What does it feel like being back in California?
The whole town is one big spa!

I sit here loving my homeland
Watching it be burnt, pillaged and destroyed
I look at my friends and peers and see them all running away
Massive exiles flying out of here

Could I live here again without the help of my new land?
I wouldn’t want to try
Could I have been who I am without the help of my new land?
Great question, I do not know

14 What If Years
What if I’d lived them here?
Who would I be now?
I wish I knew
Then somehow I’d know more about who I am

14 years without home
14 years where home was mystery and fairy land

Here I am again
The country’s now gone from a fairy tale into a horror story
But I found my dreams in the refuges and refugees of the past
Keeping the essence of the good country alive
And although barely surviving
Still holding the only part of it that can fulfill us to be who we are

I’m leaving for now
Back to the new land
As I walk through the streets I can feel my particles disappearing
My mind slowly leaving
Sometimes I’m happy Sometimes I’m sad
Sweet melancholy

Caught in a weird place in time
Where I am in two homes
But neither at the same time
And yet both so fully
Who am I?

My people are here and there
And me? Where am I?
I am both
Which parts? I am only beginning to tell
I love them both
One more human in an age of movement

Sipping on a drink of dark red wine
Smelling the fresh dirt of the land
Listening to the empty spaces of music in my mind
Looking at the pretty landscape feeling fine

The sky is clear, the wind serene
And from afar, a Gothic tower can be seen
The full moon keeps it company
The city sleeps, my soul awakens

And what’s inside?
A healthy dose from the Elixir

Sometimes the space in between words is what triggers the imagery
Like the silence in music, words have a way of speaking through what is not said

We often speak through this language
For the poet, it is how to elate the soul to the transcendental
For the lover, it is how to express their deepest feelings to their beloved

But what of those who try to use it to avoid something else from being said?
Imagery after imagery their words get thrown into so much supposition that they no longer know if anything has been said
The receiver thinks it understands, the speaker hopes it understands
A whole new communication builds onto itself, only lost in an underworld of what has not been said out loud
And then?

…………………

As a writer, I love the empty spaces
But I depend on the reader’s synchronicity to me
As a philosopher, I move away from the spaces
And work on clarity, elongating everything for the sake of precision
For the philosopher, words are math
We define the fundamental words out of which to begin our thinking
We systematize the number of syllogistic arguments that can possibly be made
We work within the well-defined rules of logic

Words – sometimes so obscure – sometimes so clear
Capable of art
Capable of science
Capable of math
Beautiful

When did we stop looking at the stars?
When did we cease to wonder what’s behind our minds?
When did we start admiring the knowledge of ribosomes, penicillin and black holes more than the Wisdom of living a good life?

After all, don’t we still die today?
Don’t we still hurt today?
Is poverty not still massive?

When did we choose to be machines?
When did our fears become our reason for living?
When did our guilt drive us away from God?

Back to the Cave we have gone, willingly
But Plato, still alive, reminds us of the sun outside

They say his writing is very dry
Dry like all that is old from our past
Disconnected, as if from another world

And us? Bombarded by our senses
Desperate for movement in our brains
Too fast to appreciate anything that does not jump our neurons from place to place

Focus!
It is important

That other world holds the key
Its pace, its advantage
It looked at the stars
It thought about depth
It was made of people, just like us, but slower, and wiser

What is today’s world but a constructed reality?
A place where toys are taking us into a deeper and deeper fiction
What is the past? Our escape from ourselves

What happens when you want to say so much that you say nothing at all?

Nadando entre docenas de personas
Observando a los niños lanzandose de clavado en cadena

La musica alegre toca
Hasta los Billos cantan de la noche buena y el año nuevo
Por lo parlantes también nos entretienen
Con bingo y muchas otras habladuras

Todas las familias están alegres
Parrilla para todos, jugos para todos, tequeños para todos
Todos sonrien, todos descansan
Es un Domingo y el Refugio está activo

Dice este lugar que existe desde hace 27 años
Pero yo me siento en los años 60
Hasta busco quien modele un diseño nuevo
Porque creo estar en otra era

