Do you believe?

She was not sure about it, but certainly there was something abnormal going on. She was already desperate. Hide and seek was definitely not her favorite game, but her little brother Frank insisted. So there she was, alone, paralyzed, listening to the noises coming from the storage room. She was not a little kid anymore; she had overcome her obsession with eating flowers; she was responsible for her brother; so convinced that she was big enough, she decided to get closer and open that door. She took three steps in that direction, when she decoded part of the noises, a voice! –“Let me go out!”- The voice said. Frightened, she turned back. It was a grown up voice, it could not be Frank! So who was it?
A strange feeling that she could not breathe invaded her. She knew somehow that whoever or whatever was inside of the room could hear her, see her, even through the walls and the darkness. She was not alone. Suddenly, she felt something pulling her to the door, forcing her to open it. She did not want to find out what was it anymore. She wanted to scream, to ask for help, but the more she tried the less she could emit any sound. It was now or never! She opened the door slowly, as the voice increased its rate.
For the only time in her life she felt afraid of death, she was only nine years old. Three seconds later, the door was wide open! Something rushed strongly into her; she felt how it went through her body. She felt to the floor, her eyes were full of tears, but she was mute. She heard just silence. Then, little steps ran near by. –Fiore, what happened? I heard a horrible sound! - Frank said. –Nothing - she answered while trying to hide her tears - I hit myself trying to open the door. I found you! One two three for you! - She said, in order to not scare him. She had just had a meeting with a ghost.
You probably have some questions about the story I have just told. Well, let me try to answer: Yes, it is a true story. No, she did not tell anybody. Yes, the girl was me. No, any psychological problem you could identify in me must be due to another reason, not this encounter. Perhaps, as I did, you have had an experience with paranormal. Maybe you have gotten one more than once –as I have- a diversity of forward e-mails telling stories about ghosts, with creepy pictures claiming to be prove of their existence or certificated testimonies. Nowadays, we are so used to the commercialized idea of Halloween that we dress ourselves and even our children with costumes representing how we imagine they look like. But, do we truly believe? What are ghosts exactly?
Let us begin here, ghosts, what are they? I will give you the answer straight out: No one knows with certainty. Some people do not believe they exist, yet they are able to describe them. When we compare believers or not believers’ descriptions of them, most would differ on their idea of ghost, because there is not a certainty of what they are. According to Wikipedia,
“A ghost is defined as the apparition of a deceased person, frequently similar in appearance to that person, and usually encountered in places she or he frequented, or in association with the person's former belongings. The word ‘ghost’ may also refer to the spirit or soul of a deceased person, or to any spirit or demon. […]The term ghost has been replaced by apparition in parapsychology, because the word ghost is deemed insufficiently precise.”(1)
How is possible that I was able, at the age of nine, to assure that what I had seen was a ghost? I never saw any person- shaped thing, I never knew if someone had died or been killed on my house. I had a notion of goodness and evil, but no clue a devil could ever scare me like that. So why did I claim it was a ghost? Maybe subconsciously we have a hope inside of us that there is something else beyond our mind, that paranormal phenomenon exists. However, this little hope must have been created by the media messages selling its existence.
There are plenty of cases of hundreds of thousands of people stating that they have had paranormal encounters in some point of their lives. According to a poll conducted in 2005 by the Gallup Organization, about 32% of Americans believe in the existence of ghosts (2), proving that a good portion of the population thinks they are real. But is there any way we can prove they are? Has anybody studied these phenomena and tried to give a valid explanation to these cases before? Is this studied now?
Actually many people has tried to answered the infinite number of questions yet remaining in believers and not believers’ minds. In 1957, at North Carolina, a professional association of paranormal phenomenon researchers was formed. This is the Para-psychological Association, created by Dr. J. B. Rhine. It is engaged with the study of “psychic” (or “psi”) experiences, such as telepathy, clairvoyance, haunting, remote viewing, psycho kinesis, psychic healing, and precognition. The objective of this institution is to give a scientific explanation of each of these experiences. About ghosts’ existence, they state:
“The prevailing view today is that the mysterious physical effects historically attributed to ghosts (disembodied spirits), such as movement of objects, strange sounds, enigmatic odors, and failure of electrical equipment, are actually poltergeist phenomena. Apparitions that occur without accompanying physical effects are thought to be either normal psychological effects (i.e., hallucinations), or possibly genuine information mediated by psi.”(3)
A poltergeist phenomenon is defined as a direct mental interaction with the living, usually produced by a troubled adolescent. It seems to demonstrate the power our minds can reach, that we can really affect the world and those who surround us with our minds. (4)
I really thought that what I experimented in the storage room was a ghost. Now, an expert on the field tells me ghosts are recreated by human minds. Then ghost do not exist. Sounds simple, does not it? But how would you convince a nine years old girl that experimented such a thing that it was just a product of her imagination? Now it turns to be complicated matter. The fact is that the majority of the adult population - not even some scientists- can explain it, nor understand it.
Why is then, that a third of the total population in America believes in ghost existence? The idea of their existence is as old as humanity, looking for a hope in life after death. In the beginning, Pre-Colombian civilizations used to offer sacrifices to spirits primarily found in the nature; we excuse their beliefs with their ignorance. Then the development of religion came to the scene. There are a lot of religions all around the world, varying from region to region. At least we, as Christians, believe in one living God and the everlasting life in heaven. We believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the existence of angels and demons. We do not have any reason to believe in ghosts.
Then why do we manage a concept of ghost and a mental image of their appearance? Why do we believe even when we seem to have no reasons to do so? Let me try to explain it. I would attribute the responsibility to “the power of the media.” Mass media play an indispensable role in contemporaneous society. Public opinion depends on the media. Massive ways of communication such as television, radio, and lately, internet, communicate global ideas to individuals and reproduce the self image of society. Media has the power to limit our capacity to think and act by our own. This is because they constantly bombard us with influential messages, controlling our thoughts, wishes and “needs.” Media is actually the medium that businesses have to sell their products.
Think about the Halloween industry for example. Halloween costumes are traditionally those of monsters such as vampires, skeletons, witches, devils, and guess what: ghosts. To sell this holiday, we first have to sell the idea of these stereotyped Halloween monsters. This supposes that, if I believe ghosts exist, then they would become something worthy of a costume honor during this holiday. What about the e-mails we get, coming from a friend of a friend of our friend, trying to convince you about ghosts’ existence? Think about the quantity of newspaper’s articles, magazines, books, television and radio talk shows, and scientific investigations inspired in this phenomenon. How much money would not have moved all around the world if we had not the idea of ghosts surrounding us?
Ghosts do not exist, that is a fact. We can assure it even when some say there is not enough proves and arguments supporting it. They are just a result of our imagination, sometimes a psychological escape to stress or pressure, a manifestation of troubled adolescent’s power or the evidence of our capacity to develop our minds in uncommon areas, like for example the ability to affect physical world just by thinking on do so - psycho kinesis. Maybe as a little kid I did not understand it. In fact, it is hard to me to figure out what was exactly what I lived and why I did. The true is that it was definitely not a ghost; that is for sure. Not only Para-psychological Association proves so, but my Christian’s beliefs too.
______________________________________
Works Cited

