The Wheel of Death
The end´s final call, but the seats remain empty
And while I close my eyes, the wheel starts to spin
As the night rose again, the depth of the absence
Began to burn the scars that were left encrypted on skin
In an exposition of the departed
And abandoned to it I am standing stock-still.
The procession in me is now almost over
Grey calm interrupted
Hearing the knife striking closer each time,
We´re always too late for what could have happened
Afraid of finding out there´s nothing out there worth to find.
Once our hands built a bridge towards what was missing
It would have been great, but great things don´t occur.
Anticipating the outcome, the option to defer
Startled in stillness, death on a red carpet:
No words left to say, no sign to follow
Just the clang of the blade as I'm now the target.
Caught between two eclipses, tomorrow´s undone,
Now hearing the knife striking closer and closer
I crave to consume everything until it´s gone.
Lullaby for Don Juan
One last line
On the rose-colored dusk
As Don Juan
King of the broken hearts
The lover of all
Laid naked and distinctively drunk
Drawing the days between
The mosquito blood stains
Decorating the wall
And finding bliss
In the wine
On the floor
Amongst shattered glass
Having already forgotten
The latest body he loved
On the rusty grass
But lower the red flags
Though no quantity could satisfy
His hungry hands
It was Friday night
And Don Juan had no plans
Nor desire of going out.
For Don Juan life was a wasted last wish
And lingered for freedom
Between love´s lustful legs
The traveler of beds
Pleasure´s a moment to seize
Even if it sometimes required
To reenact a romance
Dancing on promises that pendulate
Between the height of the hope
And a doubt´s abyss
His love was a nest for disease
On a quest to convert
A miss in a whore
The lover for more
Knew that the women would eventually
Want their revenge
And revenge is sick of death
Excess has its laws
It was Friday night
And Don Juan couldn´t find rest
In the darkness behind the closed doors.
The dread of the end of it all
In a more recent world of a ´No means no´
The once upon darker times master of deceit
Couldn´t talk his way out of the limbo
And found his charm obsolete
Fighting an age
As he failed to update the capital tricks
of the chase.
No dark patterns on new skin,
Not even the weeping divorced would bother in
Knocking at Don Juan´s door to sin.
The lover for more
Bitter deep in solitude
For all of the promises
That he didn´t keep.
And as hell seemed to dissolve into dawn
When he finally fell into sleep
Don Juan had a dream
That death came as the sound
Of the whispering witches
That gathered around
And burned him
For all of the promises
that made women
Time stopped at 3.15
And let loose the seat bealt of reality
To dwell into the boundless texture of a dream.
Reminiscence of a forgotten chant
Where clouds crawl up on concrete´s walls and whip up storms
Through the roof of my mind
-Rite of passage undefined-
In the cold breath where Jekyll meets Hyde,
In an outbreak of thoughts, I tare myself towards the inside
And the start of a wave orchestrates all the extreme:
Particles of thoughts in a speeding car hunting for a dream
Take me where the corrupt ends and where exult begins
Where I build up houses, people and monsters
That my eyes in life have never seen.
It leads me to the truth behind, uncertain and serene
Where heresies collide in an improvised past
To the root of things tired of making sense
(skeleton key of the outcast)
Where roads still starve for space in the other side of night,
In a fragmented sky , apart from the blight of the world.
Induced adventure with shadows of romance
The last death throes on appointed paths
Where all of time is present, bereft of continuity
Where my unconscious is the only god left.
Postpone unhappiness for the lie of the land
A human contraband
Longing of ambiguity, baptised oblivion in uncharted territories
Corridors of mind twisting all symbols
With the delicate carelessness of unstructured stories
Impenetrable ritual loading prophecy, dancing mythology,
The mountains in me rearrange the signals.
I am the only resident in a dream´s heartbeat.
Core of life not to remember, I retain only the taste of it.
The first and only glance of it.
The sense of it
Time stopped at 3.15 a.m
When I surrender to dreams
Hoping this time
Won´t wake me up again.
All my lovers
In the witching hours of creaky gods who rest
I lead the darkness into vestal beds where
All my lovers´ heads.
It´s alright now,
In springtime´s nest we grin amongst dead bodies.
Meanwhile graceful birds sail through clouds
And cause enviousness.
In hands lacking of affection
Time no longer moves any pawn...
I´m drawn into you,
The one standing closest to the sky,
I´m drawn into you like night´s chained to whispers
With your mystical traces, the fog in your veins
Ripples in my bones;
My skin, my skin summons you.
It's been too long since us two stopped belonging.
I need you to need me,
To reach me in fallen continents of abandonment
I want to get lost
In the wondrous woods of your hallowed eyes
I want your martyr lips to draw my name in laudation
Leave me your statuesque wounds to supervise
It´s no one´s blame.
