sketches written on my way trough barcelona

are you ready to enter the world?

been here for 28 years
and so much more

a door opens

snake is waiting for you

she'll kiss you
and bite you
she'll poison you to the bone

that's the way things go
in your first time entering the world

***

i could never live in a cottage
far from seeing you smile

but i could live in a cottage
away from the darkness

my own indian reservation

no satelite spying me

***

they told me had to think for myself and be unique
so i did it

worked hard for it

never thought when you're unique
you feel so lonely

***

poetry, in fact
is a good way of trying
to stop anxiety
of the void

i'm a good poet
for i see constant destruction
and reconstruction
of creation
dance of the elements

enter now the realm of poetry
awaken to possibilities
of new dawn

***

reality will amplify itself
increasing every  form of pain and bliss
which has its habitat under my skin

is it reality or just myself?
where do i live?
where do i exist?

i am the world

***

not everybody has a master in wisdom
not everybody is fortunate enough

in days to come
i will be so different
much more wise
but in some aspects
still be as vulnerable and wasted
as today

***

you'd need a vaste range of grey tones
to paint people from the streets
the ones we encounter
in our painful travesy
trough the desert

lost souls
lost names
in the dark machinery
of our city

***

a black boy picture
and a white boy picture
have different meanings
in the eyes of mankind

in the end they're just simbols
taken from the deep forest
of our memories

***

makes no diference if you believe in magic
or in the air you breathe

the ancient forest is endless
so are the posibilities
it contains

***

my old self is still here
has not disapeared
just came across
trough the ancient door
of mistery

death has been an old friend to the snake
just a change of skin

a visionary experiment-perfected-english version

we are climbing

a mountain

we in our

scholar aspect

some volcanic mountain

Saint Margaret volcan

it's a deep forest

full of underwood

and suddenly we

school children

we hikers

are in a train

a theme park atraction

a little train

driving in circles

trough the mountain

all around the

beautiful mountain

circling the mountain

light comes across trough

the leaves of very

tall and strong and big trees

-big trees-

light, as i said, comes across

touches our hearts

we are smiling and laughing

we could cry of joy

our hair dances in the

wind because of

the speed of

the train

underwood is

very dense

all is green

all is dense

a very clear green

trees are tall

we cannot see the

sky, just some beautiful

and pure light which filters

trough the tall trees

i remember going there

in my infancy

but it seems to me there

never was anything like a train

a visionary experiment

we are climbing
a mountain
we in our
scholar aspect
some volcanic mountain
el volcà de santa
margarida d'olot
it's a deep forest
full of sotabosc
and suddenly we
school children
we excursionists
are in a train
a theme park atraction
a little train
driving in circles
trough the mountain
all around the
beautiful mountain
circling the mountain
light comes across trough
the leaves of the very
tall and strong and big trees
arbres grossos
light, as i said, comes across
touches our hearts
we are smiling and laughing
we could cry of joy
our hair dances in the
wind because of
the velocity of
the train
el sotabosc es
molt dens
all is green
all is dense
a very claire green
the trees are tall
we cannot see the
sky, just some beautiful
and pure light that filters
trough the tall trees
i remember going there
in my infancy
but it seems to me that(/there)
never was anything like a train

in the front seats of the train there was a little girl smiling
her hair just floating on the breeze
her hair of a color somewhere between blonde and brown
un cabell llis de mitja melena

23:46h 20/10/2015

"secret" prayer

help me, beautiful spirit, you which almost climbs to unatainable heights
help me, please, beautiful spirit, you that flys to the Sun and dance trough air
help me, you, beautiful spirit,
                                            to become a happy man.                                            

vendedores de alfombras

en el Tibet lo saben
y venden el antídoto a veinte duros la receta

la serpiente del belén iluminado
trasciende el cosmos y se esconde
en la gruta salvaje
cenicienta aposentada en la vía hacia la perdición

se inclina el presidente
le carcome la duda
enmascara un silencio poliforme de hienas
y se deja vencer sutilmente
para injuriar el desprecio que le tienen
los vendedores de alfombras persas
negros enriquecidos por el sudor de su frente

el fragor de la batalla inclina la balanza
sacerdotes de fuego cambian dólares de plata
    en la antesala del diafragma reptiliano

su piel es un disparo

esfúmate entre la niebla

el glotón no dejará un solo pedazo de la muñeca
para que puedas lamerlo
y por más que marques el siete compulsivamente
el teléfono no cesará en comunicar