(1) Ghost. Wikipedia, online encyclopedia. 08 Dec. 2007. 11 Dec. 2007.


(2) Park Musella, David. “Gallup poll shows that American’s belief in the paranormal persists.” www.findarticles.com Sept. –Oct 2005. 11 Dec. 2007


(3) (4) “Frequently Asked Questions, page 3.” Para-psychological Association. 12 Nov. 2007. Innovated Software Design. 11 Dec. 2007.

...

te escribo estos puntos supensivos
porke sigo suspendida en el espcaio
en el descifrar el papiro revelado
ke hoy abre mis ojos.

te dedico estos puntos supensivos
porke sigo clavada en la nada
con una estaca de plata en la espalda
ke clama mi muerte venidera.

porke sigo atrapada en el silencio
en las palabras con oraciones incongruentes
en la esperanza ke se pierde
en mi exhilio.

porke sigo sin poder respirar, sin alivio
no kiero ke pase el segundo ke viene
ke se aproxima inevitable, inaludible mi desgracia
porke puedo sentirlo...

porke sigo ahi, inerte, vacilando
en la oscuridad del peligro, la ironia del destino
sigo pensando en mi camino,
la inexistencia de lo ganado
por eso los escribo...

callas

Callas... en tu intento por cometer
el crimen que ocultara tu pecado
y tu silencio desnuda el pasado
y me abre las entranas como fuego.

Callas, y condenas esta anima
a penar por los rincoes del rencor
que le tuviste, que le guardas
que te hace olvidar que le llamaste amor.

