You are
supposed to
kill me
some day
but
I am
of the
same
swoosh
of
the scythe
how will
I
slaughter
my own
being
with the
bullet
of
my iron
joy
?
You are
supposed to
kill me
some day
but
I am
of the
same
swoosh
of
the scythe
how will
I
slaughter
my own
being
with the
bullet
of
my iron
joy
?

All that I prophesy
is the way the world
spirals unto itself
there
space and dream
hibernate into consciousness
the product of my speech
is the withdrawal of meaning
in words
from reality to possibility
multiplying the interior
by tearing asunder
every perception
into further
fragments
ultimately
I have noise
as fur over the idea
of myself
beauty
sideways to phenomena
precipitates
towards the pinpoint
of my
heart
Modern Poetry Blog

I was born Dionisio Palacios
in the poverty
of my hands
I wished I had
the sky heavy with light
as a noon of sweet fruit
so I could taste the earth
I lived in Rua Moderna
between two worlds
that made me feel
like a schism
separating the two
I worked with letters
languages whose words
could evoke
daybreaks in my
blinding madness
I was sentenced to death
and hanged
for the murder of an ideal
an abstract sin
the abomination of believing
that nothing exists
but the whisper of the stars. . .


the usurpers
of hope
are
the realists
taking
extremity poetry
as
the last
bed
where
chance
has
a last
chance.

I wear thirteen-year-old T-shirts
but I spray them with the most expensive colognes around
I don’t buy them, only use the testers
I’m socially awkward so I might come close
to touch your hair without asking for your permission
you’d probably punch me
but I’ll say that I’m weird and sorry
I’ve never punched anybody in my life, please don’t hurt me
I’m not afraid to write a poem
when something beautiful touches me inside
I see my drunkenness as a preface to wisdom
when I drink a poem I become a mystic
when I peruse your vodka I become a breathing metaphor
I use my sadness as a dictionary
to decipher the language of modern civilization
I do not wish to bore you with my autobiography
when you are done, burn up this poem and use the flame
to warm up your soul.

what a load of narrow bullshit. yes, you are right for the great mayority of drunks but for the conscious anarchist-skeptic new-order-boredom-activists, godless yet spiritually-revolutionary, existential philosophical apostles of nothingness. Yes, the absurdist theorists in the field of elementary positivism and groundless rationalism. That is I, I the drunk, ready to abolish street names and currency values, but infinitely afraid of the content of canned beer to be disposed of, in toilets, I must, we must, drink those brewed liquids meant to appease the lower levels of the civilized brain. Shit, this has already made evident the wilderness of my thought, that is, the irregular paths of my thinking, which may, to the ordinary mind, border on insanity. But I must submit to any, and all, greater forces, for I already know and organically feel the power of that physics that controls my biology and the course of my thinking and action. I am the Wall Street of passion that will scorch the planet in a memory of profit. Or is that the nightmare that we call routine and career? Whatever the verdict, why not stare at the night?

Acuéstate
púrpura de existencia
sobre mi sien irreflexivo
vierte
toda la ambigüedad
con la que formulas
el deseo
me dirijo como hojas secas
por el barrio subjetivo
donde nadie conversa
¡con que fuerza cierras esta ventana!
no, no la vida
sino mis brazos espeluznantes
expeliendo la luz
antes del amanecer
en negrura pura
descifré las leyes naturales
de mi excéntrica órbita
Ego equivale a Multiplicidad por Cuerpo
elevado al círculo
cada pensamiento una confesión
un monólogo en eco
ondas propagándose por el tiempo
sin origen
ni centro.


My creator
has abandoned me
the hands that spun these
verses
are now caressing
night axioms and
mysticisms,
the poet left
me
a poem
sunken
somewhere lost
in the motions
of the automatic world,
I am the victim
a spirit
that occupies briefly
whatever soul
treads these words
but, alas
ultimately doomed
to perish
as your
eyes
approach
my final
sigh.
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