To compare the mother sea against a bubble and against all of her foam. To even talk about the sand and ice of the dark seas of nebulae. To confess the curative effects of beer on my feelings about my reasons to be. If there is one, and about my performance or my lack of. To tell my love I’m still in love and always will be, normal interruptions in between. This blog is for
sábado, 17 de noviembre de 2012
Lights
Lights
Bugs come and go
From and to darkness
Visible to me their erratic fly
Just for an instant
By the side of the bonfire
Is confortable and warm
And I'm trying to guess why:
Mating? feeding? playing?
Exploring a new star?
You know: "bugs love lights"
Even Goethe at his deathbed
Asked for more of them
What a pitty
Sunlight is so disperse
After down I shall see
Of what skylarks feed
VABM 17/11/2012
miércoles, 7 de noviembre de 2012
To The Next One
To The Next One
One starless friday's night
I did realize that my life
is mainly made of too late arrivals
and of false starts
Oh God how plenty of supplies you are!
I'm just another excess
that overpopulates another pack of your pets
The kind of things you ussually throw along with dice
That clumsy animal always out of tune with time
I'm seeing a flock of skylarks
feeding from a stream of butterflies
I'm dreaming of the next animal
who will sail the currents of time
Iridiscent and silent their ships jumping stars
The tang of our meat they may dislike
while carrying in their brains
the quiet fatalism of a butterfly
that flies in a hurricane
VABM 11/NOV/12
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