Callas, me devuelves al infierno
mas si el fuego me consume
si el invierno me conserva
sere pura y vida nueva sin tu celo.

Callas... sigue entonces en tu silencio
que si me traguase el cielo
si me engullese la sociedad
no tengas nada que decir ni que hablar.

Calla, sigueme ignorando
pero paga el precio de lo que estas ganando.

A Angel: Te extrano

Pasa el tiempo, acumulando recuerdos
pasa y deja en el alma desafios
remembranzas de lo que no puede quedar en el olvido
que se dice pasado, pero vive en el presente.

Pasa el tiempo y sigo aqui, de pie, luchando
sigo siendo, sigo muriendo, sigo respirando
en continua calma, en serenidad ajena, asfixiante
en continuo silencio, huracan que enardece mi carne.

Pasa el tiempo y no consigo olvidarte
por mas que pasa tu te mantienes vigilante
velando mis pasos, cubriendo mi ingenuidad
cuidando mi alma, dandome inseguridad
y confianza.

Soy cuando vos sos conmigo
soy lo que vos quisiste que yo fuera
soy lo que te dejo mas no dejas
y lo que mas persigues aunque asi no lo quieras.

Me traspasas con tu sola mirada
que aunque yo no vea, la siento, me quema
me traspasa y llegas al fondo de la escencia
a lo que siempre llame tuyo
a lo que te pertenece
porque solo vos lo conoces.

Por tenerte tan cerca mio sin que tu lo sepas
te extrano mas que nunca aunque tu no lo creas.

Dating Halo, "Adictively Ideal"

It was not until I heard Jose’s story about last night’s virtual adventure that I realized what was actually going on with Josh.
Since three weeks ago I noticed my boyfriend Josh’s mood, getting lower and lower every day. He was noticeably tired, sleepy and sometimes he did not eat -almost never-. He told me twice he had not made it to his first class –at 9:00 am- and I knew some other times he did not go too, but he did not tell me. Obviously I thought something was wrong, even when he swore there was no reason for me to think so. I knew that we were only days away from tests week. I also knew he was not doing so well on his mid-term grades. Then I deduced he was really worried about it; he must be. Maybe he had been studying so hard that he did not want to tell me, so I could not feel responsible for the time he spent with me rather than preparing for his evaluations. It sounds logical, and romantic, does it not? Maybe, but in the end I never asked.
Tests week passed, and after seeing Josh so worried just a few hours before each test, I did not support my first “sweet and romantic” theory anymore. At the end, nobody is that romantic. He is simply not. So maybe it was my fault. Our class schedules do not coincide in anytime, and the only class we both are taking we do it in different sections. Therefore, the only time available for us to share is in the evening for dinner time at the cafeteria on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and at night after doing our homework for the rest of the week. Sometimes we do our homework together –and by together, you should understand “seated next to the other” because that is what we really do- to at least see each other. Then close by curfew, he gets me to my dorm, he goes to his dorm, and when he gets there he calls me. That is for sure, it is our routine; we almost never fail on that. Yes, it should be my fault; because sometimes, especially when we do not spend real time together, the night calls extend until 3:00 a.m., seriously.
After thinking about it, I decided to talk to him, to know what was going on, and I did. He told me that I should not feel guilty at all. Apparently, he was just tired, missing home, having a hard time reading for some subjects, etc. I did partially believe him, but I was not quite sure after noticing some of the results of his tests. I mean, he is not a bad student but he can do better. Everybody knows that! He is a Walton scholar!
Consequently, when I heard Jose talking very exited about a videogame “Halo” and between the lines I caught Josh’s nickname-“Warrior”-, I felt everything started to make sense. No, it was not studying time. No, it was not the time he spent with me. It was not even the midnight calls. “Halo” was the problem. He was actually playing Halo during and after our calls. Sometimes until 4:00 to 5:00 am!
Why would he and other 10 Harding-Latin students spend their night hours –supposedly to sleep- on a videogame? I had to find out what was so “special” about this game. The way you can really tell something about anything is to experiment it. So, I needed to play Halo, in order to give an accurate opinion about it and why do the guys find it so good. I did. Well, I tried. Guess how I ended? I ended totally confused, dizzy, with a really bad sensation of emptiness, stomached and like a complete fool. I did not perform well at all in the game, they killed me after 3 minutes!-and that because I poorly moved on the screen. It is terrible! You have guns, and the more aliens or people you kill the better your score is. What makes it even worse, it is made in 3D, so if you are not familiar with that kind of “virtual worlds” you will end just like me: feeling nauseated, dizzy and without any possible thought of food.
Now I really did not understand it at all. Actually, I was starting to get mad at Josh about it. I really did not want to argue with him, because it really seemed he really enjoyed the game and find it good. So I started thinking about why did he really like playing them with such a passion. If the game is not really good, maybe it should not be about the game. Perhaps it is what he found in that game, or what he could find in any other. What videogames offer, in general, is the statement of a virtual reality in which you can perform virtual personalities and abilities, is not it? Virtual reality, of course, is not true, but ideal. So, I deduce that what the guys, including Josh, look for in Halo is the possibility of an ideal world, where they can perform as a person they are not and with the abilities they could never have in reality.
Why do we, as humans, need ideals? Why does Josh find it in a videogame? Actually, we always try to find a shelter, somewhere to hide from the aspects of our reality that hurt us or that we do not like and want to avoid. A virtual world is a good example. So maybe Josh hid from his academic development problem, the fact of missing his family, the impossibility of helping his family on their problems in his country, and perhaps other things he just kept for himself as we all do. Now I really understood him.
Perhaps it was not the best way I found out all of these. But it worked, and I know Josh would never give me such an appreciation because he is not really aware of his situation. So I talked to him again, but this time I did with –what I guess is- a total understanding. I did not state any solution for his adiction to Halo, but I suggested better ways to organize his time –this, of course, after arguing about not saying a word about the Halo stuff. At the end of the day I love him, but I am deffinitely not dating with Halo anymore!

