No One Knows

        National Poetry Writing Month- write a poem per day during the month of April.

No One Knows
 
 
As we travel
we ignore the path.
As we move forward
we discard the past.
As we come closer
we become undetached.
 
From this moment,
apart from each other;
we have grown up.
From a distance,
I am the same as you,
you are the same as me.
Yet, we will never be
equals, partners, lovers nor friends.
 
 
Can anybody hear you?
Can anybody reach you now?
Can anybody kill you?
 
Listen to the guitars;
the electronic melody
that penetrates your mind
will ultimately instigate
and hypnotize you in the end.
 
 
There is a battle inside of you.
And you can't believe is real?
And you can't believe is happening?
And you cant believe is true?
 
You think you're smart.
But you're not,
it's plain to see
you are a follower and not a leader.
 
You are trapped in this world
alone and jaded.
You are in solitude
bitching and moaning.
 
 
Can anybody hear you?
Can anybody reach you now?
Can anybody kill you?

 

 

Demente

Another poem, in Spanish, collaborating with national poetry writing month.

Demente

 ¡Demencia, demencia, demencia colectiva!

Estas son las cosas que se me vienen en la mente y le dije:

"Apenas solo somos un constructo social,
nuestros roles fueron escogidos antes de nuestro nacimiento
por el mismo sistema que ahora nos nutre."

Pero nadie me entiende...

Ella leyó el texto, lo examinó y esta fue su conclusión:

"La persona quien diga que no está de acuerdo con este pensar,
es porque no quiere aceptar
que es un monigote más..."

¡Demencia, demencia, demencia colectiva!

Todos quieren ser libres

pero nadie quiere independizarse del sistema,
ya nadie quiere lograr
una emancipación intelectual.

 ¿Cómo podemos lograr nuestra revolución humana,

si apenas podemos aceptar

que solo somos un constructo social

y nada más?

 ¿Dónde está tu libertad?

 ¡Tú no eres libre!

Tu estas atado al sistema,
tú sigues sus reglas,
te adaptas,
asimilas
y te acomodas.

  ¡Demencia, demencia, demencia colectiva!

 Vive tus mentiras,

 Cómelas como miel.

Trágalas y cágalas;

 mientras el sistema te escupe la cara

 !Marginal!

 ¡Siempre serás parte de la demencia, demencia, demencia colectiva!

 
 

Intel

One poem per day in collaboration with national writing poetry month.

Intel

Did you realize no one could see inside your views?
Did you realize just when the sun belonged to you?
---------------------------------------------------
I don’t want to hurt you…
but the reasons are plenty here.
'Cause we all know
that you’ve been guilty;
and I‘m starting to get scared of me.
-----------------------------------
We gotta try a little harder.
We gotta try a little stronger.
We gotta try a little deeper.
----------------------------------
Let this sink in.
It could be sweet,
like a long forgotten dream.
-----------------------------------------------------
It's time you know that
we don’t need them.
'cause I don’t wanna lose;
what we had last time
before you were leaving.
-----------------------------------------------
We don’t get something for nothing.
When will you try a little harder?
We could be sweeter than yesterday.

 

The Dame

Sunday poetry, still doing the challenge for national poetry writing month: one poem per day for the whole month of April.
 
The Dame
 
She could be sweet
like a lucid dream.
I don't know much about her.


"Please can you stay
for a while to share my grief?"
She pleaded to me.


It was such a lonely day,
and she always felt lonely.
I never walked away from her.


Because I have always been a wandering star,
Blackened and darkened for ever. 
Those who have seen beneath my eyes
have known me forever.

In this town of suffering
I am her only comfort.
I am her only wandering star
preserved in darkness forever.

 

Stasis

Saturday night and before I head out, I leave another poem, commemorating National Poetry Writing Month. I have become fond of this exercise, it has proven to be very motivating; I even added pictorial imagery.

Stasis

The transhumanizer in him comes out to become one.
No one can find the fantasies
hidden in your subconscious
Does anybody loves him?
Not like he was loved before.
 
Secret lies, curdled up
in fantasies of screams.
Endless vows.
Take a ride,
take a bite at me
until you're loved.
 
Cause all you'll have left are the memories from yesterday.

 

El Dinero

 A poem per day during the whole month of April, collaborating with National Poetry Writing Month. This poem is in Spanish.
 

El Dinero

 

¿Quién es tu Dios?

 Yo, el Dinero.

 ¿Quién te da stuff?

Yo, el Dinero.

¡Arrodíllate ante mí! Si me tienes.

 Si te hace falta mi amor, eres mísero, infeliz y hediondo.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$

 Compraré tu felicidad, tu paz.

Te daré eternidad.

¡Soy tu Dios; Yo, el Dinero!

Cómeme,

Digiéreme;

Sin mí no eres nada.

