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May172011
May62011
Estar
Estoy aquí,
pero aquí, aquí esta,
esta aquí en mi estado,
que no sé donde esta.
Estoy, lo sé,
pero sé no porqué,
¿porqué estoy en mi estado,
y no sé donde esta?
May42011
O
Somos rostros,
pocos los rostros.
Somos todos
todos los rotos.
Somos locos,
locos nosotros.
Somos todos,
y todos lo somos.
May32011
La Lluvia :-)
Hay pocos momentos como los que presencié hoy, así lo que lo escribiré. Me peleé con mis papas, sin que ellos lo supieran. Y sin que ellos lo supieran: solo, me salí a la cochera donde mi perro me esperaba. Era de noche, y la lluvia caía de los cielos para empeorar todo. Mi perro temblaba de miedo, y buscando asilo llegué yo a sobarlo y compartir penas. El pobre no dejaba de temblar, y entre la desesperación del momento yo también lloré. No sabía exactamente porqué lloraba, pero sabía muy bien que no era de felicidad. Mis lagrimas eran silenciosas y secas, pero se confundían e intensificaban con las ruidosas lagrimas que regalaba la lluvia.
Solo una cosa era hermosa de la que pensé en ese momento, y era ella. Ella pensó en mi también, y un mensaje me mandó. Un mensaje de dos palabras que decía: “La Lluvia :-)” La lluvia era hermosa. Tan hermosa fue la lluvia, y su significado tan cambiante, que volví a llorar. Mis lagrimas eran silenciosas y secas, pero se confundían e intensificaban con las ruidosas lagrimas que regalaba la lluvia. Y por eso fue, que mis llantos fueron hermosos como la lluvia. Hermosos como ella.
April292011
Joy
April282011
Barbra Streissand
Be I, in love.
Be I, hungry.
Be I, happy.
Be I, miserable.
Be I, glad.
Be I, ill.
Be I, stupid.
Be I, thoughtful.
Be I, serious.
Be I, loud.
Be I, interested.
Be I, creative.
Be I, unusual.
Be I, mad!
Be I, passionate.
Be I, careless.
Be I, sensitive.
Be I, myself.
Be I, adjectives? Be I, words?
Be I, not this!
Be I, incomprehensible!
Be I, inexplicable!
Be I, futile.
Be I, senseless.
Be I, amazing!
Be I, adjectives? Be I, words?
Be I, not this!
Be I, what?
Be I, Barbra Streissand!
April252011
Whatever being might mean
Whatever being might mean,
being in love means being glad,
being glad that someone else is.
Being so glad that someone else is,
it gives meaning to your being,
whatever being might mean.
April132011
We all live to strive,
and strive to own the things.
But things will own our lives,
if we don’t strive to live.
April72011
Can you not think about this question?
April62011
Senseless music,
words might be.
but sense is something,
unlike me.
My sentiments senseless,
my sentiments tender,
my sentiments wretched,
sense music to be.
April52011
Music
I’ll borrow some,
put it on,
borrow your’s,
if you don’t mind.
If yoy don’t mind.
borrow music,
borrow life.
Borrow yours and make it mine.
11PM
Love is lonely,
but dreams aren’t lonely.
Lovely my dreams are,
when I dream of love.
And If dreams aren’t love,
then love isn’t lovely.
For I am not lonely,
when I dream of love.
7PM
Repeat these
words
repeat
in a moment
repeat
again you
reread
words that you
repeat
if the words do
repeat
in you.
April42011
“This Poem Makes No Sense”
This Poem Makes No Sense
What is this poem,
trying to prove?
What does it point out?
What is it’s use?
I don’t understand,
I wish that I could.
I’ll read this all over,
is it futile to do?
Life is our poem,
existence the plot.
But the plot makes no sense!
The whole Meaning is wrong!
So then, why does the author,
write what is pointless?
Why does the reader,
read what is nonsense!?
It doesn’t make sense,
this poem I tell you.
It’s all just redundant,
and redundant to say so!
May he never comply,
to make of it, some sense.
Yet, may the author decide,
when the poem will… end.
April12011
“The Unthing” - Short Story
Chapter 1
Behold and admire my greatest creation. His name is Alexis, and he has the blessing of being. I designed what he is, till the very last detail. His perfections and imperfections; his wishes and desires… a curse or a blessing, be that; you will decide. But give this much thought, or else you’ll be bored. Prior to Alexis, there was no story to be told. Prior to Alexis, there was no thought. But that is no more, for Alexis has come. You will read now his story, please give it much thought.
It is dark all the time, where Alexis lives. Everything is dull, and boring and dark. And he sleeps on a cave, slightly boring and darker. Nevertheless Alexis thinks, that he believes this is fine. Because this obscure pointless place where he lives, isn’t obscure or pointless to him. He lives in peace. He’s never seen light, and never seen a point. He cannot see darkness, when he’s never seen at all. For this reason Alexis, has never seen woe. Thank god, that’s about to change.
In the darkness he lives, Alexis stands in awe. Not one inch he moves. Astonishing, it is, what he’s able to see. Just beyond his grasp, light is at ease. Now he sees light, now he sees a point. A glimmer of light, far far away. He stands in astonishment, totally mesmerized. The ground, the sky, his cave, and all he knows; he now can see. Brightness he can see. This is new, this is rich! Brightness, is here because of that thing: that point in the sky, that glimmer of light. He stares at that thing, with a smile in his eyes. Alexis tries to name it. But such a wonderful thing, is unlike anything. Everything is now different, strangely breathtaking. Because of that thing, all the things come to life. Everything’s illuminated, caught in it’s charm. Alexis in awe, manages to murmur a few words to himself. “This is such a thing, it will be the Unthing.”
