yourself in it
And stare in awe at your own reflection’

Ink
Was tired
Of pouring itself over pure sheets
And wasting itself over rotten thoughts
As if they ever benefited, the need to avoid silence
It wanted
The writers’ fingers
To dip in it
And rub a blot
Over a nose
That had forgotten the smell
Of his own ideas

Could you really
Trip on shoes you wore
two sizes big?
Than why
Do you untangle
Hair
That wants to be braided?

It takes a second heart
To rip a chest wide
And be more
But we gain what we risk
At jeopardy

It’s a twisted thought
A needle
On masses
Of communications
Controlling the whole circuit!
Turn it one way
And only one channel sings
Turn it another
And another hits a home run
Turn it up
And they want it off
Turn it low
Cover your ears
Tell them
Its the signals
that don’t work
The world is fine
The world is fine.

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Unfinished bridges

Emptying a mind

Containing too much

The human mind

Isn’t it amazing?

It can adjust a whole lot to it,

It can adjust anything to it…

And so, you do what you got to do

to give unfrequented thoughts the companionship they need

By reading someone else’s

By trying to fit, into someone else’s.


Sometimes
It’s just a craving
To wind up different clocks
You stopped looking at

They still tick
If you don’t look at something
Doesn’t it become useless?
And yet
The useless
Becomes useful
Only when it’s noticed
By someone
Getting tired
Of his own boredom

It’s pathetic
This habit
‘Beauty, only beauty, when noticed.’
I guess
I fall in love with destroyed places
Because they had once been beautiful
But tragedy happens
And not everything
Wants
To be discovered

Isn’t it true though?
people dig up past
Only when it’s dirty

Isn’t it false though?
People only care
When you care

I feel old
‘Old’
Such a small word
In a big world
And yet
You value its existence
Only when you’re tired
And want youth
To do for you
What you couldn’t do for you.
Like a bridge you built
Unfinished
Almost crossed it
Jumped near it’s end, it still needed a few more bricks
But this youth
Can’t even cross it midway
And yet
You expect them
To build another one
Because after crossing it yourself
You tore it down
And raised a flag
To signal them
That you made it

Red waves
In a sea
Red floods
In a river
The seas now cry
Bloodshed eyes
Why did you slit open a shark in half
Only cause’ you thought it dangerous?
You could’ve limited the lines!
You could’ve put a sign
DO NOT CROSS
YOU TWATS
YOU HAVE 99% OF THE WORLD
LEAVE THIS 1% ALONE

It’s sickening
The need to want to own it all
If I can’t have peace at heart
And you feel peaceful around me
Where would that leave me?
It’s like
‘Hey, I’ve had my lunch
Wanna have dessert’?
While they know
That you haven’t eaten
In three days

And the sad part is
You don’t even like the look
Of your reflection
On a crystal clean
Wiped table
While you wait
For a waiter
Waiting
For his shining armor
To turn into a suit
And sue himself
For marketing the food
He didn’t even like himself.

Nature’s cruelty

Time plays tricks on the mind and soul
Tired of all this itching, claiming to be pure
Maybe the den can call out on all its wolves
And let the full moon mourn over the calls

of all these midnight storms

Idols want to be normal
Maybe fame wants to disappear

I wish the world was gray, but even then,

the ‘gray’ would be grayer even without colour

superior than some, darker than the sun,

lighter than from where we had once begun.

And the rest were easy come, easy go

Dust blew itself away
From books that were read but never understood
And nature collapsed on the floor, into the dirt, beneath its own roots
Asked itself if it was ready to diffuse, away from this abuse

Hunger can never kill appetite
Shame, for you were the fly going after leftovers!
The rest splashed onto oceans like cannonballs, while you only got the spits, the drops

Let’s hear the train of thoughts that went by uninvited,
Tempting the side blood brothers feared to taint

A walking contradiction
A mysterious reason to slow down, to settle down
Why settle down? When discomfort is the sweetest home
Let them be, the crazies, where will they flee?
Prejudice never stood a chance

Couldn’t resist to stare at an owl,

All this time you only wondered as to why it stared at you.

Then later, laughed at yourself when it pissed on your shoulder,

‘Man, nature’s cruel.’

And then you acknowledged the fact that

everything and everyone carried dirty little secrets…

You started wishing to swim in the mud and come out clean
To blindly remove a blindfold and suck the life out of a rabbit hole
To knock on tree trunks for ants to emerge to the surface, 
Then call an anteater to fix the ugly.

Rare days

There are rare days

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When the sun sets before it’s his turn
To go to sleep and let the moon dominate

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A world where there is no sin
But at the same time no blessing

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Glory comes with it
Through stars that sing with their bodies
Like a chameleon seeking fortune
Amidst the sea and blue skies of eternity

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Digging through midnight
Like nightcrawlers
We play
And hijack a few pieces in the leftovers
Of yet another passing light
Mistaken for a movie theatre
We escape moments
Not knowing
Stealing them away was as easy
As making a newborn smile
With a blow from your palms

⋅⋅⋅

We tend to live in a dream
In an arctic
With the land of the mignight sun
How pure
That the sun doesn’t set for half
And the moon for the rest
To give eachother peace
Like ‘hey, you have your dream, I’ll have mine’
How kind
How selfless
For nature to let eachother grow
But for us humans
To strangle eachother
Pierce our bones with
Plastic
And still blame the opposite
For not dying
Yet not surviving enough

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The human mind
Is mesmerizing to
The inside of monsters

we call monsters
You see
It can fit an awful lot of things

to it
Where in a prehispanic era
We didn’t even know it existed

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Kites fly high

somewhere for us

to elevate our character

⋅⋅⋅
I wish children knew
They were signaling us
To let ourselves loose
If we find
The love that’s meant to tie us further to the seventh sky
It doesn’t

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How can you say what Hitler did was evil

and still be ugly to folks right at home?…

I wonder…

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I guess

That it’s not in stainless character
But a canvas
An oil painting
With a thousand layers
Of dirt
Wishing, waiting for the spot on lightning
That will make each stroke worth it
And it’s then
that we’ll live

With eclipses as background

Forever.

