Monday, May 16, 2011

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(Chapter XVIII) THE MAN IN THE BANK: NO FEAR. FAREWELL



Man
bank has begun to have a great company, because the other banks in the public park where he resides, a few months in this part have begun to fill with new tenants, mostly unemployed, students with no future, people who have lost their homes because they can not pay the mortgage and ultimately a great mass of humanity that now serves as the neighborhood of man bank, in a short time street has changed his loneliness by a great social life under a starry sky, is not no more that politicians and bankers to endeavor to make it yours.
Al
around the corner a massive procession of human beings, without crucifixes or religion, holding placards in support of real democracy and raising anti-corruption songs take over the streets of the place, sounding the end of the alley more than a police siren.
The lullaby of drums and humanity, along with the smell of blankets and sleeping bags, gives way to open. A Sheltering Sky who gives them a warm night and light, without harshness weather, where they can rest their bodies and lids evicted due invites you to dream of a better world.

bank man huddles with long red hair without thanking know very well who the whole human gift he has received while in which time and again asked if maybe everything will not be the very same Oculoris ...

Monday, May 9, 2011

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crept behind him and bent to kiss him, breathing hard and his eyes half open and slide your hands over your neck verified that the blood flowed in torrents, the farewell for ever over his wound. She tied the scarf around her throat, straightened her hair in front of the mirror at the entrance, painted lips and the best of smiles out for a walk.

Monday, May 2, 2011

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With little eyes staring defied all natural laws, continually turning the head of his parents send their daugh ra, which seemed to have lost direction of his thoughts drift swimming in wreck of his own conscience, which fed on lies, pretexts with which continually silenced and return all the way to their grievances ... that tiny girl was the cause of all their problems, why he had come to her? , asked again and again ... my enter a tiny dark hair was left wringing his hands, manipulating a new action carry out without the mother r eserve.

Monday, April 25, 2011

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The creaking of the steps, results in all possible ways, too thin or too slow for all those unknown faces. The clatter of feet on asphalt elusive answers a call and light up the narrow streets as many legs as fleeing from the chase, the wind begins strike and to dump gallons of rainwater from the jaws of that crowd .. . and wash their consciences, some pure, some dirty, some ... just splashed rain water ... and after the procession, the participants will, each to the same place for which they have come to dig one by one in their own crosses.

Monday, April 18, 2011

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STEPS (Chapter XVII) THE MAN IN THE BANK: Constellation.


Under the watchful eye of the poplars, man bank balance on the swing deserted by the absence of children, while the spring remains unstable in the park of the Route, as wayward girl who looks askance and resolves to get a jump barefoot while playing in the same pools in which it is immersed. And playing catch up in his memory stops the rain and into the sun in anger, as if jealous of him, as if afraid to lose with that man every evening when the day ends and night falls for their shoes, demolished by the darkness that blinds him, he fell on the same bench that receives and rock, like a protective mother eternal. And there half asleep with his head resting on the lap of the uterus, nailed his one eye on the stars through these dust particles are only visible when the light and the splendor reveals multiple of those stars are cautioned not even when looking only takes you somewhere you never traveled ... where ever it was, but they all look back at him ... with his incessant glare telling him all the times he has played and lost .. . the dawn is delayed, in silent peace, under the hollowness sky like great marble dome , without a bell, or a church, his heart is subjected only demolition of imaginary forms that differ in the night sky, uniting mentally the points formed by a group of stars which paint without canvas a brush or red hair, as bright as the constellation of self and staring up there, without hesitation, no morals, no taboos or prejudice, or society, or individuals ... a beautiful eye devotes a private gesture, the time when its misty tear, emotion is diluted to the earth as rain, bathing complete with tears circumpolar and there on the ground, dejected, defeated, no name, no letters or numbers, with the impatience of a young lover, the man is consoled bank confirmed that we are all stardust ...

The night was long, so long as the distance between the stars ... by the central walkway of the park, near the source of the orange, l a redhead who goes the other hand, increases the pace of their steps, so do not be late to work. Man bank's looks away, remembering the night of love they have spent together and with parted lips and watch while he recites a sonnet provided ...


