guily pleasures

I sometimes take an e-moment
to check if anyone has commented on this blog
i find pleasure in the million times
I have looked to find no-one cares

often

before I write another obsolete little verse
I take a minute to relax
sit on the floor, barefoot
and focus on my breathing
study my movements like a blueprint
see me from afar

i assume

the words will fall from †he highest end of the table
and what will reach the low will only be static

Thing 1

Walking away I rejoice in the hands
Tuning it up, ahead with the band
Final days fill old sacks
It's good, good to be back

i dig

Stealin’ a tusk from an elephant must make one feel creepy inside.
And although you’ll boast around the fire at night . . .
That ghost will kick up a fight.
“Be gone? Be gone?”, you scream . . .
You’re just some elephant dream . . .
I needed you like you needed me . . .
People, they need piano keys.
.jim james

how to say

how can a poor mind describe
the way time passes by
how can i reflect the change
i assume, i maintain

I very much dig

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVC2cszdTao&feature=rec-HM-fresh+div

entry of character #4

wearing black on misty noons
stating the opposed, the ignored, the refused
keeping beat of distant grooves
always new, always in, all in tune

I am awake now
I'm willing to
I feel brand new

talking back the feelings hid
through other mouths, on other means
through city bulbs, never lit
walking from, heading in

I am awake now
I'm willing to
I feel brand new

Believe you, me
When it's dark
They agree
Believe you, me
it could get
very dark

The Interview 2.0

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=MXLMQFPM

Una Mañana Soleada por Jose Puig

(Jose Puig nacio en 1989 con marcas de fuego y llama)

Una mañana soleada
Una mañana soleada salí de mi primera clase del día. Compre el periódico, un café, y un cigarrillo y me senté en las soleadas escaleras a disfrutar mis compras, este momento era significativo, y simbolizaba placer y daba a mi rutina control y tranquilidad. Seguí a mi siguiente clase, el remolino de rostros transitando por los pasillos, una masa humana de rostros, algunos gordos, otros feos, blancos, rojos y negros, maliciosos, estúpidos, entristecidos, inteligentes, la juventud de México resumida en aquellos rostros, viciosos algunos, pulcros otros, razas nacionalidades, ideologías reunidos en esta magna institución.

La masa de personas hacia difícil el andar, mas aun con un quinto cigarrillo en mi boca, forcejeando con mi papeleo y subiendo escaleras adornadas con carteles de distintos tipos. En esos tiempos podías encontrar carteles desde prevenciones sanitarias contra la pandemia porcina, hasta carteles de convocación huelguista en pro de la liberación de presos políticos a partir de la vigencia de Marx y el Comunismo.

Que enorme variedad de perspectivas y estilos de vida, de clases e intereses entre los cientos de estudiantes. Y yo entre ellos, asombrado y maravillado por el oscuro corredor del conocimiento en el que me encontraba. Pues el conocimiento no era para mí esa luz al final del camino, sino más bien una tortuosa y épica aventura, llena de obstáculos, miedos y luchas.

Así fue como pase a formar parte de las filas de militantes de la UNAM. Aun no me inclinaba con pasión por ninguna tendencia política pero la influencia primordialmente socialista empezaba a germinar en mí y en mi estilo de vida.

Cuando por fin llegue a mi salon, tome asiento, y me puse a escuchar los tambores y cuernos aztecas que un grupo de estrafalarios jóvenes hacían sonar en el patio adyacente. Que diría mi abuela si me viera ahora, ataviado con la misma ropa desde hace un año, sucio, fumador empedernido, y adicto al café, sosteniendo un periódico de izquierda, en una clase de historia de México, donde la maravillarte voz del profesor se mezclaba con el penétrate sonido del cuerno de caracol azteca de antaño.

El pintoresco paisaje que se desenvolvía a mis ojos me decía algo. Estudiaba por estudiar, una llama joven sin responsabilidades ni deberes, con locura en la cabeza y experiencias en el pasado.

framework

"Oh my eyes,
they don't see
anything at all
of what you speak.
Or my mind
lies to me
to play along
with anyone I see.

It's too big
how you draw,
I lie trampled over feet.
It's too dark
it's too deep,
I wait steady for sleep."
she said upon retreat

Kill the night
Shake the thread
You may take a ride
Or stay in bed

Mourning

can you tell? do you see?
might you sing it to me?
I'll sing back, I promise
In the morning
can you sense? can it be?
might we all disagree?
to the changes coming
through the mourning

I feel fine
I'll disclose
even through
all this noise
I can pick up
the change in the tempo
I'll sing back
I'll sing back
Through the mourning

Squitzo

Angela went back to Italy. All over, the reports where spread. Tonight ready the bed for escicion. I dream, therefore I am not.

The Interview

When you look inside

Are you afraid sometimes?

Do you think no-one

Should ever be exposed?

Are you afraid for me

And all the love you see?

Or are you threatened

By the urge of letting go?