Woe is Alexis, for now he sees. After a while of light, the unthing leaves. It goes away. The brightness of it is no more. Now the darkness comes back, for the very first time.
What?!
Alexis is mad, he didn’t want it to end. He who’s seen brightness, is damned to see darkness. And damned he is, for he yells and he cries. Nothing is beautiful, nothing is nice. Woe is he, Alexis, for he sees no light.
The unthing comes back, and leaves then again. And then it comes back, and every time does the same. Alexis everyday comes out of his cave. In the presence of the unthing, He stares and he smiles, and drinks all the light. Then again when it leaves, he mourns and he cries, and he sleeps in the dark. But after a while, Alexis understands. The unthing comes, but is bound to leave. He no longer cries, whenever it’s gone. He waits for the next day, and values it most. Alexis has found light, and in light he’s found a point. A point for his being, and the meaning of all. But sadly, or gladly enough: Alexis came to the end of his being.
Chapter 2
Alexis had a son, a son whom he raised. Not as wise or as old, Raul is his name. Alexis raised Raul, to the extent of his knowledge.
Just like his father Raul loved the unthing. He treasured the time that he had to see it. But Raul was only a little bit more inquisitive than his father. For Raul it wasn’t enough to see the unthing. He wanted to grasp more, than the light that it gives.
The unthing comes out, and it Raul stands in awe. But unlike his father, Raul wishes he could touch it. He jumps and he leaps, but he cannot reach it. Raul is fascinated, and probably obsessed. He climbs unto his cave, and then jumps some more. Futile as it is he jumps several times. He jumps up, just a little, to fall down again. Sadly though, his actions inspire more questions than they answer.
Everything falls to the ground, but the unthing does not. The unthing moves not, when everything does. Everything is dark, when the unthing is bright. It is majestic and unique. But why?! Raul has found meaning, in asking why. Raul gets to work, in darkness and day. The unthing is up, very much up; therefore so must he. He gathers pieces of stone, and dirt, and everything he can. He assembles a table on top of his cave, and laps. Raul fails, so he builds a little higher, and fails once again. Everyday he builds another layer to the ladder. And everyday he hopes that he might grasp the unthing. And so the days pass. He builds one, and another. And he climbs down, down to the unthing. He has gone up, so up, that he begins to believe that maybe up might be down, and down might be up. He now sleeps in his ladder, and wakes up to build some more. His cave is now only a discernible point in space. His cave is forgotten, as much as everything else. Every thing seems pointless now, except for the unthing. He’s chased it for so long now, that it never goes away. All day long, he’s enchanted by it’s light. Brightness prevails, and darkness is gone. Sadly though, he’s not satisfied by this. Mad he’s gone, for it never goes away. The unthing taunts him, all day long now. He may always see it, but never touch it. He must build farther, and closer. He must, yes he must reach it. But how is this possible? How can this be? Why does this happen? Raul builds and builds; but the unthing never seems bigger, or closer for that matter. His ladder is meaningless, as well as his efforts. Lost he is in the immensity of space, madness and time. He’s tried everything to get there. He’s given up everything he has; and then he dies. Just as his father before him, he ceases to be; as I designed. He couldn’t reach it when he was, and he won’t reach it now that he isn’t. All hope is gone.
He makes a third layer, and still no win. A ladder begins to appear, on top of Raul’s cave.
Chapter 3
But it isn’t! There is still hope, for there is Ramon.
Raul had a son, a son whom he raised. Not as wise or as old, Ramon, is his name.
Just like his father, Ramon loves the unthing.
Experience–nevertheless–showed, reaching the unthing was not possible. Through the means of possibility, it would be impossible. It isn’t true, to catch a thing that’s not a thing. So to catch the unthing, Ramon does the untrue. And it isn’t true indeed, for Ramon does the impossible. Ramon doesn’t jump up or down. Ramon just… goes. He leaves the ladder behind, and heads for the unthing. Unique in it’s form, the unthing leads Ramon through the darkness to reach what nobody else has. Ramon just goes. Ramon leaves the ladder, his father and his father way back in the subconscious of the universe. Doing so Ramon, does the untrue. Ramon reaches the Unthing. Ramon has done it. He’s done it. Ramon can feel the unthing. It is for Ramon, he owns it. He’s reached the unreachable, and grasped the ungraspable. But it so is the occasion that Ramon does not like this. If he’s done all there is, what else is there to be. If he’s finished the story, what else will he read. He has nothing to follow, nothing to be. Ramon observes the unthing, vanish before his eyes. And that is true. The unthing isn’t his anymore. The unthing is no longer. Prior to Alexis there was no story. Prior to him there was no thought. And so to keep the story going, Ramon does not mind. Ramon doesn’t care if the unthing has vanished. Ramon doesn’t care if what he grasped wasn’t true. And so to keep the story going, the unthing must vanish. The unthing must never be grasped. The unthing must be untrue. “This is such a thing, it will be The Unthing,” he says. He makes the untrue, to create what is true, and will always be true. He creates the Unthing so the story goes on. He creates the Unthing, so it shines once again.
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