I want to caress your arms,
Engraving new scars on them,
Lick your skin 'til I strip it from your body,
I want to bite your ear so hard it bleeds.
Give you the right to respond.
Let me correspond you in the unhappiness of existence
A widow's weeds
And share our melancholy
Under the moon´s sweet company.
Let me be your choice among varieties of suffering
(And no, I certainly do not imply I wish you to marry me
Cause marriage is a pretty nasty thing to do to anybody.)
Don´t resist it love
Because the night will stay
And a black cat with sweet stripes
Will swallow the forest in your jade eyes.
Let´s burn the breeding ground of fear´s myth
Tangling onto archetypes
And orchestrate a waltz with bullets in Hades´ labyrinth,
Let´s put our shadows on the table
And play with them charades
Cause it’s a long way back to sunset, baby,
And the stars emerge as blades;
It’s a long way back to sunset
In the wrench geography of pain
So don´t resist it love
And kiss me now
Before the moon goes mad
And kills again.
A rumor of death
The rain started to drop like a violent feeling
Blood screaming in the verbs
As I remain standing in the garden.
The roots digging their way towards me
Adding years to the silence
And I surprise myself smiling
Like an abandoned child
In the nimbus of matter
As earth drips through my ankles.
A rumor of death passed over all the thresholds
And in the cracks in the walls of the shed
Fall in a new way.
Peel the layers away
Into a state of withdrawal.
Pas de deux
She looked into his eyes
And he understood it was time.
No sign of protest
Only a dense pause blessed
By the revelation:
The struggle had stopped;
Her hand falling softly on his forehead
In a mixture of exhaustion and calm
A silent prayer in her palm
Prorogues the farewell.
Undertones of Grief steps before
The glimpse of life before its death,
In shards of hearts
There´s nothing left
The silence and the sentiment.
Before they ran like flames on ground
To the profound of freedom´s taste
Before she extended her faith to his grace
Across the hills they hunted skies
Winning the race with time
The horse and his rider.
A spell craft resider.
The lighting beside her.
His ears cocked back
And she could decipher someone´s far call
Now absence inside her.
And with a ceremony in gestures
She took him by the halter
Gently outside the stall.
The horse and his rider
Now carefully constructing the path towards his grave
A pas de deux, a code of ritual
Towards the grave that they have dug
Near the crossroad
Between the woods and the clapboard fence.
An instance slowed down by significance.
And almost still in time, reformulating space
An arrow of sun in the rain-swept field
Blooming from the depths of sorrow
The glimpse of life revealed
Before its death,
The beauty left
In silence and in sentiment.
She planted a kiss between his eyes
A last caress of his sand hair.
The air has changed
And then he fell shifting his weight
A dust outburst
And wind became
The wind dictates the transition to death.
Next to a carving of his name
His footprints still
Crushed on the grass.
Beyond the end there´s always life
She could resent the roar of it
Although it didn´t feel the same.
She stood and watched the clouds
A storm about to burst
The smell of earth.
The sunset sky.
The glimpse of life before its death.
Death plunged into me
And left me rust
Sleepwalking on high wire,
A demon host, deposed of dreams,
Nostalgia unscrambled onto trampled wings
Bewilderment on rifle slings.
In the aftermath of cutting edge,
Sat on life´s ledge
Sidestep to catch fire.
The crusher came and in the space between
Burned out the light of the unseen.
While the asylum in me
Swirled into dusk.
Shadows´ state of quarantine .
Untroubled stillness in fear´s safeguard
A fog of thoughts that once were storm
No love to bleed, no thrill or lust,
My heart´s the landscape of a graveyard.
My private hell
The back row seat in chloroform.
I had this dream once
that a doctor told me I was going to die
at 7 o'clock.
He advised me to enjoy my last hours of life.
I didn't know what to do.
I went home and on my way I started looking at things knowing it was the last time I would see them.
Time flies when you know you're dying.
It was half past six.
I was lying in my parents' bed surrounded by my family.
All of them looking at me with empty eyes,
no one saying a thing.
9 watching only the clock
8 watching the clock click
7 watching the clock
6 click my final seconds of
4 shut my eyes in
2 hold my last
I did not die.
Stridently, the mourner cries rivers of death,
They call upon her father without any answer
The end of the end came as a slow pace disaster
Insatiable night that swallows lost breaths.
Impertinent, loneliness of grief, bitter and disowned,
In a chorus of old women forgotten by Thanatos
The mourner embraces your chest now made of stone
While for your posthumous peace, believers pray clinched to pathos.
