Don’t talk,

It’s unnecessary.

Feel my eyes,

dive into my spirit….

but leave soon,

or you might end up losing hope.


The Pond


Children running to the pond,
My father, dripping in sweat:
Come – said a child – there is a
Dead-woman on the side of the pond.”
“Fancy, fancy fabrication…”
Grumbled off bystanders,
But indeed
Dead-woman, really! ya-ya-ha…

Father was silent, that is what I imagined would happen.

The day before
Sorrow inundated my soul
The lack of perfection
The lack of purpose
Life has no real meaning, but it’s ok
We all live in ephemeral love, and hate
For those of us who are lucky.

My father looks at my corpse, badly mangled, ugly: he is frighten
Blue and swollen on each side…I was
Happiness surrounded me, as I was no more
Some kids thought I was a mermaid – others, that I was a careless drunk
Or maybe a bandit victim, robbed ?

The day before, my spirit was crying
For those who suffer, I felt their suffering as my own
Nostalgia invaded me, mother, I miss you
There is no relief. Consciousness is my punishment
Being alive hurts me to the core , life shoves its paddle at my loss,
While my stiff brain tries to resume its journey
Down to reality, to my grave, which I desire passionately.

Dark and stormy the evening was turning.
High the river ran, in gloom.
They took my body, I assume, while my fathers starry eyes wondered to the sky
My body ended at the local morgue – it was smoke break:
Cops asleep, doctors drinking coffee, nurses taking a hit
And there I was, no more.

My final day, I also looked at the sky, like my father
I was ready
With eyes wide open, and with an unmoved stare;
I felt numb – the dreadful feeling of being alive- it will all be over soon
My arms felt feeble
Then I came to realize
That I was already dead
Only my heart was alive, beating against my will
Let me end this horror, I cannot tolerate this pain
The night
Take me with you
By the gates of the absolute, by the gates of the unknown.



Celeste was always saying “pitiful”

Salamano was swearing at the dog


I stood up, dripping in sweat


The stranger was upstairs

Boiling potatoes

The horizon was uncertain

Kusturica was in the air


The stranger looked at me

and sang:


Quitate el sombreroooooooo

and as I stood up, listening

I felt Fellini in my heart







Allen Ginsberg

Ginsberg whisperers: “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked…”


The Clash sang: “I need complete control, I am controlled in the body, controlled in the mind…!”

I see

We all drag ourselves

through the streets of our metropolis

where the homeless are ambiguous

where materialism is prevalent

where people think tv is reality

where angel headed ISIS hipsters burn for the ancient

heavenly connections….


Rupaul is in the background

But the gin and clonazepan with red bull have me dancing

my kinect makes me move with Daft Punk


The ganja helps

As Edgar A Poe sneaks in

and Kant

and Aristotle

and Heidegger

to remind me that life is an illusion

as is love..


Let me pour some more gin, before Kierkegaard kicks in.