Tienes tus manos atadas, a mí, tu Dios; el Dinero.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$

Me necesitas para comprar tus porquerías,

Me necesitas para que tu familia sobreviva,

Me necesitas para ser feliz en tus días,

Me necesitas, Soy tu Dios; el Dinero.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$

¡Niégame!

Pretende que no me necesitas.

¡Debáteme!

Engáñate con tus mentiras.

Dices: soy maldad.

Pero al final en el lecho de tu muerte,

Yo, tu Dios;

el Dinero,

Decidiré si te rinden homenaje póstumo en tu velorio entierro.

Soy Yo, tu Dios, el Dinero quien tanto desprecias en tu aliento.

Veré que te descompongas como un animal

En la cuneta de una calle cualquiera.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$

 

Yo tu Dios; el Dinero.

Compro tu nacimiento,

Compro tu desarrollo,

Compro tu crecimiento,

Compro tu vida

Y compro tu muerte.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$
$$$

Arrodíllate ante mí,

Paga el diezmo,

Llena la canasta,

Dame el 10% de tu sueldo,

Confiésate.

¿Quién es tu DIOS?

 ¡Yo, el DINERO!

 

Savages

Another poem for today. It's national poetry month, try to write one poem per day for the whole month of April.


         Savages

Primitive instincts,

intrinsic within him.

Ferocious thoughts,

violent and uncontrolled.

∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩

Barbarian and wild man,

he rises and lacerates;

tearing to pieces

his prey and his victim.

∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩

Once more,

Who do you think you’re running from?

Once more,

Did you think you could escape him at all?

Once more,

Run away, far away, as fast as you can!

Once more,

He will become your slaughterer and your savior.

∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩

Thread on lightly,

be silent and be still

my child.

His lunar eclipse is rising,

keep on running away

my child.

Thread on steady paced.

Don’t venture

my child,

stay on the path.

Thread on, full throttle on.

Alas! Be quiet, be still;

my child,

pay attention to his needs.

∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩∩

Winter, is gone.

Springtime, will awaken

the darkness within him.

In the heat of the night,

Under the bloody moonlight,

he shall find you again

and forever make you his prey.

 

Quiero con Querer

  This time the poem is in Spanish, still writing one poem per day, for national poetry month.

Quiero con querer

Quiero perderme,

en tu ala blanca y fresca de mañana.

Activar ese suicidio en tu mirada.

Entender esos secretos en tu alma.

 

Quiero perderme,

en la angustia de tu enojo y de tu odio.

En el centro de lo malo y lo poroso.

Adentrarme en tu escombro asqueroso.

 

Quiero sentirte,

desde el fondo de lo blanco de tu nieve,

desde el frio que te corta bien rebelde;

hasta entrar en la montaña que te pierde.

Quiero tenerte,

entre mis labios,

gota a gota,

sorbo a sorbo;

 y perder nuestro pudor

sin redentores.

Y saber que mil problemas,

son tus dotes

hasta vernos en miseria totalmente.

 

 Quiero tenerte,

Perseguirte, pretenderte, excelente.

Ver como se hace trizas tu demencia.

Romper todo esquema que te hace seria.

 

Quiero tenerte,

sonreírte desde adentro y desde lejos.

Desde afuera ver cómo eres para otros.

Percibir todo lo que das por sentado.

Penetrarte una vez más del otro lado.

 

Quiero sentirte,

beso a beso,

lengua a lengua,

bien mojadas.

Saborearme esos labios que me llaman,

aunque todo sea engaño y en la nada.

 

Quiero perderme,

en la sutileza de tu voz y tu mirada,

que se posa en mi regazo descansada.

Que me invita a seguir

y me hace sentir,

muerta en vida otra vez sin fin;

un final adecuado para esta payasa

quien ha vuelto a tu nido, desgraciada.

Rogándote hasta el fin.

 

Quiero perderme,

ser tuya, infinitamente.

Que seas mía siempre, por siempre.

Devorarme entre tus piernas,

suculenta y lentamente cantarte cada pedazo de mi ser.

 

Quiero tenerte,

subir contigo,

bajar un rato,

siempre constante,

siempre en relatos.

De fantasías vivo y tiemblo en los inviernos.

Esperando a que regreses a mi

y sabiendo que nunca será así.

No he aprendido…

Mist and Shadows

Another poem for a day...during the month of April I will try and publish one poem per day.

Mist and Shadows     


In the edge of night,

all shall fail

when trying to come back,

when trying to crawl back.

∞

There are many paths to tread:

mist and shadow,

in the edge of night

and all shall fade one more time.

∞

Sing a song

of love and death

of devotion and corruption

for this lonesome entity.

∞

Let your truths be heard once more,

before you are gone,

before I am left forever:

come undone, uncovered and alone.