"This is the root of root
the bud of the bud,

the sky of the sky of a tree called life which grows higher

of what the soul can hope or mind can hide
.
is the wonder keeping the stars apart
.
I carry your heart.
I carry in my heart. "



The morning rush of birds, right out of your sweet dream, where the light and the sun, bring him back to his own destiny, man ... bank closes his eyes in an effort to try and return to its previous state and the closed doors of his consciousness locked consoles himself wishing that one day all your dreams come true ...

............................................... .................................................. ..................................


Monday, April 11, 2011

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BEASTS. PRINCESS




In the middle of the arena, the gladiator blood pours its scarlet color, breaking in the dust his prison slave dies as a knife ... discover the path to freedom.



Monday, April 4, 2011

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He forgot to eat and yet his image in the mirror gave back a mass of excessive meat, is disgusted when contemplating the sad picture of their reflection and even if filled with water for hunger could not tame her huge body ... across the hall to her mother in tears provides unrestrained, going over his tiny skeletal, with sunken cheeks and his jaw so that fence purple and rod you
ea eyes that once had to splendor, and since long ago just look down as if to forget ... on the bedside table of skinny young fashion magazines, clippings teens like her who are fighting every day a battle with the flesh, lost in that war and expired in advance, with the submission of the lamb that comes to kill repealed, paying tribute to the beauty fading, greet each other in secret, will admire, rejoice, vomit quietly cheat ... because only they understand, in that jungle where they die for love of perfection and as a distorted prism is never attainable and right in the pit of the disease and is known greet in and named. .. princesses ...

Monday, March 28, 2011

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Hanging from the ruined bar of the same bar, the most drunk of all alcoholics, continued drinking to avoid recalled, while in the middle of the room and shot dead lying in a pool of warm blood, the most sane of all the crazy and the most risky of all sober, drawing a strange one unfinished sketch.

Monday, March 21, 2011

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The phone never stopped ringing, ringing after another, enduring the same monotonous tune as usual, that to which I was used and who knew ... was repeated over and again forcing it to contestar.Mientras colors ranging from blue and pink ... did not have to look, but his fate was already marked, tattooed at that pregnancy test that confirmed that in less than nine months would be mother ... recalled that today was his fifteenth birthday ... picked up the phone, launched the device next to the trash developer and stayed with her friends at the pub Friday, things were resolved, she was sure she thought with equal certainty with falling snow in spring.

Monday, March 14, 2011

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SPRING SNOW (Chapter XVI) THE MAN IN THE BANK: The night of fire. CAGE



bank
Man
ankles anchor somewhere on the wet ground, around him a great war of fire, fireworks, and noise is located at the epicenter of a city \u200b\u200bthat far from being in full war, fire sky colors and sounds. Terrified, shocked and amazed time, the man drops his bank back on the wet grass under a large green blanket that once was the old bed of the Turia River, now a large park that runs through the city. With rescostada head and staring at a spectacle of colored smoke bank man imagines ways that burst and fade in the air ... palm trees, flowers, animals, under a blanket of distant stars, the silence of a crowd close overheated with her warmth, hair of all colors and textures, different sizes and shapes of eyes, mouths, noses, skin tones are unimaginable that great human mantle which, without knowing how or when it is immersed, as one, leaving these forms visually caressing air. The firing of rockets bring back memories of his childhood and for a moment close your eyes and observe from a distance walking hand in hand with her mother. He also had past, as all that tangle of unfamiliar faces and bodies. Her hair lank and thin entangled between the fingers of his father, his mother's red curls on her face ... so close and so present as if it never was gone. A picture that reminds you now more than ever women far the other hand . And it is this emotional state to emerge from his drunkenness that leads him to grasp with alien hand extreme delicacy that is closer and then, with all the passion that is capable of coming toward him and takes her to his breast, kisses her escape while not a single inch of her delicate flesh, enjoying every thousandth second of the kidnapping trembling, while he opens his eyes and head is the owner of those legs ... a uniformed local police officer with scowling and chewing gum which the county sheriff, thrusts its feline look in yours.
Pursued by those hands, taking the final shot with the maximum acceleration of a Velociraptor bank's man blurs and disappears as all that artillery, under l a night of fire.

