Death

Watch as Death rides his pale horse
Chasing the alive through eternity's doors
Every second collecting souls
That is the way Death tolls
Fearful creature with black cloak
His scythe shines fiercely with each stroke
Oh, my friend, how can you tell
If he'll send your soul to Heaven or Hell.

Hugo

Rasp and hammer of sturdy complexion,

Strike and split, carve and chisel.

Pumice and sand work hand in hand,

Giving birth to Hugo

A pristine star.

A splendid marble sculpture,

On its granite pedestal.

Reflecting white light in striking rays,

Like a divine halo.

Gawking eyes and open mouths

Are Hugo's favorite sight.

The visitors, in turn,

Perceive a godly art.

Hugo stands frozen in laughter,

Arms raised to his shoulders,

Palms up, almost pleading.

His naked chest is smooth and strong,

Yet it heaves not.

The fine arts museum is closed for the night.

Hugo stands quiescent,

In mute cold and fright.

He threatens to move,

And disrupt the silence

With his furious laughter.

But remains still,

Unmoving.

The XIV century clock goes

Tic, Tac

Tic

Tac

Love Me in Daylight

Eat my soul with a kiss.
Let the air

fall

j m
u p

And the fire.
S
p
i
l
l
the clamor of your wishes
And hummmmm a psalm for me.

Little by little,
Drinking at instances from your stare,
I get drunk off your sweet, sweet aura.

I'm your medicine
And you are my sickness.

In this jigsaw puzzle,
We are pieces of a perfect match.

Your name tattooed on my forehead,
Your chain embedded in my skin.

Step out of the shadows,
The creaking shadows,

Die in me because we'll live,
Sugar canes for you and me.

Love me in daylight.

My Only Company

The windows are open,
The curtains dancing.

I sway on the hammock,
Cuddled coldly, drowsily.

Looking at my dirty fingernails.
Biting them away, one by one.

A man on the radio is babbling unintelligibly
The signal is full of static.
It's just an old radio with three turning buttons.

Sipping vodka through the curling straw,
Letting it swing up and down the plastic straw.
Fire cascades down my throat,
Splashes inside of me soundlessly.
Hardly glorious.

A crow settles on the verdana's rail
Stirring thick layers of dust.
Its obsidian eye locks with mine
I turn away, the beast squeaks triumphantly.

Sipping a little more,
Smelling imaginary banquets of chicken salad
And gingerbread men,
Listening to "One Love" on the radio,
Biting the last nail off.
Losing myself in the blackness,
The sparrow's blackness.

Smiling cynically for the beast,
And the golden ring in its beak.

The beast's mocking stare,
The only one there.
My only company.

Little Girl

There she was across the street

Hugging the light post,
Like a sweet sugar cane.
Swinging herself,
Around and around.

Her skirts fly up
Her skirts fly down.

Her mirthful laughter runs away,
Away in a whirpool of whispering breeze.

Red shoes like Dorothy's,
Tapping away on the sidewalk,
Seem to have a life of their own.

She wears a stole,
A rich, red stole.
It cuddles around her neck,
Flows down her subtle cleavege.

I falter in my step,
Cross the street,
Looking both ways.

Approaching the shining doll,
Her giggles caress my ears.

Pause.
Red-blood lips,
Jet-black eyelids,
Gin perfume.

"Want some company?" she asks,
And tears away my ears.

I heave on the yellow-brick road.

The Monster

It has a dearth of extremities,
still, it strongly snares you.
One single glimpse,
is hard to resist
At first it diverts
But as it enchants
time tends to elapse.

Millions of Medusas
Distributed at every home.
Incredibly,
It's not alive
Different sounds it makes,
brightening your face.
It eats powerful light,
used to get its job done.

Nobody notices the damange
and it is considered a friend.
And after spending,
half your life in front of it,
you decide to do something else;
but it is too late.

Corruption

Fearful earthquake
Endless night
Smiling masks
play chess,
with life-sized figures
Fake, public acts
Truthful crimes
Fair hand on the table,
winning ace hidden down
Beautiful, thick curtains
A space not occupied
A man not humanized

Sweet Subway

The walls seem to cave in.
Gray ties all around,
Stained, broken, smeared
or vandalized.

The loud screeching of the train,
as it runs over rusted reels,
bounces violently in her ears.

She walks faster,
as the midnight darkness
seems darker than ever.
And the shadows seem
to creep around mischievously.

The echo of her footsteps
teases her.
She tosses her wavy hair backwards,
trying to grasp a glimpse over her shoulder.













The sound of water dripping nearby
sets a deadly silence.
She holds her breath,
and the water drips,
slowly,
continually.

A crispy touch of a gush of wind
caresses her cheek.
She draws the scarf around her neck,
and stands quietly,
alone,
waiting
for the midnight train.

Lifeless

The energy was sapped,
just like that.

Like a tarnished sock,
smeared with mud
and a pathetic hole
down by the heel.

When the vehicle struck.

Losing its essence,
like a rubber ball
that no longer bounces
to the endless void.

It was instantaneous.

Like the flight of a humming bird,
catching up with the evening breeze.

It will be forgotten, maybe.

Like a Bugs Bunny toy,
stuck in the attic;
home of the creepy spiders
that crawl over its grubby face.

The accident ocurred last night.

The Closet

Her life has not diminished
quickly enough.
Everyday,
sitting in the wheelchair,
dressed in white robes,
expecting someone to walk
through the door
during visiting hours.

She thinks they've locked the door.
Visiting hour's over.

She opens the closet,
and stares at her familiar things.
The picture of a grinning boy
with a fish in his hand.
She reaches for a book with no cover.
Opens the yellow pages
with her purple-dotted hands.
Inside lies a dry rose,
the carmine color barely preserved in
SIXTY years.
An awkward smile
appears across her face,
the prairie smell persists,
She reaches in for a silken tie
and with it,
shakily caresses her wrinkled face,
trying to suck all the warmth left in it,
if there's any...

Ring!
Time for the soup.

She closes her life carefully,
making sure everything's in there,
and leaves,
locking the door,
twice.

Old

A retirement home,
so they say.
A prison of fading memories.
Bars of wrinkles hold me down.
The smell of serum burns my nostrils.
The machine hooked to my heart,
beeps slowly,
very slowly.

I'm a child once more,
and it doesn't make me blissful.

The rusty wheelchair screeches,
my wobbly hand barely moves it.

Facing west,
I sit and linger,
for Him to come.

Maybe, tomorrow.
Never, yesterday.

See you,
time for my medicine.

Innocence Flew Out the Window

Beside the stuffed elephant,
lie his Lucky Strikes.

The elephant's ears, tattered to shreds,
job of the pocket knife.

The obscene writings
on the Mickey Mouse wallpaper
glare fiercely and affronting.

The alarm clock is set at two in the morning,
who knows what for.

The tiny butts, scattered all over the bed,
still oust their fiendish reek; infiltrating.

A mere tot sleeps on a vinyl couch.
His scribbled hand supports his shaven head.
Something happens in his nightmares;
the scarred and bleeding image of a happy child
comes back.
However, out of grasp.

His bloodshot eyes open simultaneously.
And accustoming to present-day reality,
they close once more.
A quick prayer is all he needs,
to go back to sleep.

The moribund elephant
stares sadly upon the wreck.

Dominant Creatures

Cruel carnage of twenty heads
A silver trident sinks
into helpless flesh.
Barbaric creatures feast themselves
on the warm insides of their inferiors.
Wiping their dripping mouths
with delicate napkins,
savoring the cooked blood
of those who didn't have a chance.
Once at stakes,
now they're steaks.