A little lower

In the trembling present
In the foothills of the mountain forest
In the greenery of buildings
In the subjectivity of opinion
A mind exists, and wanders
A mind active, escapist from focus, fleets.

In the boundary of cement and water,
Precisely on that shore,
Precisely where earth gets at,
Precisely there with so much cloud on top.

A heart wishes, a little lower, hopes, pulsating
A heart made of muscle,
A heart that dies alone.

In the immensity of it
An eagle catches the worm in flight
Decapitation of the small.
Thrown into the water.

A little lower. Hunted.
Eaten.

Crayzay Messages for 30s

Now, in for the crayzay, this is Part II of a rap that has found itself across a single London night where conciousness ran wild in Angel:

35. Time ain't gonna cure you honey, time is going to hit, so go just ahead

36. Farewell, my black balloon times, you are done, farewell now

37. If stuck, hit yourself, a chair hitting on my head

38. What you used to be? it does not matter, it is done

39. Leave it, put it, in its box.. used to be, WHAT CITY? WHAT LOVE? WHAT FAME? What New York used to be?

40. Come on! Come on! Come on!

41. What an amazing time! How did the years go by? Now it's only me. And the tick-tock, tick-tock. Scary conversations. Naturally concerned if I do it alone. WATCHU WAITING FOR!? WATCHU WAITING FOR?!

42. Life is short, you are capable

43. You still super hot, and damn, you, of all people, have got some wicked style

44. Take a chance you stupid hoe

45. Stop the language violence, speak clean

46. No longer loose my slant

47. Whatever impatience you have with the world, you have with yourself

48. To live, to breathe, and that is how you take it over - in the breathe is the self known knowledge that everything is ever-passing-phenomena

49. You should pee so much more often

50. Leaving a place and living in physical uncertainty is brutal, be prepared for it to destroy your psyche, and alas, ground yourself brother

51. Young hearts, run free

52. Want space, want a home, want location, want happy, bright, livable life

53. I recognise loneliness all too easily now, it has shape and form, let it go, very far away

54. Go to London, board a bus to the Glass Palace, it will take forever, write your thoughts, stream of conscience

55. Like hashtags, they make feel great systematic emotions

56. See neon lights on the ocean, the signs you want broadcasted, paint them

57. Big cities are brutal predators, beware

58. Bouncers treat people poorly, do not become one

59. Old farm stables should become houses, all of them

60. Music is needed to be shameless

61. Renting is a biatch - stop it!

62. Being light on soul cripples into the soul - unpolluted lives are lovely

63. Do not wear mini skirts in winter weather

64. Surpass the middle section of a notebook - you just passed a milestone, dedicated to it

65. Say out-loud that you are authentic - if unable, sort it, lying is a killing animal

66. When you live two lives, nothing is lived, nothing

67. You will be loved, you will be taken care off

68. Weekends can be lived at day or at night - these are mutually exclusive - you choose

69. Things need to be simple

70. Asking questions requires humility - it will save time

71. Give people the honor of your direct eye-sight

72. Noone is bad out of being evil, it all comes from ignorance - be patient, forgiving

73. You always know the reason why you cannot have the moon and the sky - move on

74. Lay me down, and leave me, for the lions - there dying

75. You do not measure progress from a starting point, but from an ending point

76. What is in Shepperd's Bush? Find out

77. You got the power to be, the power to see

78. Should not let you talk to me so sweetly

79. Step away from drowsiness

80. Smell great, every morning, bring fresh air

81. Surround yourself with big thinkers - challenge everything at least once a month

82. Seek mentorship

83. Give to charity, deflate your ego

84. Want nothing, ask for nothing

34 Thoughts for 30s

The craft is air-bound. My feet challenge movement. Over cast blue clouds and white cotton skies. The sky falls. And it does crumble. I head North.

Not about colors. Not much of that. More about this wanting to settle post so much movement. There is green covering my wrists. There are leaves and the promise of growth. On may respects: it is up to me!

