BLOODISH
Este volumen de poemas recoge una serie de relatos en los que la palabra 'blood' —en su cruda literalidad y diversas resonancias— funciona como explícito hilo conductor. A la vez herida y testimonio. Escritos en una lengua que se tensa entre lo visceral y lo místico, entre lo oscuro, lo perverso y lo ciertamente apocalíptico, los textos surcan dantescos paisajes de ruina, ira, memoria y redención.
Cada tramo del recorrido propone una variación sobre el trauma y su eco: cuerpos intervenidos, voces distorsionadas, imágenes que se descomponen hasta rozar lo sagrado o lo abyecto. La progresión está estructurada como una espiral descendente y ascendente a la vez: no es lineal, pero sí inevitable. La voz poética se mueve entre el lamento y la amenaza abismal, entre el virulento deseo de extinguirlo todo y la necesidad de preservar un resto, aunque mínimo sea, de cordura, humanidad, esperanza o piedad. Su lectura no admite la tibieza.
La nueva serie poética se erige como un eslabón natural en la trayectoria del autor: continúa la mirada trazada en su inmediata antecesora, "Body & Soul", casi como si se comprendiera a sí misma en clave de digna prolongación. No se trata de una repetición, sino de una expansión que insiste en adentrarse en los claroscuros de la existencia y en la tensión irreductible que define la dualidad nuestra condición. Los textos parecen dialogar entre sí, sosteniendo una línea de investigación estética que combina introspección y crítica, mientras se ensayan nuevas modulaciones de sentido en un territorio en permanente riesgo, donde el cuerpo y el espíritu, lo íntimo y lo colectivo, lo real y lo simbólico, se entrelazan.
En su segundo poemario publicado en idioma inglés, el autor despliega su habitual imaginería gótica y mantiene intacto el deseo de ironizar y provocar. La sangre, como símbolo inmodificable, permanece; late, mancha, gotea, une y separa. Sangre es lo que prevalece cuando todo lo demás del papel ya ha sido borrado. "Bloodish" no pide ser comprendido, sino atravesado.
1
A bath of inspiration
without blood in your veins
you can try it as it is
quite literally or vice versa
every shade is just a moment in time
an established pattern to catch your attention
have you seen a growing flower on a red dyed soil?
now tell me what you think about love crimes
worldwide, it happens one every minute
and I've just found
a rock size piece of skull
untouched by the hands of time
the rest of our traces have been already dissolved
and be thankful I don't have you within reach anymore
even though you know 'll do anything for you
even kill you
2
In the tip of the tongue I carry the answer
some old fashioned word like devil
a sinner like me needs nothing more to get turned on
than a believable alibi
there's no time to rest for the weary
he who never was ever made a mistake
the terrible thing about killing
is what comes afterwards
this is the aftermath
and a conscious effort will never be enough
each murder is a postulated syndrome
that remains to be solved
as it's human race primal flaw
long gone you're overwhelmed by the future ahead
personally, I would prefer to end this century
with a massacre that sheds tons of fake blood
3
I've been cast out for years
implicitly, it carries the idea of sacrifice
as violence tends to impose it's own rules
removing casualties from the gaze of others
there's a strange scent reminding me
all of the lost ones are long gone
and as soon as possible I must be possessed
wounded, choked, eaten alive
this is time of deliverance
once that you've found enough reasons to seek and destroy
in the quickest succession
the basic needs of a human being can be filled
the most striking thing about our species is a tragic paradox
with every deed we bow toward sin
we do nothing but restrict the genuine chance
of a more civilized world than the one we dwell in
4
Following death's footsteps
as it's divine providence
how far are we from understanding?
human nature congeals every single chance
the behavior we display is what we ultimately cannot tame
through a language inhabited by violence
for the pleasure of blasting your fellow man
a mouth unbridled turns questionable truths into shrapnel
in my power remains to withhold every single word
silence is golden while widespread blindness endures
finitude itself comes inscribed in hardcover
sometimes I feel I'm in a solo mission written all over blood
my terrifying and manic will is not enough
what, in effect, defines us is what I fear the most
amid a feast of tumultuous attendance
the irons continue to sing their sinister song
5
All that has been left unsaid
all of the sudden, it seems
an unwitting target
I will not be
insignificance is impossible to evade
alongside those who perished due to recklessness
I've just seen the whole line
the wounded, the dead and me
if you could squirt your eyes and visualize
God's mind imploding
as everything already occurred in the past
each bloodline is also written
oh, it's so devastating!
