Black Blood. Deliverance!!

Black blood.

Tonight.

Tonight.

Did I? I did say,

I insist.

Let me insist.

Tonight.

Tonight the dead shall rise.

With these words I conjure the blinded eye.

Now wide open.

No longer. Not afraid of light.

Not. Anymore.

Today.

Today.

Today!

To me this has been but a very long day!

To mistake dreams for reality,

Lo live a nightmare.

To repress the deepest of myself.

With these words I unleash Hell itself.

Born Every Minute 05: Poppy Blossom

Raw morphine.

Poppy Blossom.
I cheated, girl:
I didn’t warn you;
This is a one-way trip.

To the eery, to the impossible, to the unreachable.
Fathomless as human soul.

Perfect state of peace,
Even my own death could not disturb me,
For “it”, killed the fear.

I could never imagine such peace;
The world still, quiete,
Every noise a murmur that only wafts.

I only see color, I only smell life.
I don’t know if I am awake or sleeping,
I can live without knowing it, I want, to live without knowing it.

How would I know I am alive? How would I know I did be born?
How would I know what is “Being”?
Now it only matters the peace, the absolute, peace.
I don’t know how much I may have deepened,
But I did erase that blackness.
So it doesn’t matter when it’ll end anymore…

[War Council, Soldier!:
“If you can do it doped; sober you can do it as well or better”].

Lunar Strain

Blueish Moon

It is only a Star.

    It reflects the light,

    That which cannot be seen directly.

    To consecrate your life to something,

    To anything,

    It is only a Star.

    To symbolism,

    It symbolizes the Unconscious.

    I took down doors,

    That many don’t dare to cross,

    Many others even ignore they are there.

    It is only a Star,

    It symbolizes the silence,

    Powerful,

    Which can evoke any song.

    Almost like listening to it,

    Almost as if she were there…

    It is only a Star,

    Those doors won’t come back,

    They just cannot,

    For every step,

    Every single heartbeat,

    Is a point of no-return.

    That was one of the doors.

    It is only a Star,

    Ignored by most,

    To consecrate your life to something,

    To the unconscious,

    To Lunacy,

    That was lunatic,

    This door was black.

   It is only a Star,

    To be able to recall any memory,

    In absolute terms,

    Each context, each sensation,

    They sometimes come without having been conjured,

    That’s the price of non-oblivion,

    For that door is also gone now.

    It lives within me,

    Yet outside at a time,

    For it is only a Star,

    For it is also my unconscious,

    For “ello” is me,

    That door always were frail as crystal.

    It is only a Star,

    But it sets my Imagination Ablaze,

    Even though she should have died.

    That door was the most painful,

    But I am already here,

    Something says “stop”,

    Something yells “Fool! Take advantage of it”.

It is only a Star,

    It makes me deceive myself,

    Into believing I can be only with her,

    One to another,

    With nothing external.

    That door shall never be destroyed,

    Because you are reading this,

    Because communication is always two-wayed,

    For it keeps me tied to life.

Now and forever: From Daniel Prior to Eva Luna.

Poem of non-poetry

They are two and come home from partying.

They are two and she’s María.

They are six, very manly,

Who ignore cowardy. 

The men tell the other gal she can go,

She does without a doubt.

They are six and she is one.

What this game is about.

And after the barbarism, they left her for dead,

She very could have died that night.

She is one, her name María.

She is one, ill from guilt.

Her so-called friends made jokes on it.

Her family didn’t give her due support.

She is one, her name María.

There’s but solitude, there’s nothing but will…

To not die.

Abruptly, the seed explodes

Will.

Will to live. Will to Power.

She is one, her name María

She is one and only training exists.

She is one and her name is María.

She is one, and so there’s a God, so she trains.

And so years pass by..

She is one and her name is María.

Goes out in plain night, with suggestive wears.

She is one, and María is her name.

That night they were four.

Poor candies…

For she is one and María is her name.

She is one and remembers her training.

She is one and armed herself to the teeth.

Her name is María, as she grasped her iron punch.

As usual, she left nothing to chance.

She ensured they wouldn’t survive.

Thus doing favours to this sick world.