Monday, March 7, 2011

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The red in the background, the desktop clock ticking its relentless tick-tock ... step, voices, threats, emergencies that require more presence ... the smell of coffee, two seats, no access, no revenge, no reforms, no forms, time slips through the hallway between the different rooms, without conviction, or boycott, confident nothing. The situation is the same, nothing changes. Smoke, ancestry, sofas uninhabited ... the room that is not red, nor trembling is empty ... an envelope, a comfort, acknowledgments, the requirements, the matter may be resolved without further damage, the proposal turns on the air, drifting around the room to complete the details of a weary heart, trapped in his tiny chest, trying to escape after the proposal , tasking the mind from the doubts and the last sip of coffee momentarily escapes its cage
social tight.

Monday, February 28, 2011

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And so goes the world, embarking on a career fast, as fast as a madman who runs terrified refraining slightly between the corners and with tears in his eyes, shouting from the rooftops to meet with his head hanging on his own skull.

Monday, February 21, 2011

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He mutinied by the hair on the face ... dreams, now seemed almost real fade and fast just three decades passed before him, no lights and no shadows ... the road was paved,
a journey without return, a train that could not descend. Memories poured his light baggage dropped the ballast of emotions and new steps took off his shoes from the sun, breathed deep to fill life and finally decided to keep walking and keep doing Aque ment did best ago r.

Monday, February 14, 2011

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The cotton false whining fail to cause even the slightest whimper from her golden curls snails ... beyond the sobs of tar contaminated an angelic face without horns and poorly finished after a good deal, wins the love medicine sleepy, thirsty, hungry, in need of pins and needles in my heart. While an aura of intense, armed with bow and arrows, lambasts his wings, muffle their emotions and a scarlet red dress from the bottom of excessive mourning, playing with his darts rods to create a Sonatina rhythm on the bars of his cell one is knocking warning a metal oxide under the bandage covering his eyes empyreal ... through the gates that contain the winged slayer is accused by the other common criminals to be a recidivist sniper.

Monday, February 7, 2011

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And now that you're not, I miss your breath
acid aging, your mouth on the glass, your younger years and even your bark. And keep your collar perpetual, empty of you, on the shelf sad and dispirited, while you feed the barren land between the hollowness that takes you away from us and brings you closer to your constant companion lineage. Only rosemary will be our judge and our witness there where the lowland forest and gorse populate the dusty road that leads to you, while you rest forever the shelter of the pines, watching and watching you go, dumb, as if everything that would have to say, has already been said. And I'm staying here by lying about less and you remind me that the clock continues its unstoppable pulse that now you're gone, my friend tomorrow others will go ... seventeen years of love, are named soon ... Your presence unconditional allegations and I did not need, maybe you've always loved, but sometimes I forget remind . Today the penalty for your absence as cartridges broke me into pieces and the pain brings me between the eyes from crystalline and seeing as it's worth ... like you said goodbye could you rme, I shake in my memory those hands that you both lick.

(In memoriam)

Monday, January 31, 2011

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LAND (XV) THE MAN IN THE BANK: The perfect piece