Te extrano

El silencio describe lo que nuestras palabras enjauladas no pueden desatar...
la distancia que une los destinos inciertos, titubeantes de nuestras vidas,
los sentimientos ke pese a cualkier cosa nos mantienen vivos, respirando,
y la muerte que circunda nuestros cuartos, revelandonos la realidad.

Las cosas son mejores cuando se disfrutan en silencio
y es que con el tiempo uno aprende que la risa coexiste con el llanto
los fonemas con el descontento y las oraciones con la vanidad


una cosa extrano verdaderamente de hablar
es que no hay otra cosa que me regale motivos ni encantos
la mirada furtiva, evasiva, desafiante y hasta tierna y dulce a veces
ni el nectar prohibido, ese que jamas sera tuyo, en mis labios.

Duele lo que nos une, aun mas que lo que nos separa
tanto que hasta pudiera compararse con castigo, verdugo o hiel.
Sin embargo me fortalece el poder llamarte amigo, hermano
el que tu confesion bendita haya quedado tatuada en mi piel, en mi historia.

Que te sirvas de esta prosa para acordarte de aquella luz
que aun no puediendo ser eterna pudo ser tuya, sincera.

Te extrano

A Ricardo:

Por que en responderte he tardado tanto?

Un frio inmenso atrapa mi corazon al leer tus palabras,
congela la posibilidad de experimentar otro sentimiento
sino el saberme tuya, ajena a lo que te pertenece
y propia como nadie a quien le he dado mi afecto.

Tu sabes que te quiero con el alma, mas que amigo
pero no de la manera que merecieren tus atenciones
me pesa en cada paso cada verso, tu poesia
que ha invadido mis venas, me envenena el pensamiento.

quisiera poder dedicarte mas que estas pocas palabras
que no son mas que eso, simbologia absurda
sabiendo cuanto te quiero sigo al margen del encanto
por no querer amarte, por no quererte tanto.

Porque duele.

Un frio inmenso atrapa mi corazon al leer tus palabras,
congela la posibilidad de experimentar otro sentimiento
sino el saberme tuya, ajena a lo que te pertenece
y propia como nadie a quien le he dado mi afecto.

Tu sabes que te quiero con el alma, mas que amigo
pero no de la manera que merecieren tus atenciones
me pesa en cada paso cada verso, tu poesia
que ha invadido mis venas, me envenena el pensamiento.

quisiera poder dedicarte mas que estas pocas palabras
que no son mas que eso, simbologia absurda
sabiendo cuanto te quiero sigo al margen del encanto
por no querer amarte, por no quererte tanto.

Porque duele.

to experience flowers

God is powerful. He reminds us that in many ways. He is in every single breath we take, every tree that moves with the wind, and in every leaf that falls down. The sunlight blinding us, the water keeping us alive, the ground witnessing our steps, all that lives proclaims His glory. But in the middle of all His majesty, there is just one single thing that catches my attention more than anything else: the flowers.

