28.11.07

In Bloom (Nirvana)

Sell the kids for food
Weather changes moods
Spring is here again
Reproductive glands

He’s the one
Who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
and I say

He’s the one
Who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
and I say yeeeaaahhh

We can have some more
Nature is a whore
Bruises on the fruit
Tender age in bloom

He’s the one
Who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he know not what it means
know not what it means
and I say

He’s the one
Who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he know not what it means
know not what it means
and I say yeeeaaahhh

He’s the one
Who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
and I say

He’s the one
Who likes all our pretty songs
And he likes to sing along
And he likes to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
Knows not what it means
Knows not what it means and I say yeeeaaahhh

25.11.07

Estallando desde el océano (Sumo)

She had my head on a plate
With her sweet and sour sauce
She was riding in her car
I was riding on my horse
Neck and neck along the road
Well, I have nothing left to hide
So, what a heck
Firefly cars, women rushing past
The road was long and the race was fast
Gradually I fell behind
It was the blind leading the blind
It was the blin leading the blind
Over the hills, over the prairies
Down inthe pampa, up in the tundra
And in Paris in spring. And in old Pekin
And in Katmandu. And in Xanadu
I'm bursting out of the ocean
I'm bursting out of the ocean
Uh,Uh, it was another gas station
Uh,Uh, it was another you
Uh,Uh, it was another gas station
Uh,Uh, it was another you, and that's true
Babe, that's true and that's true
Gimme this and gimme that
I've got no need for your bipperty,
Bipperty, bipperty
Just my horse and me
Just my horse and me
And in Timbuktu (what?)
I'm busrting out of the ocean
I'm bursting out of the ocean
I'm bursting out of the ocean
I'm bursting out of the ocean
Shoot out
Burst out.

Ausencia

Nadie siempre
hay.
Nunca.

(25/11/07)

20.11.07

Respuestas (Marguerite Yourcenar)


-¿Qué tienes para consolar la tumba,
Corazón insolente, corazón en rebeldía?
El fruto maduro pesa y se desprende .
¿Qué tienes para consolar la tumba?
-Tengo el caudal de haber sido.

-¿Qué tienes para soportar la vida,
Corazón loco, corazón pronto al hastío?
Corazón sin esperanza y sin deseo,
¿Qué tienes para soportar la vida?
-Piedad, por lo que ha de pasar.

-¿Qué tienes para despreciar a los hombres,
Corazón duro, corazón rompible?
¿Qué tienes para despreciar a los hombres?
¿Qué eres más de lo que somos?
-Capaz de despreciarme.

12.11.07

Porque te quiero te aporreo (Por Javier "Moncho" Martinez)


… y la historia de la filantropía está
urdida de cuerpos anestesiados,
la resaca de las parejas atragantadas
en un esófago temporal decapitado,
esas que no pudieron barriletear su
esmaltada fotografía ceremonial,
esas son un vórtice procreador de
filantropías de toda modalidad:
hay un platonismo de bolsillo en
jerarquizar un “te quiero” sobre
un embotamiento de líbido;
en rigor, una palma sobre una oreja
sumisa, un índice barriendo de los pliegues
de su rostro los sedimentos de la presencia de él,
ahí toda una sintaxis de corpúsculos vibrantes
peticionan un derecho a la palabra;
pero cuando no la hay, El Amor, El Cariño
La Amistad, y todo un arsenal de cuerpos
angelados por sobredosis de morfina conceptual
urden una filantropía que talla su verdad sobre
una piel que no se rebaja a pedir dos oportunidades:
“lo hago por tu bien, para que no sufrás” confesó
y dice la verdad, la que un engrudo de hojas de
manuales del buen filántropo le permite decir;
en el fondo hay un cuerpo que direcciona otra calidez,
que, siendo claros, bosteza frente a mi coreografía
mi anatomía des-imantada: esa es la verdad, lo demás
platonismo humanista…


(El cuadro es de Kandinsky y no sé cómo puta se llama).