domingo, 23 de marzo de 2014

What I'm made of

Ruby bloody guts
caught in a white noise
solid cage
seashell's rumor within the veins
a piece of chalk on the forefinger
Who knows best?
Only the river can know for sure
what it takes on its trip to the sea.
Remnants of anger
and fear and lust
blossom in small birds
around the water
to sing bridges to life, to joy
to deeper roots of silence
where abyssal anemones
glow drawing inner maps
of mausoleums
and memorials of catastrophes
turn into dust gleams.

domingo, 16 de marzo de 2014

I am

The very smell of the body
just to know that
I'm on my feet.
Touch has never been
such a revelation
for the untiring gaze.
In the heart
of the peace of mind's gazebo
a wirlwind has just been born.

Love without conditions

To tie ambitions to a tree
so they can watch
immobile
the sunset of the unborn.

I wrote this with a firefly's blood...

I wrote this
with a firefly's blood.
The world judged me
not for the killing
but for the writting.
And in the very flesh of the sea
a wave began to beat.

I'm preparing for an impersonal battle...

I'm preparing for an impersonal battle.
I ain't fighting for myself
or anyone else.
There is no country nor nation involved.
And, there is no meaning in winning or losing.
Thus, there will be death.
And hunger.
And lost.
And the sun will rise again
over the devastated lands
to shine on one single weed
awakening for its "meant to be".

Birth

Upside, on the roof,
a crack is opening its only eye:
Deaf cyclope of an inside world
that barks its guts to
an empty cycle.
Raw silences lay down
beneath this birth
like patient monsters
waiting for a better angle to bite.

Blue bells are ringing on my open hand...

Blue bells are ringing
on my open hand
like if it would've never been
a beggining of the times.
Seashells are crashing on thy mirrors
like if salt would've never been
a key to find one's faith in despair.
And nothing of this would happen
if only you
if only me
if only the world

Lo que nunca se dormía del todo, era una cierta idea de magnolias. Aunque los árboles donde ellas vivían hubieran quedado en el camino, ellas estaban cerca, escondidas detrás de los ojos.

F.H.