Suddenly, your heart remained lifeless,
We bury one body, but death is collective in us.
Helpless, now relatives kiss your sleeping forehead
Meant as somber farewell to what once was present:
With sharp tears, astonishment to see you;
It seems you, but without being quite you,
In the dark blue, chant of a bloodstained angel
Drags your soul away to a thirsty god
Hiding beneath the sod: a burning grave.
Faith left behind a calendar of shadows
Flowers and rivers of death wash away what she knows
In this garden of beasts she´ll try to be brave.
Cravings concourse in his futile craze for fulfil
I see restless corpses on the boulevards looking for Cerveza Beer
Ethylic loves in dark clubs that dissolve in hits excess
Here vulgar girls kiss hit-or-miss boys to avoid loneliness
Cravings concourse by inheriting modern misery
Waiting lines for happiness as children queued in a fair
Grueling frights of so many false apocalypses
By wilful blindness to ignore one´s own shitty crisis
Cravings concourse, redemption of false pain meds
The current ideal man who only prays to banks for loans
A full speed car with no brakes and hours cut to zero.
Only in Disney they used to do justice to the right hero.
Cravings concourse, inauspicious ambulant cemetery
Ignoring the present for commitment to follow through
Recumbent dreams which with your permission have been forgotten
The end of the end that you are expecting... it has already happened.
On Regent Street light strikes with fury
A walking crowd hired for slaughter
In shapeless days.
Redundancy forging itself
Into a sumptuous maze
I´m not quite sure how I got here
I´m standing skint in a sales serenade.
There is no escape
I find myself trapped in the quarry
Of the butchers brigade.
On Regent Street there´s no more context to negotiate
Nothing worth to create
Things tumbling down
On the boarder of need
With speed of greed
Spinning the wheel into a black hole
The shopping march of a part-time soul.
I start to run for my life in a cauldron of offers
But before I can tell
I reach the bottom
In the customised hell of the brands
While one of the walkers with ten bags in her hands
Reassures her friend that she doesn´t have
A spending problem.
On Regent Street, even time freaks out
And while you crawl for a chance left out of breath
Opportunity strikes with a drop shot
Out here in the trough, you can only
Seize the day
I switch my brain
All I wish for right now
Is a falling meteor
To hit this exact spot.
An instant end to this game of pretend
Leave me at least some sort of dignity in death.
The last kiss of love
Assembling a world in your hands
While the sun sinks in night
Nature whispers with us
As the numinous stars light
Your satiny eyes
And the baffling moon plays its part
Cause it´s there and it … shines
As the last kiss consumes,
Wondering through romantic fumes
In a meaningless night
The soul´s out to hunt
In a playground for wounds
With the risk of encountering
Some sort of cunt.
Lay to rest all the demons above
As the feast will commence
One last bite of the lips drenched in love
Let me feed just a bit my prey
With the rite of romance.
The last kiss of love will be a snack of the hounds
As we both realize that the feeling inside was in fact
Just a shared anxiety attack.
Love of the damned.
And we both realize love´s a need in disguise
Now there´s blood on my hands and blood in your eyes
There´s no need to know anymore
Nor desire to stay
So keep the words for yourself but
Though the meaning attached to the experience of touch
Vanished a long time ago
I´ll take my love to go
In this marching band
Nothing springs from the heart anymore
Love´s just a bruising game
Hold my bleeding hand.
It´s a typical Sunday of a laid-back body;
Knocked down by a procession of lovers,
I am abandoned, burning under the summer sun.
It´s a typical Sunday of being nobody.
In the blazing purgatory known as the Costa Brava,
McDonalds salads for healthy habits,
White parties for bronzed elitists,
Obscene joy driving an orgy of egos.
It´s a typical Sunday of carnivorous souls,
Apollonian contemplation of the promenade of slutty dolls
And while persuading myself that it´s still early for pain
I drink some vermouth and I survive, in vain.
Now fugitive lovers separate bodies and say 'Goodbye´.
Now the elderly Catholics pray under Gods watchful eye.
And the TV news show stories where murderers collect all the glory.
Today, the midweek menus are no longer on offer.
With no cab money, I miss the bus and I´m late for supper.
It is a typical Sunday of not having to shave,
No-one comes to visit today, nor plans to stay.
It is a casual Sunday of my summer in Spain
Overdose of piña colada in my tourist veins
When I speak English but think in Romanian.
And without planning it, I always do the bohemian
I agreed to participate in a false pagan hedonism.
Today is Sunday and I die with optimism.
A new world is a new mind
Instead of worshiping an echo
Rise from the blind and the resigned to be your own world´s architect
And the things you design should defy all laws with the splendor of the incorrect.