Let that sink in

Once you know why you felt what you felt

Let that sink in

Let it remind you not to ever remind you

Of grass that remains dry even with,

grasshoppers willing to give up their name

so they can hop on roses tomorrow,

Like that’ll ever be!

It makes me think of

Legacies of few
that remain as undue
Compared to those
Who lived on hearts that tore
At the very thought of
Independence
Yet dependent
On the blink of an eye
Of a figure of power
To give permission to breathe
To let them be

I wonder what this means
If liberty was at stake of just
Cries for eternities
Wishing for
Bread to bake in seconds
And for crumbles not to burn
For this
Disease of the heart to melt
Because ever since
People molded mud into art
And words into poetry
Riots began
Armies faded
Wars alike
Of the body with the soul
Of the senses with the thought
And the right with the left
Only gave way
To directionless nomads
Living in something as sweet or bitter
As the tear shed for longing
Or the one for reunion or departure

Die death!
Bury yourself
And don’t write your name on stoneheads
Be gone
Disappear
For no one can afford to hang
Like broken branches of a tree
Don’t you see the weight still air carries?

It’s too heavy
And resistance for unthought burdens was petty
It’s as if
Bones were stiff
Denying this city
Was blasphemy
Yet I thought of it
As sacred
And tied my will against a neutral gray
To not fall and burn
In ice
Or drool amongst paper boats
Floating in a river
Made of blood and tar
To poison nervious wrecks
Still provoking devils
Though they needed none of their efforts

All your shelters
And your homes
Attract a thirsty, yet decaying sense of faith
Go be filled with
Whatever witness you can bring
And even your own breathing
The one you mastered meditating for a lifetime
Will suffocate
Will choke
You against your own will
Never did I know
That your fragrance would kill
What once revived for when things were real
Have you ever seen flowers grow on stones?
Have you ever felt the touch of rain in drought,
and for knives to brittle at the touch of your very skin?
Goosebumps like a cactus giving birth…

Walking on thin ice

Winter and summer went extinct

When they thought of what kept them thin

Spring might have been intensifying,

but it was as cruel as someone snatching away scent

from flowers that wanted to be sniffed

By some asthmatic old man, his last wish,

telling us

that he preferred dying from the pollen that already wanted him dead


He was dancing on delicate glass,

and then playing Frisbee with it’s leftovers


And the dumpster that was suddenly noticed

By flashlights

Realized

How pathetic fame was


No matter how much you try and freeze anger

it will erupt

and boil surfaces, already condensed.


It’s like trying to equate the numbers on an equation

One plus negative one

Infamous

Never cancelling

One half only hunches to watch the rest keep a straight posture, boastful


Isn’t that ancient history?

Signs that seagulls and snitches have only found more careful ways

to control their wings with


How far apart are we

Yet feel like boomerangs in mid flight
Uncertain of whether they will ever come back

Uncertain whether it was even us, or something else

that swung them against the abominable breeze

that promised warmth,

but cracked ice instead.


It wasn’t the ice, you goof

Just put on different shoes

Go ice-skating

Just go, dammit, just walk.

Paper plane on a stone

Wouldn’t trade it for the world

I see a paper plane

sit on a stone, commonplace, nothing grand

made by an anonymous entity

˜ ˜ ˜

It doesn’t have propellers, not even an engine, not even a life

And yet,

with a single touch of wind,

spreads itself like a drop of water

expanded

on a flat surface.

˜ ˜ ˜

And yet, so delicately,

flip, flap,

flip

and

flap

˜ ˜ ˜

Whoever made it, wanted it to stay,

even without staying

For it was attached to the stone

with a string

That too,

about to lose itself, still hanging on

˜ ˜ ˜

And in a fine moment of detachment

to be in yet out of myself

into it

˜ ˜ ˜

I looked at it

like a ghost cat

looking at the world,

in the seconds it comes to contact with a sun

it avoided

‘Beautiful things don’t ask for attention’

˜ ˜ ˜

Telling time to stop

and retrospect

to its own

distraction of flight

˜ ˜ ˜

Takes a while

to stop time

Takes a while to notice something so small

For God’s sake

Forget the skies!

They’re carved onto your own fingerprints

and you still thought you noticed everything…

˜ ˜ ˜

Do you understand?

Do you?

˜ ˜ ˜

An ant struggles when it rains

Every drop, is a grenade

dropping all the burdens

the clouds carry for us

They speak all we couldn’t

‘Shhh’ let it be

let it carry you away

˜ ˜ ˜

Just know,

that liking rain

doesn’t mean

you’re evil,

It just means

that

it’s somebody else’s turn

to soak

˜ ˜ ˜

And come out clean

to their own idea of being

˜ ˜ ˜

Maybe one day the string

like clogged veins that cause a heart attack

will cry helpless

˜ ˜ ˜

But that day

its flight will come to recede

Trying to accept that it’s not

something to keep

Without the risk, of needing to speed

when it slows down

sticking

to a stone that watches it bleed