butterfly in reverse (to ezequiel)

my heart fills with joy every time I can hear the tone, the pitch of your voice, is the register of your sound that reminds me of what I am, of what I want from and for my life. My life, my path, my renewed steps, the ones you helped me create. Creation, of love, of hope, of vision, of nature. Naturally, I love. I care. Care for you. You, are the one I love. Love, is what I have reinvented against all predictions. Predictions, that were nothing but sadness, nothing but to accept the consequences of my faults, nothing but to keep on cleaning up the strings fastening my hands. Hands, with which I have covered my eyes for an eternal moment. Moments, is what I want to have since I found you remembering me. Me, as I used to be. Being, the same child you cared, the same child you wanted peacefully and innocently. Innocence brings to my memory the notes of faded classes, where everything had the appearance of being genuine, even my own self, portraying your face. Face the night, I said to myself, face live, face moments of anguish, look at yourself with no respect, and find the bravery to feel, to bear, to detect, to suffer, to sense, to perceive. Perceive, my beautiful little boy, Ezequiel, -in the preamble of words: Ejeskiel, the one with the strength of G’d- my request for your love, I plea for your presence. Presence, you being there, here and in every corner of my wishes makes me protest against conditions, makes me cry out my demands sadly enough as to regain intensity to fight, to struggle easily and honestly. Honestly is the way I think of you, sincerely is the shape in which I love you. You, as a butterfly in reverse, in a continual, never-ending time, never leaving, always staying, never changing, wishing to love until every fear of loss gets lost.

violet

Let her be. Let her be weak if she wants to. Let her burn books if she wishes to. Let her love without permission if she pleases to. Give her the courage to live, no the burden to carry. Not the rules to analyze, not the strategy to perform, not the calculation of love. Let her criticize what we are not supposed to. Let her be violet, no black or white. Let her be shapeless. Let her carry her own weight. Let her go. But people made her believe she was special; they made her believe she could do anything she wanted to, and at the same time they mess with her head painting stains with dirty broken glasses, and no respect.

the shortest short story ever

For sale. Baby shoes. Never used.

Ernest Hemingway.-

delayed generation

Between 25 and 30 and still you didn’t get your degree? Between 25 and 30 and you are still single? Welcome!!…mind you, you are member of my generation, which I could call it in many ways…such as…the Lost Generation, but it was already used…the X Generation…too kitschy.
I think we are part of a quite characteristic generation. First, we are, lets say, the “children of democracy”-in the case that democracy is something that really exists- we are the children of fathers and mothers who really had to fight for what the wanted; they grew up seeing and suffering a dictatorship, something they did not choose, something that was imposed. They fought against that. That, and other factors, made them grow with ideals, with real ideals, they wanted to change things. We, the children, we were born and grew up in a place where everything was already made. We grew up with the “you have to prepare yourself for the future”, and suddenly the future was here. I personally grew up with most of my mom’s ideals, in the sense that, I’ve always believed that everything was possible, that a better world is possible, I grew up believing in justice, love, and honesty. You would say “ok. Your mom sounds like a retired hippie” and yes, she is in a way. My friends’ parents if not retired hippies, they belong to a generation which believed in certain things and passed them to their children, that means, to us. The problem arrives when those ideals clash with our present situation, a world that is far away from those things our fathers wanted to achieve, a world which, in many cases is in decay, you like it or not. The delayed part comes when we compare ourselves with our parents. At their 25 or 30 years old, they had a degree or were already married, or were already divorced. We are not. Most of the people of my own age are in that situation…we joke about it, we make fun of it, in order to make that little frustration a little bit lighter; but in our young hearts, we know that we had have troubles doing things “on-time”. And although we still want to get our degrees, we still want to marry and have children; we feel that we are or that we were delayed. Despite all this, we still have the strenght to keep on going.

bills

In spite and despite all, love has passed unnoticed, the heart torn in my stomach, up side down. It could have been just the inhabitable maturity to perform the heart’s songs. Ending up by destroying my faces with incalculable thoughts of elaborated phrases, they were only ornamented phrases created for the art of conquer. And I wanted, little by little to conquer. But it was useless, because you were calculating my kisses.

four little horses

This is a city of whores
Of expensive ones
Of cheap ones,
Of the ones with no soul,
And of the loved ones.

