Hidden

hidden_by_larafairie

Hidden by larafairie

Under these bandages
There is no pretty realities,
There is no merry laughs,
Innocent afternoons,
Nor livelings alive.
Under these petals,
My hope is waning,
My youth is drowning,
The candid decrepit,
Perfection a lie.
Under these rags,
There is a creature that weakens,
There is the sadness that witnesses,
Passions ethereal,
Me wanting to die.
Under these encrypted marks,
Truths that are hidden,
My lust forbidden,
La vie est un songe
J’habite dans mes songes
Unearthed delight.

 

 

 

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Novelties…

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It’s a dark, rainy day around, and I’ve managed to come back to the feelings, to the old stories, and write them down, not to forget… Paper and ink, they do not forget. Recently those bright and green Irish summer days come and go (not today though)… but the actual summer (and its offering of liberty and deliverance) is almost gone. It is, however, a good time… a lighter time for my head and mind. I can breathe, limping from time to time, but I  C A N   B R E A T H E  by the virtue of simple magics, that were at hand for so long, yet neglected by my pride … Today, I just want to say I can breathe, and I can scream, and I can cry without dying inside, and I can sing, and I can run, and I can dream without dying inside… It was always dying, losing a battle against no one, gaining nothing. Today, I am breathing, and that is all that matters…

For the today’s feeling, I prescribe as the music dictates… with Ashes by Pallbearer

In fragments …

Three sisters

Picture by Ciro Galluccio

Write in white my mind
Tell me how, tell me know
Stories and origins of the mind
Let the ink cross my hand
Alas! Do not let it dry.
My days, they go by gallows songs
Today by you, on the morrow, on the go…

And I cry a wordless litany
For those instants crossing my way
Breaking my embrace, cleansing my slate.
And then, my voice is reduced
To the empty, skilful words of my eyes
Rapid reconstructions of fragments
Some groundless, artificial, corrupted
Others, broken into silence.
And then, my spirit forgets the solace
Of the justice found in truth
Captured in the commodity of the isolation.

The sweetness of touching many walls,
Yet breathing nothing in.

26 February 2017

***

 

Litanies of the heart I

 

hands

10 August 2016

Withered heart, hardened skin,
Time marches on
Dragging our bodies to the Sun.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Sweetened lips, your tender youth,
You run afar
Hauling us off to the bell jar.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Saddened sleuth, forgettable kin,
We bleed you away
Memory in slumber, will never neglect.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Maps on strips, vigorous embrace,
Grasping my heart
The day begone, bygone the charm.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

And the world will turn, your eyes intact,
Stories resembling yesterday’s lives.
And the Valkyries will sing no stars aligned,
My lineage lost, your urges denied.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Photo by Nicola Davison Reed

Old new beginnings…

Dear anywho! With no other pretension other than motivate myself to write, I am bringing my old blog (arbolsobrelacolina.blogspot.com) here! I will probably post in both, at least for the near time coming… while I decide which one is better to keep 🙂

corrib

I took this picture recently while having a well-needed walk by the river in the town I live. The light had a life on its own, it was like showing me where to follow! I love the intense green in the ivy leaves.

 

War with(out) you

26 July 2016

323f7-blessed_be_thy_hate_by_kittehness

Blessed be thy hate, by Katya-h

 

Where are you now?
Hiding in the back of your word
Caressing other people’s minds
Suffering your faith,
laughing at mine.

Will you send word to me?
Of your heaven’s delight
Of the secrets of your Order
Of your days’ glories,
My hardship, divine.

Are you keeping company at night?
My soul wishes you an Irish blessing
In other, the darkest eyes
Giving you warmth and solace,
The most ancient desire.

Will you spare me touch and vision?
My eyes repeating in loud voices
Each of your wee lullabies,
Singing compulsive odes
Of duties, treason and your heart.

Will I succumb deranged?
Worlds colliding in my blinking eye
Division reviving my deepest ambition:
Your side, that is battling
My memories, dwelling of mine!

Easy come, easy go


16 July 2016

Tristan and Isolde, John William Waterhouse


You’ve tempted me in a life declaration
With your ancient enlightenment
And I crave for Sophia in your embrace,
In that very gone moment.
You called me through blood maps
With your senses thirst
And I fell for the ancient hoax
In the starvation of my ghost.
You’ve fled through the morning mist
With your verb hostile
And I died for a second in the draught
In the perennial desire.
You’ve planted a seed of destruction
With the lenient touch
And I am burning alive in the silence,
In this loathsome void.
And you continue to plant those desires
With the skill of a cavalier…
And I await in the stillness of my shadows
War manifesto or the pettiest of your tales.