∞

Through mist and shadows

we dream lucid dreams,

we touch the silence we seek;

deep within, we live a dream inside a dream.

∞

Awaken, cutting the ties that bind us.

An opening of the eyes, for the blind spots inside you.

A riddle inside an enigma;

mist and shadow, in the edge of the night and all shall fade away.
















 

Time After Time

  This is the second poem for the month of April is supposed to be one poem per day.

Again this was inspired by my muse.

Time after time


Dreams and nightmares turn into nightscapes.

Into the void and into the darkness we go.

Once again we find ourselves in a crossroad.

Shall we continue together,

or part ways here?

**********************
**********************

How are we to understand each other?

This is the moment,

the dreadful instance...

This language betrays us,

and no one cares for us.

*******************
*******************

Outsiders we are,

Once more we are clear,

One last time thicker than blood.

Until time passes by,

until we are anew again.

********************
******

At last, the moment has come

we seize the night

we seize the day

Carpe diem, Carpe noctem.

Carpe ominous,

We do what others neglect.











 

Ode to Him

This is the first post for the month of April. Is one poem per day for the month of April, I don't know if I can make it, so I shall try.

This one was inspired by my muse. Once he reads this, he will know.


 Ode to Him


What an enchanted creature he is!
Flawed and broken, yearning for nothing.
He is careless and for that I adore him.


His voice penetrates every fiber of my being.
With every note and every tone he sets the mood of our destruction.


Destroyer of dreams...
ruiner of realities;
all within him gracefully displayed.

His words sharp and shining.
With every breath he is everlasting.

Thousands of past lives unites us,
thousands of miles separates us from the present;
Yet, it is him whom I long for, no other.

What a magnificent specimen he is.
Damaged, intertwined in madness.
Dangerous and inviting.

His thoughts pressing upon my breast
his revelations delivered with such precision,
he is focused and for that he's wholesome.

A lone wolf warrior,
encompassed in silence.
I find myself longing to escape inside of him,
I long to seek his true nature and revel in it.

Lo and behold!
Admire what he's become!
For what he is you shall never be.

Dreams of nightmares of the near end of days
overshadow his fair existence.
And so he lays awake,
overthinking,
always keeping secrets.

And I lay beside him on our deathbed,
through the fire,
through the fountain of life,
after it is all done,
there will only be the two of us.

In his hour of darkness I come.
In my hour of darkness he comes undone
just for me,
because he understands my dark needs;
and I desire his darkly dreamy urges pressed upon me.

And though he is tainted
by the carelessness,
this will only bring me closer to him.

Oh, how I long to feel his daggered words penetrate my brain once more!
How intrinsic he is,
and I bask in his whole existence,
because I want to and I can.

I shall devour him,
I shall let him devour me
while we whisper to the wind
we are never ending and everlasting.

Inside, I trust his madness
outside I cast out his enemies, 
Are we the same, one encompassed within each other?



 

           

  Social Psychology
To be or not to be: Sex change in America
 
       Being born in your own skin shouldn't be a shame. Having thoughts of self hatred for your own body is not normal. Hating your sex and wanting to change sex is not something to be taken lightly.

    From a psychological point of view, there have been cases where people feel psychologically sick with their bodies. They hate being born the way they are: boy or girl and they decide to change sexes. Yet, changing sex is much more than just being castrated. It means to change not only physically but emotionally and psychologically. You need to change your whole personality. So, what if a boy feels like a girl in his mind, and a girl feels like a boy? What if they are tortured by this thought for the rest of their lives: "I'm trapped in the wrong body". That's exactly what people who have done their sex change operation feel like. In many psychological reports we have seen the same sentiments: "I'm trapped in the wrong body, I'm not supposed to be born like this, I don't want to have this sex anymore, because it's just not me".  Do we judge them? Do we condemn them? Or do we just try to understand them?

    Let's try to understand this issue for once. When one sets out to live free and be happy, that involves doing whatever one wants, right? Some people perceive this erroneously, they believe that their decisions and their actions won't affect the whole of society or change the course  history. They say to themselves: "as long as I'm happy I don't care what others think, say or do".  That is the new way to live life right now, and that is ok sometimes. But to go ahead and learn how to be a man or a woman, is that preposterous? Monique Wittig wrote about not being born a woman, but becoming one, thought she never talked about women changing sex. I admire her, and for a long time I thought about that mantra: One is not born a woman, but becomes one. I would write endless essays of how one would become a woman: evolution, feminism, radicalism, liberation, awareness, open mindedness and freedom. Does this values apply to a woman changing sex or a man wanting to be a woman? Should I feel offended or honored that a man would like to be a woman?