El lugar es inmenso y de viejas riquezas
Dos piscinas, un estable, una tasca, un restaurante, mucho terreno
Entre montañas suntuosas que nos pierden
De la ciudad y sus ruidos ya lejanos aunque todavía a proximidad cercana

La gente baila en la piscina
Las canciones son de los 80, la vida es de los 80
Pero con un estilo de corazon y humanidad, directo de los viejos tiempos
La alegría aquí adentro tan intensa como la del pánico de afuera

Entre las rejas vivimos el Refugio
Dentro de poco hay que salir
Ya de noche y mas peligroso
Viajando rápido y con cautela

Todo está oscuro, nada se ve
No hay señales sino de criminales en la via
Y nosotros, acelerados por llegar de nuevo
A otro Refugio aunque un poco mas pequeño que el del Club

Todo nos lo estan derrumbando
Pero todavía tenemos a donde ir

————————————

Swimming in between dozens of people
I watch the kids deep dive into the pool

The Latin music is playing
Even the Billo’s sing Happy Birthday and New Year songs for no good reason at all
Through the speaker a man entertains us
With Bingo and other games

All the families are happy
BBQ for all, drinks for all, appetizers for all
Everyone smiles, everyone rests
It is a Sunday and the Refuge is active

This place says that it’s 27 years old
But I feel like in a place from the 60′s
I even look for new design in people’s clothes
A little sign that I’m indeed in my era

The architecture is solid and immense, a legacy of old riches
Two pools, a lake, a horse stable, many restaurants and lots of land
Placed inside magnificent mountains that lure us into another world
Away from the noise of the city close by

The people dance in the pool
The songs are from the 80′s, life here is from the 80′s
An openness of heart no longer felt elsewhere, the good times still alive
Happiness inside as intense as panic is outside

In between gates we enjoy the Refuge
Pretty soon we have to leave
Already evening and dangerous outside
Having to journey carefully and expediently

Everything is dark, nothing is visible
There are no signals on the streets other than criminals walking about
And we, we are in a rush
To arrive again to yet to another refuge, one smaller than the Country Club

Everything is being torn apart
But we still have places where we can go to

Caminando por la calle
El vapor del sol hierve mi cuerpo
Soy uno más, hay tensión en todos lados
Tensión que surge desde el adentro de nuestra conciencia
Donde el miedo de las historias que nos cuentan nos espanta

La bulla confunde
Hay mucho carro, mucho pito, mucha metrópolis
Mucha risa, mucho estudiante, mucho heladero
Pero tambien hay mucha persona callada
Cautelosa, viendo para todos los lados

Entre los ruidos ajenos, los pajaros cantan
Nos recuerdan del Gran Valle que nos mira por encima
De los árboles verdes que se pierden entre los edificios altos
De la paz y tranquilidad de un mundo pasado
Un mundo ahora en una Guerra Invisible

Recien salí de la panadería en donde estaba tranquilo
En donde me tome un café
En donde la bulla era de amigos
En donde el servicio era lo que yo quería
En donde me senté comodamente con mi teléfono

Ahora estoy en la calle rumbo a mi destino
Teléfono en el bolsillo, protegido
Caminando en donde toda persona es culpable
En donde las risas son para los conocidos
Estoy en territorio enemigo

La ciudad esquizofrénica
Crea dos mundos distintos de existencia
Uno tras las rejas pero cómodo y seguro
El otro al aire libre pero sangriento y doloroso
El día a día compuesto de pura incertitud

Pero las sonrisas siguen…
El pasado sigue siendo el presente…
El corazón continúa..
No me voy…
Aqui somos

I lay on the floor singing
A glass of whiskey by my side

Dark notes are playing
The piano is alive

I walk towards the sea
Towards its depths I move with pleasure

On the sky vibrant colors
Are blossoming like flowers big and without measure

I do not know what to say
I just know what to feel
All bottled up inside, unexpressed
In a creative mood
Too broken to create

Messy messy head
Scattered everywhere
Where is that order you love?
Why have you let yourself fall so?

The Heart
The Spirit
Dead.
But alive.
Dead.
But alive.

A walking contradiction
Paradox or parody?

I have to take the latter
It’s just funnier that way

is a killer.