The Goals of 2012-2013

1. Go look for an spacious flat and seek a lifestyle. The loft you want. The windows you need. The light.

2. Allow yourself to live in an area where buzz lives. And not where the weight of the world feels.

3. Do not isolate yourself. I know you want to.

4. Turn off the computer and share your life. Stop typing!

5. Seek and achieve fitness

6. Be fine, be dayam fine

7. Seek therapy - you are crayzay! Jokes aside, spiritual fitness is paramount

8. Culture + sports

9. Paint a masterpiece every time you engage with a canvas - strive for it, no less

10. Clean and lean inbox - no weights, no stress, respond right away

11. Treat yowself

12. Self-worth, no excuses

13. No lies, specially to yourself

14. If you are seeing someone, give a chance, stop requesting it all. It does not exist

15. Do not over-analyze - cats have four legs

16. Stop compromising yourself: you are all you got

17. Use your home as an asset - do not let it be idle. Celebrate people you love, use its spaces, make it productive, for whatever

18. When a Holiday comes - use it - for radical self-check.

19. There is nothing better around the corner - this corner has the best you can have right now

20. Learn to commit, be not afraid

21. Cut yourself some slack, relax, you are amazing enough

22. Find balance with work - become efficient, and know, a corporation will not love you back.

23. Learn to trust... specially your gut, it tends to know what is right

24. Stay active: do sports, try new, go for extreme every more than once in a while

25. Say what you mean, no more, no less

26. Remember that feeling of wanting to be inspired? You have all the inspiration you need. Surround yourself by great ones, openness, observation, it is all there

27. Find your smile, again, you used to laugh a lot when I met you

28. Lighten up, stop the heavy conversations, you do not even care that much and nothing good comes out of them

29. Laugh your loins out

30. Be plugged into technology - own it, stay on top, ride the wave, this is the only generation where this has happened

31. Vipassana some and then some more

32. Stop planning new projects, get the ones you have live, running, and performing

33. Design things that flip out your mind, your mind can, and is doing, needs to be executed

34. Rest and learn to sleep enough - take in the day, and let go of the night a bit earlier

En la Esquina del Joder

Ahora.
Nos encuentran sentados bajo el matorral.
Y apestamos.
Nos han cagado encima.
Y nos han orinado enteros.
Vivimos en la esquina del joder.

Vacas nos pisan.
Y por fin, una bolqueta asesina, nos lleva al potrero.
A ser desintegrados por todos los animales.
Que no haran mas hasta su captura.

Que vida la del potrero.
Esta vida de encierro.
Esta vida de transporte.
Esta vida sin camino.

Yo digo menos densidad.
Mas espacio.
Nadie nos orina,
ni nos ensucia,
el viento nos limpia,
y no estamos mas aqui.
Encerrados.
Olvidados.

Ser tierra encanta.
No hay liga alguna, a nada.
No ser esenciales. Nunca.
Minerales. Polvo.

Destrocen todo!

A tan pocos dias de treinta. A tan pocos minutos de la irrelevancia. Ya parece que a partir de hoy: todo cuenta. Todo se marca en el cuerpo. El pasado tiene facciones, aun cuando deberia ser olvidado. A tan pocos dias de treinta. Ser hombre. Ser nacional de alguna parte. Ser, de verdad, de la vida de nadie. Haber caminado, tanto. Ir a lugares y volver a ellos. Como si la pisada unica hubiera sido efimera. Transparente. Sombra sin huella. Ser constante, en vivir, y nada mas. Aun cuando uno vive inerte y es de piedra.

Tengo tantas confesiones por no hacer. No deber nada a nadie. No tener deudas. Solo caminos que quedan abiertos. Alla, cada cual en su camino. Y no hay pudor en la soledad. No hay sol. Solo bruma, ron de cuba, limon, y mucho hielo.

Escribir con esperanza: por que? Ya no soy el mismo. Ya no espero. Tengo sedimentos y capas de ellos. Intocable. Asi uno muere. Desencadenado: en planeta plano, derecho, seco.

Ahora, decir algo:

derriben todo!
rompan con todo!
destrocen sus vidas!
comiencen de cero!
ya no hay nada!
Intriga! Por algo!

Ya no mas por la tangente. Ahora solo por el centro. Querer y poder decir. Y heredar solo la verdad. Y no el aburrimiento y la pasividad de la vida pasante. Que quiero ver eternidad. Que haya cambio rotundo, para siempre. Que sea impredecible. Que no haya palabras. Que todo cambie. En serio.

[Sevilla, Mayo 2012, 30 for 30]

The Life of Pseudo

"Pseudo, you are my first. My first without a sketch. Without a pre-plan. Without meditation."

Cold beer. Hot afternoon. Window open. Neck turned upside down. Looking backwards. Legs, used, they have been running. Hand that shakes, it felt, it is bleeding, but it wants to paint.

This is how I see you Pseudo: like a man that emerges in a suit with blue lines. Lines that are geometrical. This man is covered by leaves everywhere. And green. And deep blue and elongated. See through bubbles of air. Falling diagonally. A butterfly farm at its earliest stage.

