no redeemers at this time

mi mama tenia un traje azul
mi padre se lo arrebato
mi hermano iba a vivir
pero mi tía lo ahogo

parece realismo trágico
esto del alcohol
el gritaba a pecho abierto
lo normal no es normal
hoy no mas comparación

¿ignorancia?
¿miedo?
solo el viejo dolor

mitigando tus penas
entre teclas y una que otra
pequeña negra aparición

desconexión

did you get your disconnection notice?
i am not sure if i am done

y como cada día

& the poet repeats day after day:
i don't know...

a ver a ver

a ver a ver
vamos a hacerlo mecánico
en en en y en español no inglés

mecánico y a ver que nos trae
tal vez solo disgusto
el sin-sazón sabor
del desamor (pero como si yo supiera que es… vanidad)
mas que eso, es el sabor de la desaprobación

el problema como siempre
la falta de convicción
porque así fuese
que importa el exterior?

pero cuando la estructura interna
estaba basada básicamente
en la contemplación
se refleja el enojo de las autoridades
que aun siendo autonombradas
se les ha otorgado el derecho
de la participación

pero como si yo supiera que es…
vanidad

anyhow anyway, anyways!

salio el pocho también
será la música
será el café?

tal vez sea que esta mañana
aunque todo sea azul
en marrón, yo lo transforme

porque? que risa, y ahora
a curarse de la ridiculez
implicada en la histeria
de una prematura vejez

ay que difícil y hasta suena
a ‘mistake’ puede ser
pero a todo esto
pues que se le va a hacer?

espero nada mas no estar llena
de eso que se llama
de manera internacional: selfishness...

the socrates syndrome

Debility infuses days
Discolored morality
Climbing the
Clenched soul
At nights

Splotchy principles
Of my lower mind
My inferior soul
My poorer core

Not malevolence
Nonetheless
lacking fineness

reason stumbles
revealing my own self
A weakness-full-of face

Not loving enough
Not caring enough
For no one
certainly not for one self

monster of despise
Judging lefts & rights
Have I become?

Feeling mad and rude this day

ignorance and unrestraint
undisciplined soul
makes me carry
this non-glorious self every step

not proud of myself
ignorance violence
my very own intellectual spiritual
faults

if i knew my own definitions of right and wrong
that could help
confused although
can't see the light
or don't know what is light for myself

wish had some radiance
but I don’t
wonder if I knew
when the dark spots started to grow
when did these crooked principles
were plotted?

was it on the cradle early existence of my soul?
Was it on my bringing up?

Or is it embedded? As in genes
On the traces of a damaged dna

Doubt and self-judgment
I call upon

Since doubt on my own
Believing am mistaken
Seems the only way
To a path of humility
And interior peace
That I, since born I long for

Poor of spirit
Poor of soul
Weak and mean

seems the only comfort
Is not among the human race
i undergo low for them
feel this day

everybody seems more radiant
too valuable (in a righteous sort of way)
to be my friend

an iceberg wish i could live in,
between 4 walls of coldness

me alone to cure my own miserable soul
seems to be the way

ice cold to refresh
the self inflicted bounds
of a lower woman as I am today….

"As for me, all I know is that I know nothing."
Socrates

william blake

A truth that's told with bad intent, Beats all the lies you can invent.
William Blake

me, to a male friend a couple of days ago

yes i know i seem very cool, rational (?) and laid back sometimes
but don't ever forget that first of all, i am a woman! so...
whimsicalness wins most of the time

sorry, nature precedes, and... huh? i am actually thankful for that

a woman alone in the house

7.35am

she wakes up
the corner of her eye glimpses a reflection on the living room’s old mirror
dry lifeless hair
wrinkles around the eyes, not deep yet not subtle, marked as the wounds on her gentleness once
piebald skin
a shrug of bitterness she wears this morning, instead of a smile
a bent back hides her body, her breasts
what repulsive view! how ugly i am!
but of course i am alone, she retorts
how could any man like me? whispers to herself
self pity, self fault
her unattractiveness blamed, long cause of lonesomeness

5.23pm (later on the same day)

the same mirror for a second time in the day
distracted, all the errands a busy day
walking by the mirror fast wondering if she could escape the mirror’s old manias
his tendencies to all reflect
yet she stops all at once
not anymore afraid of it
the sight is so different now!
her hair after a day of its own humectation, shines & falls flawlessly on her forehead
the way that he used to like it
when he was close long ago, one day
it even smells fine!
the wrinkles seem less deep now
long lashes lustrous & lengthy soulful stare, bringing out the deep color of her eyes
the walk & little sun brought out an unexpected pretty blush to her face
now she smiles and her striking white teeth fill the room with a different light
a deep breathe fixes her posture
she is not in such a bad shape after all, at least for her age, she likes her breasts!
but i alone in the house now, as always,
she cries, and no-one to share no one to stare her new found beauty or to divide the caresses
with this unique moment of hers
no other than her lonely reflection on that mirror
he is never besides her
upset, throw to the mirror a blanket
she beautiful now not ugly like some hours before
yet lonely still
she goes and cries unaided on her bed, again, blameworthy of being always just…
herself

beautiful or ugly, a woman always blames herself for her loneliness…

la línea de la belleza

the book that i am reading now
just started so have no reviews yet, of mine
but here one, and an 'about the author' note
the line of beauty by alan hollinghurst