This is a city of crows
Of white crows
Of black crows
Of the lonely ones
And of the assassin ones.

This is my soul of many dreams
With them I live
For them I die
Soul of many loves,
Soul of many cries.

This is a life of cold and warm
Cold of anguish in winter
Warm of deceits in summer

little presentation cards

And if i wanted
as a way of presenting myself
I would tell you my name
(that I do not know how to spell it)
I would show my fear
(that I do not know how to spell it) as a way of presenting myself
I would ask something dull
And another one with no sense, and then other and other and other one.

Maybe in a meeting
I would show my soul, uncovered
I would scare you with words you have never heard

I would tell you about my mother, my father
And of how I just like the day to die

I would tell you about my mother, my father
Of how we were two, or three
And that now, I’m not even one.

Through time,
You would stop respecting me
For knowing me that much

Little presentation cards
Of how we were two, or three
And that now, I’m not even one.

anger

my head is beaming towards every kind of thought possible, I’m about to topple if not about to have a breakdown. I hate to be tested, I hate to sit for exams, it seems to be the only thing I have been doing for ages. Sitting for exams seems to be the only way that people will stop pressuring you. but I’m fuc..ing tired of this. The future, your future is hunged from the act of showing others how much you know about something. this is not a rigorously 30 minutes entry. today I don’t care, because I’m fed up with words and plans. baby steps suck. who actually live and give baby steps?

commander in chief

No one can deny that all this is part of the same. Politically will be the same party, same way of strategy, same government but different representative. Will she, Cristina, win the elections? There a little doubt about it. Will the national situation change because will be Cristina THE Commander In Chief? We’ll see…
The American TV drama “Commander In Chief” shows the hypothetic case of a first female president of the United States, who, strong in personality, manages to be a wife, a mother, and the President of the United States of America. The TV drama is controversial in many aspects, especially when, as a woman and President, the character is emotionally stronger than her counterparts and she is even tougher than her husband. In “Commander In Chief” Genna Davis can virtually cope with her “job”. How is Bachelet, the real female president doing in Chile? Apparently ok. But a female president is not parameter for a country’s situation. That would be a racist opinion.
Anyway, seems to me that we are going to have a female president in Argentina. At least, she has presence and charisma, and, no one can refute the fact that it was Cristina the one who was behind and beneath Nestor Kirchner’s every step since the beginning. Being quite intelligent, in the last months she has invested her time in building international relationships. If I think of the possibility of her being President of Argentina…just think about it. The most chauvinist country in the world governed or t least represented by a woman. Let’s hope she can be smart enough to run the country on her heels. Ladies and gentleman, rouge and skirts for everyone.

baby girls and mademoiselles I

The girl of the despairing eyes
Stares at the void
And beholds the abyss with no amazement.
The girl of the despairing eyes
Does not state dates or times to the sunset.
The girl of the mournful eyes,
Knows what love is and so she cries.
The girl,
With boiled lips as blood
Saw the wind
Running away from her hands
But her despairing eyes couldn’t follow it.

baby girls and mademoiselles II

( …To me a kiss was the physical love of two solitudes, of two lives bond with anguish. The crucial support of the unbroken charm. A white spot during August. Though it felt as the unbearable heat of disbelief…)

baby girls and mademoiselles III

The girl who is cuddled
Is already speaking in another language.
And within her words, she pictures a bridge
Which she didn’t have
Or feared
Or ended.
The Mademoiselle who is embraced
Fades into butterflies
Lullabies
Dragonflies
While the world fades conveniently.
Dreaming with days that will not come
With leaves which will not fall.
With the white and the blue,
With the innocent anguish that will not get lost.

The girl of the sad eyes, when cuddles
Does not argue if the day ends
Or if the night crumbles.
The girl who is cuddled
Mourns when the rite dies.