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Mes: octubre 2007 (página 1 de 3)

Yesterday’s songs

Yesterday’s songs,
melodies that make you remember
past times,
other days.

Melancholy that cries,
nostalgia that shakes your innards,
far hours,
other nights.

Visions almost gone,
faces that maybe will not come back,
hidden yesterdays,
other people.

Smiles already lost,
kisses washed away by sweat,
blurred recollections.
other things.

Why don’t you call me?

Why don’t you call me?
Why don’t you make my phone ring?
I don’t know if you know that I’m up to my neck in shit,
that it’s rising,
It will rise until it suffocates me.

Life would be easier if you’d phone me today,
everything would make sense if you’d do it.
We could go for a walk and drink some beers,
get drunk,
kiss and make love.
You could sleep at my house,
my parents are not here.
And if someone comes to bother us I will say mind your own business,
that this is our dream,
that you are my girl,
my angel.

Why don’t I phone you?
Why don’t I make your phone ring?
I did other times and the dream was broken,
I have already phoned you and it was for nothing.
Maybe you think I’m not your kind of man,
but you haven’t given me the opportunity to prove myself.
Maybe you have already placed your bet for another,
it hurts me to think about it.
But that one culd not give you what I have for you.
My proud fight with my loneliness.
Today’s songs are not happy.
The melancholic summer’s tedium hits me.
I feel myself smelling like shit.
and the shit is still rising.

Why don’t you call me, my darling?
Why don’t you take me away from this, love of my life?
If you knew how I need your kisses
you’d do it at least for compassion.
I think I am dying every moment.
I am suffocating,
I die
Why don’t you call me?

Dreamer of eternal love

I feel like writing a song today,
making it sound so it can reach you,
because no-one else matters to me.

I haven’t asked for many kisses,
but always they have been denied.
I cannot find your lips,
that flavor of eternity that I’m yearning for.
Forsaking all and drowning in you,
this is what I want.

Sometimes I look at you and I seem to recognize my other half,
but you deny it to me.
And I want to kiss you and prove it.
I don’t know if you are afraid.
Is there another in your life that makes it complete?
Could it be me?
I feel you are frightened of something,
if not you would let me in.

When you go and everything is finished,
when your face disappears,
and in my memory only a “why not?” remains,
a hazy woman,
then I will look for another kiss,
other lips,
a possible other love.

I am a beggar,
a dreamer of eternal love,
a pariah lost in a strange world.
I need you.

Bustling silence

I want to provoke the silence to listen to my machine of life.
My insides make the energy of the person that I inhabit.
I breathe.
The heart makes the red rivers of my being flow.
I exist.
From my brain burst the words of my voice.
I feel.
Voice of the soul that I am,
of the being that stays on the paper.
There’s no silence in this, my world,
words make the sound,
the bustle of the solitude.
And so until the end,
until the red rivers run dry and my insides rot,
then only my message will remain,
code of letters that my voice will read for another.

We refuse to listen to ourselves.
We mute the internal voice with external sounds.
We annul this exclusive identity for external confusion,
We prefer to get lost than to find ourselves.
To find frightens us.
The absolute silence is our fate,
let’s enjoy now this unique and personal bustling silence
Let’s discover a machine of life like no other.

Like a frightened child

Like a frightened child. Is that bad?
Writing SOS messages. Asking for help. Smelling fear. Alone. Looking for shelter. An embrace. A “don’t be silly, Don’t you worry. Tomorrow you’ll laugh at everything”.
The bed doesn’t comfort me, spinning. Looking for a way out. Sleep doesn’t come.
It’s not easy being fragile.
Be a man. Don’t be pathetic. Don’t be a coward. Pick yourself up. Face it. Have the guts. Confront it.

Crying like a child. Is that bad?
Hate wants to scare. Egotism wishes pain. Menace suffocates.
And a voice shouts: “Calm, worst things have you passed through. Look at it from above. Smile. Everything is forgotten.”