"Where they grow, them butterflies. You are from there"

And feet perhaps. With a tatooed black man. Urban, overimpossed on green man pseudo. You are all on the verge of disaster. But evolving. Organically through. Limping as bisquits in candle light. And growing in tress under sun light.

Pseudo can evolve in a different direction. It can and will go higher. It will increase pulsations. And bring them high. And create emotion. And emote. With the shapes of angles and with angles in shapes. And together for a family affair. I am there concerned about giving it a face. And can be a live that is bright, in trees and lines.

Que Quieres?

La vida vuela. El tiempo se rompe en mi frente. Canteras de piel escavadas. En los rastros de mi cara. No soy amable. Soy piedra. No siento. Soy de intocable materia. El corazon hueco. El tiempo acumulado. La perdida de tiempo. El carino inundado. La soledad pesa. Se lo lleva todo. Se lleva la capacidad de ser autentico. Y a uno le cambia todo. Como se comunica. Como se coordina. Como se abraza. Y no se entrega. Porque es eso. Uno no se entrega. No se si escribo esto o si en realidad es lo que siento. Es lo que quiero. O es lo que digo. Porque ya he dejado de saber que en verdad quiero.

Este Dedo que te Culpa

Recojo hortalizas;
las lanzo desde el barranco.

Me voy con ellas;
caigo de cara al rio.

Como hortalizas;
planto vegetables en mi plato.

Ahumo la vista;
todo apesta a pescado muerto.

Asesinos de caballos;
entrelazados y todo queda vacio.

Vienen nubes, y me voy con ellas.
Son caballos, son espejos, y me voy con ellos.

Es mi primer reflejo.
La primera vez que me veo la cara, 

ya muerta, 

ya perdida.

Son las piedras, es parte de la selva.
Parte cansancio, parte abuso, y es,
La luz de este dedo que apunta a la culpa.

[Cuzco, 30 Dic 2011]

That rap song

Ever newer trails. Get it. You are walker. You is walker. You are walking.

This means stepping back. Mind perpetually. Open. Observant. Calm.

Not a bygot. Not a truth owner. Nor teller. A world onlooker.

Not a prophet. But a stepper backer. Towards arrival.

Cicciolina, Tu, My Life

The year starts today. Grandly and with dried tomatoes hanging loose off the wooden beam. With all the garlic cloves that can be smelled, amongst us, the modern few, tasting the hands, the applause: where is the chef?

It all hangs. The year past. The new one starts. I want it all. All that, and more. A resolved man, am I? A rested man, will I ever be? Wine that has been scented, served, and oxygenated. Perfect. There are South American Asian faces. Everywhere. And their bodies, are short. The produce is here. Tempranillo grapes, dripping, lip bound. And dripping, inside, across organs, and bloodstream.

Peru has got me right this time. Soles. Solesitos. Calientame un poquito.

Bring the service. Bring the year. And place it, on the mat. I turn 30. And here are many olives already on this bread. I want a toothpick. To prick my eye. And see, for once, the face value in front. One glance per year. Just one. One per contraction. One per blink.

So. Now. We calm ourselves down. We turn a year more. And off we go. Now. What for the next eyar? A graduation from a stage in life. Deep change. Perhaps algo grabbing myself by the balls. Harshly, until breathe escapes. And it hurts. Into pieces.

There is heart.
There is body.
There is mind.
There is spirit.
There is intellect.
There is profession.
There is play.
There is no love.

This has to change. The omission and the void. The gaps. Full it. Furiously. At it. On it. Have got to retain the focus. And to sustain it. Body can start. The rest can follow.

Agua de Cuzco

Es permanente la presencia de la piedra.
Son lizos sus contornos.
Son permeadas de jugo de pisco, de agua de Cuzco.

Piedras que rien, nefastas, hermosas.
Risotadas burlonas por toda la estupidez que se ha acumulado sobre ellas.

Lo han dicho y repetido. Una y otra vez.
Esa no es su forma natural. Nunca lo fue.

Su vestir es gris y es plateado
Y reluce no a la teja que las cubre por encima sino al sol.

Todo apuntado directamente a sus sombras.
Toa luz tiene una sombra.

Gracia. Aqui, en donde me hicieron guerra.
Aqui, es donde encuentro paz.

Encuentro sol. Encuentro, encuentro.
Es el punto de arribo. No hay pereza.
Una montana alta, interminable. Altitud. En la selva.

Mandalas indigenas, de esas que me hicieron. Efusivas. Y conservadas. Escondidas.

Para siempre y hoy. Esta es la primera pagina. Que espero?

[Cuzco - Dic 2011]