Dark, material,
Partially absent most of the time,
Centrifugal under the sun
Black
Demented
In the arc of day.
Thoughts of going to the city centre
Scare us - tediously as well
A great Sunday, felt relish with
Friends today.
Elongated, yes that too.
Incredibly long,
A slight stomach ache panging
In the near white noise background.
The sound of passing traffic
Is reassuring.
Technical documents,
Artifacts and deliverables...
Enough rope to hang myself
Or just a board to hold on to?
domingo, 24 de abril de 2016
domingo, 10 de abril de 2016
I breathe heavily
the last train was supposed to be coming soon
smell of overheated weeds in the deserted aisles
flower overwhelmed with the weight of life
had developed a unsightly hump,
not unlike shoegaze bass players, staring
at the floor, and not seeing the corpses
neatly stacked there.
don't fear or fret over those minimal losses,
you are bad day traders if you do -
the slavery of the material plane,
the need to sleep and the need to eat with no appetite.
the myth of happiness and its pursuit.
enough with that!
burnt offerings to the humanity we like to think we are.
Self-loathing as an academic discipline
wide spread now in the extant and (s)exhausted
Western World (TM).
You can never reach the slimy night
that crawls inside of me.
We buy and comission the cheapest sytems.
Then of course, we complain, but weakly.
Our voices are tired already. Our bodies do no longer care
for the mindless accruing of empty "experiences"
- you can buy them today in shiny plastic boxes.
The world has a tendency to go back to its fixed motions
and in doing so, reminds me of the tired flesh that I am.
I breathe heavily.
Escape is an illusion.
Time to brush my teeth. For no reason.
smell of overheated weeds in the deserted aisles
flower overwhelmed with the weight of life
had developed a unsightly hump,
not unlike shoegaze bass players, staring
at the floor, and not seeing the corpses
neatly stacked there.
don't fear or fret over those minimal losses,
you are bad day traders if you do -
the slavery of the material plane,
the need to sleep and the need to eat with no appetite.
the myth of happiness and its pursuit.
enough with that!
burnt offerings to the humanity we like to think we are.
Self-loathing as an academic discipline
wide spread now in the extant and (s)exhausted
Western World (TM).
You can never reach the slimy night
that crawls inside of me.
We buy and comission the cheapest sytems.
Then of course, we complain, but weakly.
Our voices are tired already. Our bodies do no longer care
for the mindless accruing of empty "experiences"
- you can buy them today in shiny plastic boxes.
The world has a tendency to go back to its fixed motions
and in doing so, reminds me of the tired flesh that I am.
I breathe heavily.
Escape is an illusion.
Time to brush my teeth. For no reason.
recuerdos implantados
tengo constancia, muy vaga, eso sí,
de haber vivido otras vidas -
me son tan ajenas ahora!
del Brasil de los 60 me queda el eco
en luz verdosa de tardes de domingo
en las que me sentía palmera
no recuerdo en qué ciudad
es curioso,
porque de Japón, en la misma época,
me queda un sabor
a desarrollismo en el fondo de la garganta,
el primer suntory, cigarrillos y aquellos
preciosos y primitivos Nissan
no se como logré estar en dos sitios,
- una virtud que ahora no tengo -
dos vidas, tal vez marino que no recuerda mar.
de haber vivido otras vidas -
me son tan ajenas ahora!
del Brasil de los 60 me queda el eco
en luz verdosa de tardes de domingo
en las que me sentía palmera
no recuerdo en qué ciudad
es curioso,
porque de Japón, en la misma época,
me queda un sabor
a desarrollismo en el fondo de la garganta,
el primer suntory, cigarrillos y aquellos
preciosos y primitivos Nissan
no se como logré estar en dos sitios,
- una virtud que ahora no tengo -
dos vidas, tal vez marino que no recuerda mar.
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