A woman’s bosom would do me well. A strong hug. A mother’s smell.
And make love and forget everything. And melt with the sky. Leaving the inferno. Feeling the blue of the sea. The red of the burning wood. The green of the fresh grass. All colours are excited, and kind at the same time. Breathing the passion of rebirth. Imbibing life. Feeling the pleasure.

I will drink hot milk to relax my spirit. I will sleep in peace. If something happens, it happens. That is for others to decide. I alone can’t control it. I alone. I will escape behind my sleep. My subconscious will make me rest.
I will defend myself the best I can. I will hide if it is necessary.
Like a frightened child. Who said it is bad to run?

Dishonest kisses

Distrust the one who kisses you with eyes open. I do not remember how this advice came to me. We always forget the good advice, and much more when love takes you flying, blinds you.
Who is capable of kissing with eyes open when this sense lacks importance? Who is going to give attention to a thing that is not the passion that runs within? I could never think that there was someone like this. These doubts never circulated around my mind. It is a shame, now I have them. I don’t know if I will blind myself again, if I will extinguish this distrust that has put a point of inflection in my life.
It was everything I had dreamed. A dream that vanished for its falsehood, but that while it lasted was kept alive in the reality of the senses.
“Distrust the one who kisses you with eyes open”. I should have remembered it.

The first stone

Difficult to talk through the barrier of respect transgressed.
You have to be a saint, maybe an idiot, to forget the insult.
Why do we destroy love?
We are nothing and we believe we are everything.
A finite machine of meat and bone. A set of ideas arranged with selfish whim.
Instinct of conservation.
He started the animosity, you followed the game. The mechanism warmed up. The game was burning. Enflaming the pride. Shout or shut up. Hurt or run. Attack or defend.
You want to win.
Both lose.
Must one always compete?
And the memory cannot forget, must not. The hurt stays inside. The rancour is controlled; hidden, an ember not extinguishing, waiting for fuel.
Who cast the first stone?

I love you because…

I love you because when you sleep your beauty rests unattainable,
and I want to dwell in your dreams to talk to you of my love.

I love you because when you awake I believe I am the owner of your body,
and I would like to be the heart that makes your blood flow,
move your muscles,
feed your skin.

I love you because when you are missing my universe is cloudy,
and my loneliness seeks to write of you.

I love you because you fulfill my being,
and you let me be.

I love you because I have always looked for the woman in my dreams,
and when I found her in you I came to my senses.

I love you because you are the woman of my life,
because before, there was nothing,
and later, nothing will be.
Nobody,
never.

I love you because my desires and my soul go with you.
In any moment,
and if you still have any doubts,
remember that I LOVE YOU.

Nothing serious

Today is a day to write nothing serious,
because today you have to open the soul’s door,
let life flow,
and life is not serious if you wants to feel it this way.
Today is not a day of study and prose,
because these control the feelings
that look for freedom,
and the door of the soul needs an anarchic doorman.

Today is a day of doing nothing,
because nothing is more important than to feel,
to let the senses be,
and to live through the present as it comes.
Today is a day not to look at the clock,
because the hands go round without looking at you,
implacable in any case,
and you will age rapidly by looking at the past.

Today is a day to love,
to laugh, to cry, to shout,
to walk, to jump, to dance,
and to do whatever comes.

Today is a day for nothing serious.

Kiss me

Big smile like the blue sky,
looks sad and profound like the sea.
Hair and sun as equal,
delicate gesture,
glass dove.

Don’t talk me about the past,
nothing I want to know.
Don’t ask me anything,
nothing I want to answer.
Just bury your watch in the sand
and kiss me,
kiss me,
kiss me.

You know things are not going right outside,
and everything is smashed inside.
You know we must walk,
but now we’re going to stop.

And let me breath deep the sea air,
and kiss me,
kiss me,
kiss me.
Please kiss me.