De los prejuicios y otros demonios

No se vale no saber olvidar,
dejarse llevar por los prejuicios y condenar toda una historia
a los turbios recuerdos que almacena tu sesgada memoria.

No se valen las predisposiciones,
tampoco el usarlas como argumentos para sacar a otros de tu vida.

Sabemos que hacerlo de ese modo es más fácil, pero la facilidad no es válida como una excusa...

Sabemos que requiere esfuerzo, para la mayoría de nosotros, ser conscientes de los cambios y de las sutilezas de cada momento y ocasión; pero no por esto se va a valer el sacrificio de todo aquello que, un día, tanto te costó cultivar.

Parágrafo:
Saber olvidar no es cosa fácil, es casi como perdonar: todo un arte. Olvidar no es sacar las cosas de tu memoria... no es bloquear recuerdos.. se trata más bien de soltar, de dejar ir, de saber que todo cambia y que el pasado, no es más que eso.

To learn to say goodbye, is growing up

"Who doesn't have memory, one of paper will be made"  

Gabriel Garcia Marquez in "Love in the Time of Cholera"  

  

Who knows how long it takes to forgive a memory?  
Who knows how long takes that memory to possess you?  

Today I write, for the moment that happened, I do because that´s past time.  I don`t usually write about the present moment, I prefer to live it. I always have preferred write about past time, maybe because I love to hear histories.

Today I write, because is the best thing that I can do with your memory.

And, I write (I´m honest) because I suck saying good bye.

I should stop to smoke you, to drinking you, to thinking of you; that`s possible,
I just need time, abstinence and loneliness.

But, Is ok if I want you one more week?
Is not a lot of time, I think is enough. Is enough time to take all my feelings about you and then sent that bag to you, you can do what you want: keep it, ignore it, burn it, sing it...
I need one week to be the ocean and hear your strong voice, one more time.

I know, I´m a little crazy... And that´s not a secret for you.

Later, I just going to need time to forget, the forgetfulness is an art and I´m not a talent person.
I´m just starting to learn to say bye... Is time to grow up.

Now, if you let me, I´m going to take your eyes and smile to make a picture in my mind, just one more week.

PS: I´m thinking about something; saying good bye is a gray sentence, to accept is better.

Requiem for a Remembrance

I

This city has changed,
streets, are not the same as before.

"Calle del Cañon" - Antonio Muñoz Vera

Maybe, what is not the same is me,
the city remains motionless in Its routine:

The carriages are still running around the streets,
each morning, crowding the streets with salesman selling fresh fish and fruits.

I no longer see It the same

Not after you

The waves are still engulfing the beach sand
The sun, just as inclement
The breeze, just as refreshing

I no longer feel It the same

Not after you


II

Fill me with memories of a night, a city, deep eyes ...

Now, it is day, I left the city and the eyes have flown,
deep yes, like ocean.

I should burn those looks and scatter the ashes in the streets,
so I would get rid the memory.

Then you would be in the lungs of the bitches in the Portal,
disturbing the eyes of the guards of the luxurious hotels
and soiling the expensive suits of elitists people who flood the streets of the Cartagena' unreal.

With that, I would stop talking about the past
and instead,
begin to feel you in every corner.
In people who are here.

III

I don´t wanna to be the writer of the memoirs of many adventures;
I Don´t even pretend to be who sees, again and again,
how it hurts to say goodbye to deep eyes.

I won´t be the one who comforts sad eyes when the words are converted to kilometers,
kilometers in kindness, and courtesy in routine;
and everyone knows that when things become soiled with custom,
relevance is lost.

IV

I write because it's my best and only way to turn the words, the looks,
and the silence in ashes and scatter them through the streets, avenues, squares and bars.

V

After many steps, and so many words spoken;
After burning, with lyrics, the cause of my misfortunes.

After all, I only ask three unrelated questions:

What moves the wheel of your life?
Where are your sighs?
How does the city look without you?

Recommended song: Strange Things Will Happen by Radio Dept

"Cartagena" - Enrique Grau

Poesía Errante...

Me apasiona hacerte el amor, por que siento hacerle el amor a tus sueños.
Me encanta acariciarte, porque me veo acariciando tus ideales.

Muero y renazco cuando me besas, porque tus besos me saben a presencia.
Me brilla el rostro al tomarte la mano, porque siento tomar la mano del universo.

Me contenta hacerte el amor, porque me siento hacerle el amor a tu sonrisa.

Cuando acaricio tu espalda, siento tocar tu, bien formado, carácter.
Cuando me acaricias la espalda, siento que me acaricia el cielo.

Pero que bien se siente hacerte el amor! porque se siente como hacerle el amor a tus palabras;
palabras que son indubitables y claras.

Es una exquicites hacerle el amor a tus miradas, son tan profundas.
Es todo un deleite hacerle el amor a tu alma, es tan sabia.

"Cuatro Formas de Hacer el Amor" - Pedro Fabio Veras

Dedicada al único ser con quien encuentro la verdadera felicidad