It is really amazing how I feel attracted to flowers. When I was a child I used to see them with curiosity. Whenever I saw one, I felt like it called me on silently and I, innocently, answered the call. The nearer I got to it, the more fascinated I was. When I was close enough, I could stand there for minutes! (Consider that I was four, and even now it is really hard for me to keep my concentration on just one thing at the time). I admired the brightness of its colors, the form of its petals, how it was supported by a stem, and how the stem supported leaves, and so on. Suddenly I could not help it anymore. I had to do it. My hands shook and I started to sweat. I knew it was wrong. My mom had told me so many times before. But I wanted it. So I touched it, grabbed it, ate it, erased it. Then I needed to take another one, but instead of eating it (I never found a flower that tasted good enough to eat twice) I used to tear it into small pieces with my hands; It felt so good!

What made me do that? Could it be the bright colors they have? Or was it simply the prohibition my mom gave me to touch them which incited me to it? Maybe it was my ignorance of the fact that if I keep them on the ground they will look beautiful and be there for me longer than if I take them; or maybe it was the fact that my name means flower in Spanish and I was just “predestinated” to do so. At the end, I guess the most logical explanation is this: the need I have to understand and experience empowered me to kill them. Besides that I did not really understand the meaning of ephemeral or killing. I was hungry for knowledge: what is that? How does it taste? How does it smell? How does it feel? How does it sound? What is it for? Why does it exist? Can I have it? Why not?

Fourteen years later, things have changed a lot. I do not see flowers that way anymore. In fact, I do not notice their presence in my life most of the time. When I am not in a hurry, which is very rarely, I contemplate them, but respectfully, carefully, and shortly. Maybe the only situation in which I really paid attention to them was whenever they are surrounded by my boyfriend’s hands; while I was listening pretentious words that sounded sweet in that moment (and would not sound that way now).

I feel attracted to them, maybe as much as when I was a kid, I confess. But I do not need to experience touching a flower, or smelling it, or tasting it. I already lived that, I know what it is like. I keep eating them, but now I eat them on a salad or make some tea with them; and I know mom would have nothing to say about that. I do not pick them anymore. Even worse, I buy them and put them on vase placed in the middle of my dinning table, and it is ok!

What makes it right? Why was it not right to pick them and eat them when I was four and now it is? I would say conscience. Now I know they are alive as I am. I know that if I pick 10 there are lots of more growing up somewhere else (or even in the same place). I know that not all the flowers can be eaten. But, was it not better to see things with the grace of discovering the unknown? Or was it not better exploring the deliciously beautiful already known? It is, because I keep discovering and exploring, but now the subject matter has changed. I need to do things in the wrong way to know what is right to do. I have learned from the experiences though, and now I adapt to the circumstances that affects them. And most important of all, even when my experiences make me grow, I keep being myself; I am still captivated by flowers, their colors, shapes and, specially, by their flavors.

Aire pasa por mi cuerpo
pero el oxigeno no se queda
Sobrevivo por lo que tengo
lo que adquiero: experiencia.

Mas las reservas se agotan
tarde o temprano caere.
Mientras siga lloviendo fuego
Si Dios me guarda, morire.

Te amo,
Como el Verbo ama los labios...
Agena a la a fuente de la que emanan los fonemas,
Sujeta al Alma de los Versos.

This outstanding feelling is never leaving! It never will!!! this is the kind of things I always say when you r with me!!!!

Por no decir adios...

Te amo
tu sabes que lo hago
como se ama lo desconocido
lo eternamente perdido
lo inoportunamente hallado.
Te amo.
Y jamas pense en decirlo
pero para tu desagrado
te mentirias a ti mismo
si te empeñases en negarlo.
Te amo.
Como nunca se habia visto
es mi amor tan incoherente
unico, posible, inherente,
destinado a ser prohibido.
Te amo.
Y si antes calle tu nombre
me retracto y por decirlo
pierdo el tacto y tu cinismo
me hace desistir conforme.
Te amo.
Por lo tanto que no hiciste
Por no dejarme gritarlo
porque negaste que la historia
no ha terminado, aun se escribe!
Te amo.
Y es mi voz al pronuncialo
como brisa de montaña
tan en cuspide, tan alta
que no habrias de escucharlo.
Te amo.
Y es mi silente proclamo
la evasion de la razon
no lo digo por decirlo
mas por no decir adios.
Te amo
Y te doleran estas palabras
Pero es mas facil admitir
a resignarse, al olvido
a ignorar a quien se ama.
Te amo
y me basta imaginarme
tu mirada al leerlo
tu alma rompiendo mi silencio
que nunca mas podra llenarme.
Te amo.
Como me quemas en los labios
Lo repito estas diez veces
por un amor que de repente
dejo de ser de humanos.

