And no religion too

Imagine there’s no heaven

John Lennon

 

Drug time

we cry again

over sins and solitude masks

we deserve this smashed tongue,

we try always to rise somebody affection

but we own shadows… above us

singleness fulfill us, plenty of us

will die tomorrow:

Which is the meaning of strong

families? When we scroll this tinny

appetite —this swallowed sexual instinct

hazarding our memory and body—

we crawl down the being and the bee and the do

is nothing else but the way we were again

a curly, perverted, shinned capitalistic age.

Our coin is against us

and we are against the monkey man

that climb over our heads

smiling for the audience.

Do we deserve our latin names?

We can’t handle the mistake

of being and our sorrow speaks

louder than the sun.

We forgot as we forgive.

Please don’t punish the destructive landscape

insulting this minute,

please, call 911

and let me be miss understood

the rest of this machine life.

 

 

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Mitología de la pantalla/Screen mithology

Hubo soledad

It had been loneliness

entre castillos

under castles.

Tétricos días

Gloomy days

apoyaron su axioma

supported their axiom.

Falsificación inmaterial

immaterial fake

llamar carnal la luz

call carnal the light

abismo manchado

stained abyss

nosotros: testigos del sol.

we witness of the sun.

 

 

Spoken of the sorrow

She delivery inner atoms

below single landscapes.

Here, where I can reach

the strength called sunny day

their souls arise keeping

time for them. Will I forget?

Nevertheless I will climb

to reach clouds. There,

that’s here inside,

I can fly to remember

the name of generations.

Trashy poetry

 

I will never be a poet
neither a hope
nor an inner silence.
I will never try
to fly again
the sky is forbidden
for cowards.
I will never get again
over my sight
the smiling song
of quiet air.
This world is corrupt.
Here, where the death is an everyday coin,
being alive is not a treasure
is the price of being
a slave of the present.

This hell called Mexico

 

In the beginning, the women were raped

the childhood was destroyed

the men were killed.

One Empire was

for another to be.

Blood and sinners and death

all around.

Now is the same.

The men called queer other men

because they felt superiors,

the women are being killed.

They bring here one God.

Now we have this God called drugs, alcohol,

machine guns, money and credit.

We are nobody on the surface

of this poor and devastated land.

Here in Mexico,

where is rising a hope,

we will be dead, any day, at any time.

We have been ruled by devils

and no God could help us.

This is the hell, a hell make by

alcoholics mens, by models,

by being the trash of the most powerful country on

this fake continent: America.

They got guns, they got cars, the got

the fucking mind of youth:

some by religion

others by substances

others by sex slavery

others by selling images

on TV.

We don’t have any chance

for being happy, we won’t own

our lifetime, we won’t get

our assurance, we will be in debt

for this and the rest of eternity.

They will continue

rising girls, raping them,

marketing children to be stars.

They command.

We are nothing on this shitty country,

but the shit of it, the noise of it,

the shadow of the tender light of the past.

Here we won’t rise a home

here we are not going to be respected

here we don’t value anything else

but a violent death.

They will buy

our life, the will sell their bodies,

here in this men’s country

no one will escape from the tyranny

of being conquest.

Five hundred years of being a developed

misery, this miserable land,

this horizon called bloody death.

Mexico will never be in peace

Mexico is a growing hell

and they command,

they procedure to kill us.

We will be always stupid boys

raised by Bible or by psychedelic streams.

Our punishment is to go on

among this bloody tale

and try to be someone.

But Mexico is a hell

a burning criminal hell

and it won’t change

because is our folk destiny.

Now at the rising of hope,

nothing will be different.

Our eyes

our minds

our bodies

our souls

will be continue

being raped

by otherty full of nothingness.

 

 

 

 

 

Eyes/Ojos

Amazing silence’s tongue

Increible lengua del silencio

Do you find me attractive?

¿Te soy atractivo?

Once every day will be forgotten

Una vez cada día será olvidado.

Inner speechless time

Tiempo interior indiscursible

Raped sight with light

Mirada violada con luz

Fairy well meaningless attribute

hasta luego atributo insignificante

What we saw is what we most conserve

lo que vemos es lo que debemos conservar

intact over our tinny sorrowed head

intacto sobre nuestra pequeña cabeza entristecida.

Self portrait

Nastier than purity

oceans of time

steel unloved memories.

Timing quitting trucking souls

under sound, wet voice

salted tongue, tears as firewood

denying destroyed structures.

Watching spelling silence, again

us, despite surrounding nothingness

fulfilling ancestors —antiquity our name

will and sorrow fighting against shadows—

where the ancient builds were erased.

 

 

 

Flying attacking motivation

Do we deserve a kingdom

of nudity? We aren’t lambs

on this creepy country.

Our field is empty of emptiness

fulfilling us, terrifying God.

Our will is a tongue

filling the shape above us:

nothingness arising in our feelings.

Do we clean up our heads for being

especially hurt by nudity?

All around we can’t say what

we want, we can’t reach amazing

young tits, we are not saved

for being important. Who knows?

We climb once the blue tender lips of skies

and we, among the silence,  sharpening

the mouth of sorrow are beating the fire

of pornographic age. And we cry once,

we love once, we carry on once, we forget once.

But we can’t have a nice couple of books

and we can’t sell them

and we can’t practice or English

and we can’t even think about

other people rights. And we deserve

a fatty body, we deserve our meals,

we deserve cancer and death. We deserve

to heal the shadow of infancy and tell the single

puzzle true about smashing souls.

And we fly

while we try

while we cry

while we sight

inside the inner

combo of sex and light and lettered

columns of paper and pencils and childhood too.

Because this tiny tongue speaks

we deserve some nice sexual desert

some dirty sexual desert

some nasty sexual desert

as a black nice espresso,

as an infinity tale called

a question: what else

can we have here

where everything is getting destroyed

as no one will be alive

for the end of times?

And we are trying again to find a mix

of verses and sounds

but we can fill in

because we left on

pieces around a finding

error of fire collapsed

tiny mouth. This

atonic template

temple found

me chilling

out

some

age

against

what

it’s called

human brutality.

Many women will die

and we couldn’t find

the way to get in love with them.

 

Too much density

Do I felt again

the smiling tongue

of sorrow?

Here my voice depicted

one minute of smoked souls

and then I fly again

to the rain shadow.

Inside this solitude

there’s a summer memory

trying to climb the horizon.

Here I had this shadow of my self

there I will pay the price of attention

and write false English poetry.

Is there a language greater than

episodic atoms of unloved heart?

Suddenly I must forget

everything against my clouds:

this verb and phrase is one of them

and I will never get enough scholarship

I will never understand what is

a single verse, a tiny piece of something

else than lovely inspiration.

What’s love? Where do we seek

the nude body of young women?

Everything could be different

but I wrote it like that and it’s wrong

again, it’s wrong and impolite.

This rudeness shines all around the table.

Then I smoke another cigarette.

It’s too late to unfold my message.

And I don’t know how to get out

of this density called identity.