  From a feminist personal point of view
    First of all: being a woman is not easy. We are perceived by sexual objects, we are objectified all the time. We are discriminated against by everyone. It doesn't matter that is 2014, we are still a struggling class. Every 5 minutes a little girl, a woman, is raped, sold as a sex slave, exploited, prostituted, mutilated, humiliated, abused, insulted, portrayed as a media whore, drugged, date raped, ridiculed, cheated on, taken for granted, beaten up, abused verbally, psychologically and mentally, and ultimately killed. We have a unique reproductive system, we give life and we feel the repercussions of being a real woman every month, let alone having to go through menopause, endometriosis, breast cancer, infertility and other feminine diseases.

    One can say that it is appalling to allow men to be like us. But they are not us. They will never be a real woman. Their exterior, physical appearance may be altered to look like one, but deep down inside of their anatomy lies their male reproductive system, always present, always reminding them that they will never be a real woman. Men: you can use as many hormones as you want, you can buy breast implants, you can have facial surgery, you can change your hair, do your nails, do your make up, learn how to walk, talk and act like a woman. Basically you're playing a role: the role of your life. But who are you fooling? Not me, just yourself, because deep down inside you hate women, you don't glorify us, you don't respect us, you don't understand what is like to be a woman. You just want to be like us, but you don't want to be wholesome like us, you just want to be the fantasy showgirl, the one that you're already used to see in media tabloids, that's who you want to be. Ultimately, you end up choosing different female role models in order to imitate them, in order to become a copy of a copy of a copy. But women are just more than that. Give us the respect we deserve, be happy the way you were born as a man, love your dick, don't mutilate it! You as a man decide to be a woman, just to be with other men, or women, without really facing the consequences of being a real women. You don't have to get an abortion whenever someone rapes you at gun point, you don't have to give birth (the miracle of life) because you can't, you don't have to experience every month menstrual cramps, endometriosis, infertility, no; you just have to stride into an operating room as a man and come out as a woman. Just by doing that, you think you are a complete woman, you think that a woman is just tits and pussy, well we are much more than that!

   So, what about women who want to be men? From a feminist point of view, it is just degrading wanting to be the same sex as your oppressor. Why would a woman decide to go through a series of challenging medical tribulations just to be a man? Their perfect vaginas mutilated, their wholesome breasts, cut off and mutilated, their psyche fractured, and all for what? To be a man? Inside you will always be a woman, you will always have a unique reproductive system that entails you to give life or simply take it. Do you hate yourself so much that you have to mutilate your body to be happy? Call it whatever you want, but it is simply not natural for a person to be so hateful of oneself. Some people would say: "I used to hate my body, I would sometimes look at other men and think: if I'd ever had a sex change, I'd want to be that guy." But things are not that simple. You are stuck with your body until the day you die. So why not celebrate it, cherish it and protect it from harmful decisions. Yes, being happy is important, but at what cost?

     I've met men, who are bisexual and are doing the sex change thing. I genuinely feel insulted by both parties. It is easy to change sexes when you are completely unaware of how to make yourself happy. A psychological research (Pfäfflin, Friedemann & Astrid Junge, 1991) has shown that from a sample of a 100 people who had decided to change sex, only a 10% of those people are somewhat happy, the other 90% are still experiencing depression, regrets and overall self destructive feelings. Think about that decision, it is not to be taken lightly. Yes I have posed as a man in pictures, yes I sometimes assume the stronger role in a lesbian relationship, but not all the time, it depends on the mood, so that doesn't mean I'm going to run and have a sex change. You have to realize it before you make that decision. Realize that you are in first place a happy individual, because the operation wont make you genuinely happy. Only you will, mentally, psychologically and emotionally.  
 
From a Sociological point of view:
 
     Using the Social Comparison Theory (Festinger, 1954),  people who are trying to change sexes have an intrinsic drive to gain accurate self-evaluations by evaluating their own opinions and abilities, by comparing themselves to others and ultimately achieving their sex change operation, in order to reduce the level of uncertainty and anxiety that they feel in their own skin. People who have changed their sex have done so by first comparing themselves to the sex that they are trying to emulate, and later trying to learn how to define themselves with the sex that they have chosen (man or woman). Some participants (Pfäfflin, Friedemann & Astrid Junge, 1991) have reported that before deciding to do the sex change operation, they would feel that they were born in the wrong body, ultimately, revealing that their effeminate or masculine behavior was modeled after a role model early in their developmental years.

   If you learn how to behave like a woman or a man at an early age, you will be more inclined to follow a specific gender. Since we are gender indoctrinated before we are born, at first glance it may seem unnatural to have a sex change operation.   


References:

1. Festinger, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human relations, 7(2), 117-140
2. Pfäfflin, Friedemann & Astrid Junge -Sex Reassignment. Thirty Years of International Follow-up Studies After Sex Reassignment Surgery: A Comprehensive Review, 1961–1991 (translated from German into American English by Roberta B. Jacobson and Alf B. Meier)

 Social Psychology and Sex Change in America