what happened was exactly what I expected
these unfathomable emotions
are my darkest forlorn
6
An ultimate act of nostalgia
as your restless, latest ache
a light smear of blood slides down your spine
with hot bursting pain
your're under my latest intent
and devotion tastes like sweet, smoky incense
I can bite you to the edge until your marrow starts to beg
but I won't stop -no, I wont
as unintentional manslaughter is
my inspiration multiplies your deepest fears
it's the most obscene scene I could ever imagine
nothing like what you could have wished for before
I'm notorious, injurious
quite your dearest endeavor
I would give you the best of me
but it's awful bad
7
Growing self-hatred
God broken soul
dead to a world
where sanity has been lost
and despite of it one would not give up on oneself
not even under the devil's right hand
although the devil should be
scared of myself
the whole in wich I live
hurts more than the one before
it turns children into killers
can't wait to see them grow
tomorrow will be the sons of the son of Sam
no true bang ever came to be as such
yet if weight lies in the thought alone, I can delight you all
with a grand finale blood bath of my own
8
Hush, little darling
and be careful of what you say
nowadays everyone can hear you
and is ready to rip you apart
some tongues are sharper than swords
they wound without drawing a single drop of blood
If God does not pour out his infinite grace
the harm you are capable of doing is meaningless
what we once knew as paradise has been delayed
the most livid banquet we have ever had
when compassion reaches out to us, we'll no longer have
all the time in the world
save for a cup of poison to toast with
for those who shamelessly knew
how to look into the eye of human made terror
without looking away
9
A crown of ashes settles on the sky
around us looms a crimson warning, nowhere to run
illusions shatter with clipped wings
while carefree sweethearts lie scabbed over
their laughter buried, their heartbeat drab
their footsteps faltered, time will not mend
but under the big red sun
yet love still trembles
one last romance
one last smash
as silence sings with cruel decree
we peel ourselves
and after all, all there is a dead end
the most placidly end
the end of the real looking things
this is the end of the world, my dear
10
The punishment of thinking in silence
lies beneath this tombstone
just out of misanthropy
you will not be allowed to hear your own yell
I'm afraid I can't help it
and you have become half-life
catalepsy's the probable outcome
of the most rare collateral effect
cocooned in bone
behind a blank, lizardlike stare
your longing of a dream is now a hollow limbo
with nothing in between
from here to there, as far as the eye can see
reigns a desolated kingdom
empty as the significance of the other side
already dead inside
11
Tuning out the end with grace
so tender's the fracture of belief
as silence bursts louder than the scream
of promises broken before they were spoken
a thread of voice got stuck between my teeth
like static on an interrupted channel
quite mercilessly is the rhythm of decay
turning the most desperate howl into total emptiness
a bridge of echoes is woven over me
I'll guess I'll learn to rise within the séance
for it seems I cannot reach the living
not anymore
how come don´t you wonder for that strange mark on the wall?
still getting broader, days dissolving into decades
while a caravan of ghosts icily greets me
guiding me all the way, all away
12
A maze of odd rooms and steamy passageways
hollow bells that never chime
this is your likeless kind of heaven
my natural environment
behind a facade of fainted breaths
fractured mirrors are feeding the dark
all but eternal night remains undeciphered
among a line of unborn filling the horizon
gravity's folding upon itself
the pulse of nothingness awakes
veins of shadow are blooming in motionless cycles
while I hear a hymn no voice can make
this is my finishing picture
I'm in suicide watch right now
as we live in time
winding down
13
It's funny how humans contaminate the continuation of their own kind
thinking they deliberately choose who to fuck
but maybe we're all just the victim
of a perfect crime
nature's plan is a twisted chemical programming
love is such a creative force
as destructive in every possible way
what is the boldest thing you dare to do in it's name?
love can easily get out of hand
caught in a violent tremor of frozen stump
to the point of gut ourselves
come hell or high water
oh, these killing machines!
so death enhancing
whenever they aim
it's self-inflicting in the end
14
In my latest surgeon's hideout
everything is as cold and aseptic as it should be
I'm no stranger to the chambers where death lurks
there are still spaces and places I wish you'll come along
what I actually carry deep down inside
demands the precise and most necessary cruelty
sharpened like a scalpel blade
ready to tear your amazement even wider
I'm looking forward for new lacerations
so your sadism can sneak quite well under my skin
with just another twist in the opposite direction
I'll go gently on a twirk smile
licking wound by wound
undoing the final line
I'm watching my wrists bleeding out!
but, oh, the dead can't get hurt!
En progreso...