In time you’ll notice for sure

We are not highly evolved

Sacred beauty and horribly wrong

Shine on

You’re on the winning team

Or do you think I’m wrong?

At least you notice

People just go along

In time you’ll notice for sure

We are not highly evolved

Let it out

Speak it up

Come together

When you look inside

Are you amazed sometimes?

Do you think maybe

I could get along?

In time you’ll notice for sure

There’s just too much to explore

Let it out

Let it go

Let it in

Shine on

And come together

...

I love a gray morning
Waking up
after one of 'em
Traveling dreams
And the hours I've spent
Falling over
Your
Borderless seams

Seems,
For the concerns of "me",
I broke the confusion
And I'm stuck
In the same old street

Escuche

Jarvis Cocker dijo que Leonard Cohen dijo:
"It's easy to show a scar,
It's hard to show a pimple."

Stepping Stones

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=TM2B01DO

Stepping Stones

I remember
The hiding place
That we once shared
It’s a passage
Full of stepping stones
From where I stay
To where I lay

But weather changes ways
In our imagination things can change
I feel alone somedays
And your last letter read “I’m feeling strange”

We grew up, now
My old friend
And we came around
It’s like thunder
In the afternoon
When you beg for rain
Then you get your way

Cause weather changes ways
In our imagination things can change
I feel alone somedays
But your last letter read “she feels like home”
If she feels like home
Then we’re happy

Just don’t forget
who you once were
and that destinations
Start somewhere

Cause weather changes ways
In our imagination things can change
I need a brand new world
The one outside makes me feel insane

Heading West

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=W8HGPI7R

heading west

She was born late december
He was born late last afternoon
I wonder how they went on through
Without anyone noticing. You
Never know just how it happens
Never know just how to fit in sense
Only took what they had coming
Ooh, Ooh

Heading west

When I was a little greener
A little more than I am now
Thought I was a western hero
Caught inside another time
But war swept past my garden
While I was hiding in the shed
Only take what you have coming
Ooh, Ooh

Heading west

Together and alone
Together and alone
Together and alone

Heading west

Train Lines

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=DC89V5W5

It's been said...

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=US4L6W02

It's been said 1.0

It’s been said
“The end was here before
It’s better just to fold”
You see the problem?
I heard
It’s not worth fighting for
It’s never worth the fall
I agree

Maybe it’s me
But planted puzzles in your bed
All about books you’ve never read
They never pardon

It comes through gallops in your head
The feelings echo till you’re dead
Then they don’t matter

And I can’t
Act like I should care
About politics and air
When they are there

Maybe it’s me
But from the height of my treehome
You all look clueless, all alone
And never free

It may sound beautifull to see
All the things your garden springs
But not for me

Perhaps all I need to see is the sunrise
All I need to hear is the cry

Don’t they all look like they know (what they talk about) x3

Back

From the midst of pornography

Fellow Rock III

Just because you’re there
doesn't mean you’re in the right place
Fellow rock stands still
in it's far away location.
Not to be away,
rather wants to stay

Fellow rock rolled down
not so long ago;
Found a place,
thought it belong.

But no more...
Nothing seems to go,
until it's pushed along.

"Changing things is right."
Whispers the highway sign

Fellow rock awaits

.... BB King gave me a guitar and went back to Chi-town

I`m always chasing dragons
With a sword that`s made of tin
So I know in my soul
There`s no way I can win
I tried, oh I tried
But there`s no place, no place to go
There`s no one here who knows me
And no one here I know
I`m a stranger and afraid
In a world I never made

the pandemonium blues

Well I went down, to Mississippi
And I went down, in a combi
Now I lay... down again
I lay... down again

I went up, to get higher study (or `high or study` depending on context)
I went up, met all kinds of shares
Now I lay... down again
I lay... down again

I sure see
I'm not there, it doesn't mean a thing
And I'm still sorry

Earthquakes and crisis
And no-one's looking out for us
I got the pandemonium blues

So it goes...

Well it’s a change in the tides
Or a change in the name
Man, it’s always the same
I don’t care for that

Believe in words I created
They’re growing out of my mind
It’s only a moment
Or hundreds compressed
This love’s a test

But then it rattles inside
And it rattles about
And I come back to the city
Isn’t it a pity

It’s only a moment
Or hundreds compressed
This love’s a test
I’m not there

Morning

In my seven hundred halls I shall rest
In twelve bridges and forty-six lakes
Waving a flag of time above my head
I will spend new year’s eve on no-man’s-land

With so much to see and so little time
I’ll wander within my nine gardens
Forgetting the mistakes that led me here
Forgetting the road switching and the cost

In my shed by the ocean I shall hear
A million echoes but without one word
I’ve been knocking to hear the sound composed
It doesn’t matter if I sing along

It takes so much calling out to madness
Nights of genius at the tip of the tongue
Waiting for the sun amongst the flowers
As if morning lit up fumes of insight

Not to let you in, rather let it out
The door opens