Man bank, wakes up feeling a new man in the shelter of plenty ticket who sleep in the inside pocket of his jacket and genteel man of the convertible so unselfishly gave him ... He sits at the edge of the bank that holds it and staring at the sky of the park begins to think about that can reverse their recent fortunes. Look to the side and he watches a beautiful girl with golden hair and for a moment feel the irresistible temptation to buy it for ever, but his mind pass the glimpses of a vision scene tedious and frustrating with sofa and TV remote share where the beautiful hair becomes a head full of curlers, and unchanging gaze and almost devoid of smile uncontrollably loose a scream of terror to the passage of the exuberant blonde. Then look to the opposite side and discovers a middle-aged man, draining a cigarette outside a bar, with tears in their eyes and shaky holding, for the three degrees below zero that coalesce in the environment, the tool pain and pleasure, and for a few moments thinking about buying snuff many packages as you need to invite all those poor souls who hit a lurking time now smoke in the mouth from all corners and alleys of the city, but also did not Free convinced by this idea, as never before someone had given him nothing, his mentor, the man in the convertible would be an angel sent directly from the heavenly beds and the fate of his wealth had to be much more sublime, imposing, colossal and still looking around and waiting for a divine sign that directed in the right direction, is dropped into the back of the bench as his hands glide across a small brochure mobile advertising at bargain prices, under the slogan: "ladies" only on facebook. So swift and fast bank man goes to the computer shop on the corner with the pile of tickets in hand to persuade the clerk to serve him as soon as possible one of those tools to seduce ladies and is dependent on global economic crisis national without hesitation, he sold the most expensive, fast and ruthless virtual specimen, also called alienware m17x and under the power of your wonderful art technology gives the bank man a snapshot and dynamic overclocking to him seems that pure excitement and exaltation of the senses, let your fingers slip the perfect piece, sealing his love for such a delicate jewel and using the wifi is connected to the precious commodity facebook, as a soul that goes into eternal paradise , with infinite pleasure to devour the forbidden fruit of all the "ladies" that there are waiting ... and positioning in the search bar, is pleased to see such great results do not wait and a huge arsenal of the most colorful ladies falling at his feet rendered ... "Ladies who sit on the subway and sigh to dramatize their fatigue" , "Ladies who go by the middle of the sidewalk and do not let pass easily" , "Ladies that feed the ALOM p if any is the Holy Spirit ", " Ladies who stealthily move to hear the sins of the confessional ". And so it goes for ladies provided with an on-line exponential interest to which he hastens to add as friends and whatever comes up ... and check with particular satisfaction as in just one morning, looking for here and there far exceeded the hundred friends there, people who know nothing, opened the doors of their lives and welcome him with open arms wide albeit never to never talk between these lives unknown and set out to find the redhead that goes hand in hand with another feeling absolutely certain that she will there somewhere in the web of faces, waiting for their friendship and then add the path to Oculoris will be much easier, more simple with the pedigree of a very select clientele found in the abyss virtual, but he is about resolving the investigation that would lead to the redhead, the alienware , comes alive on the screen and displays a quoted phrase; "no internet connection" , to which the bank man burning with anger begins to walk exalted one to the other side of the park with a laptop in his arms looking for that connection that allows you to reach your goal love and uncertain movement of his steps, the great, magnificent and alienware m17x titanic warns again and again through a text on your screen saying: low battery suffer just before the blackout and to cease trading. So the bank man clings to the machine inconsolable crying death infernal chance and not think twice throws the alienware most innovative market and now downloaded to the nearest trash can, thinking how little during these devices as extremely expensive and in those thoughts and while walking, her figure disappears into the back of the park ...

Monday, January 24, 2011

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LETTERS READING


And now that you're not, at least not for naming you, the road disappears under letters extinct, those that were written in ink invisible, legible only under two pairs of eyes staring at the ends of words, the insolent, the strong, the hurtful, which never had a voice, but that everything said in the absence of vowels and consonants, left to sound the prayers, knowing that everything that he had a plan worked out one iota, nor an indicator of what was necessary to express, perhaps for fear, perhaps out of caution, those who join and syllables refuse, damaged more than all the imagined literary hand, like a great story for completion in the absence of perfect ending, right knot, the outcome that will shed light on the facts ... and yet, with all that talkative floating in the ceremony of memories, I feel there is much to say, but l exes are you still being so close ... l Etrasa the written slowly, to avoid having to express more than a unison nothing.

Monday, January 17, 2011

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dusk arrived, the trail becomes dark and gives the passer serene journey of our own dreams. There where the leaves turn sharp eyes watching us ice cream, as taken from our own inner ghosts, lurking branches simulating arms, move in rhythm by a melodic wind pushing us and we removed. Where the grasshoppers seem unusual beings and two foreign components crammed into our minds as an infectious fungus: the desire to cross the road quickly and the desire to live like a pack of wolves, roaring through the trees fleeing the human race and raising the dust of the road between our legs, the rapid pace with the galloping fur rhythmically, taking refuge under the weather at the top of the mountain above him head up our splendid steppe and sound from depths of our human throat howl more we are able to sing.

Monday, January 10, 2011

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need not say anything, silence is much more beautiful in its simplicity and allows read everything in your eyes, penetrate work see those eyes is less complicated and there is no room left something inside. The outdoor scenery is changing to overflow of differences, ways to get stop marked the moment with the absolute certainty of reading the firmest conviction until the end of time.