jueves

Pour esthétique généralisée

Te odio, por eso creo.
¿Quién quiere al hombre? Consciente reo.
Te trabas en mí, yo quiero salir;
belleza aquí, belleza huír...
Trazo a otros, respondes tú,
¿Te escribo siempre? Déjà vu...
Del humo me enciendes,
tras humo mientes...
Teatro absurdo... hasta que revientes...
Te odio mundo, ¿me odias? Sí;
trauma profundo, en él viví.





Enero 2009
SAG

The One-Eight

Esperé al 2009 por los propósitos del escrito, lo he dejado atrás pero esto fueron mis '18':



I'd turned and heard a song 'bout the one-eight:
'you're lost in the world and yet it feels so great',
now it's my turn to say what it meant to me,
you see it's not just another decade but a century...

One thing I agree he got it right:
you're slipped a potion over night,
the painting of your future dangles off the wall,
the ceiling has no roof you'll get wet after all...

In terms of measured time: 07 to 09,
what? Two years? Preface and consequences...
Time: two tails, one dime.
The aftertaste of life, like congeners in wine,
comes from these tacit reminiscences;
My death is all mine.

Bottoms up! Average start: no panic, many tears;
I dried them up profusely: you're not welcome here,
until I'm too high to want to notice I can't feel,
the closest taste of ecstasy was in its deals...

There's no need for me to underline,
drugs, you'll be meeting eight or nine;
uninteresting steady non euphoric time
felt useless to be living, give me back that dime!

This coin of the extreme, intolerable scene,
mourning more than ever my offences,
now staying clean.
Treason, grief, memory; what's up you skeptic bee?
Go back to the start, step in my 'senses',
still rules: ecstasy!

And then.,.
Beloved inquiring, nude hunger satiating,
the hollow maze led back to cornucopia!
At last! Feeling!
Banquets and poetry! The world in which I'm free!
Fear returned, but I beat anhedonia!
Got me ready...

Contemplative?
Too subjective?
Trying to live
throughout danger...

It won't stop now,
unasked perm-vow,
please don't allow
you be your stranger!

There's the heroin, the elevated sin...
Victory of the above? I shan't hurt you, my love...

The war we both survived from which we're sick or tired,
cause-effect, time travel and endless being,
sci-fi aside...
Voyagers join me aloud, we made it here, be proud!
Don't fear decadence or disappearing,
we are one, not a crowd.

Don't guess early,
ruins the story;
all is worthy,
never better.

One time threshold,
'leight' nights and cold,
one-eight years old:
lifetime letter.

Enero 2009
SAG

Sr. Obama:



Antes de que iniciara a imperar E.U.A., me hubiera gustado poder decirle:

La lista de ex-adictos es larga y mentira,
permanencia probable desde la pura idea;
tan cerca al iceberg tienes en la mira,
otro best seller guiness para Norteamérica...

La distracción racial no apacigua el problema,
puedes callar a tu oponente, no a las esferas,
¿a quién vas a llorarle si te desesperas?
En la última crisis/cena no hay cambio de tema.

Me rehuso a pagar para orinar,
mis deshechos le sirven más a la tierra;
sólo seis mil millones querermos cagar,
ojalá el nuevo Bush tenga la boca abierta...

Mi casa es de tres pisos para poderme colgar,
usen el demás espacio para mi funeral fiesta,
si quedo vivo apúrenseme a humillar,
seré piñata y blanco de toda ballesta.

¡Ejemplo digno!
¿Seguro quiéres dirigir?
¡Timón suicidio!
¿A dónde quieres ir?.


Diciembre 2008
SAG