Pero que es el amor?
Comunicarse es imposible
Porque apartir de mañana
deberia pretender
que no existe esa palabra.

just if u dont notice...

Here I'm still gaming!

To Mau!

La tinta indeleble de tus pupilas
ha clavado en mi corazon tu azul mirada
quema y me consume
como los besos que no me diste
y que mis labios te reclaman!

to Angy!

Calla entonces! haz lo que quieras
pero vuelveme a besar!
Que tus labios no castiguen esta inerte oscuridad
que encuentra sentido soloc onlos besos que le niegas!
hazme sentir! Sublevate a lo eterno!
Que el destino prepare el momento
en que sea para ti!
Por un beso, un casi inocente beso!
No me dejes abandonarme asi!
Que hoy hayas sentido lo que yo!!!!

I dont want 2 fall in love...

Haces tuya esta poesia...
No basta tu absorta mirada
ni seran suficientes tus palabras
Ahora dependo de tu calor...
Sentirme siempre protegida por tu abrazo,
como una aurora boreal
que en su infinito multicolor me hace sentir
segura... me hace sonreir.
Haces tuya mi cobardia
mi callar tu nombre bendito!
No basta compartir uno solo de tus momentos
ahora dependo de cada movimiento
tan caracteristico de ti.
Soy predecible, lo se
y adivinas mis palabras!
pero parece que al pronunciarlas
fueran muy pocas para ti...
que no soy digna de tus labios
ni de ese juego con que tus manos
me desarman y no me dejan
hacer nada, incapacitada a volver en mi...
a mi locura infantil,
a mi cordura infeliz
que desaparece al verte,
al saberte tan pendiente
de lo que nunca fui
de lo que nunca sere
de lo que esperas de mi...
No bastan tus ojos que en la penumbra
se transforman en mi luz,
ahora dependo de la palabra
que mejor decidas tu...
y me guardo tu nombre!!!

Sos la Mejor!

Por un "estoy embarazada", sangre y dolor
desvelos de quien escoge tu noble mision.
Un llanto a media noche, un grito, un tembloroso "MamiIIiiiIIIiiI!!!!"
por un abrazo en nuestros miedos
por tu cabeza asintiendo
a la pregunta: "Puedoi dormir contigo?"
Por un "te quiero mono feo!"
Por un Te Amo que
en sus 5 letras hoy se hace eterno
testigo de una verdad
aunque no quisieras, es cierto
Soy Tuya Mama!
Soy la que has cuidado por tanto tiempo
(Y seguro seguiras haciendo) como solo tu podrias hacerlo
Por una semilla que has hecho crecer
y esta pronta a florecer...
Por eso eres la mitad de mi vida!
La sincera, la sensible, la incomprendida, Tu!
La increible, la bella, comprensiva y compartida
PERO MIA!
la que no lleno solicitud!
Regalo de Dios, terrible bendicion
testimonio del amor...
Suena facil, peroe s dificil describirlo...
Por todo lo que has sido conmigo, mami
Seras siempre la mejor!
Katsura

Llueve

Sigue lloviendo
gota a gota se acaban las excusas,
es imposible no ceder
no dejarse conquistar
por la melodia constante
de su ser natural
de su escencia.
Llueve a cantaros!
Furiosa, incesante,
desata la vida sus penas
aclara la esperanza sus dudas
encuentra la calma el silencio
evoca el recuerdo la melancolia
furiosa existe e inquieta apacienta.

Tengo un ciclon consumiendome
justo donde lo
dejaste, digno de ti,
ke paraliza en su constate son
todos los sensores
y la klma
ke me hace recordar lo ke olvidaba
por no kererte frente a mi.
Descansa trankilo,
cierra tus ojos en mi presencia
velare tu sueño
armada de las ganas de no amar
y en la inconciencia de tu belleza
soñare despierta, dormire feliz.

La inspiracion viene y se va ella sola...
no es cuestion de tiempo, lugar, clima, personas...
¡Ella sola es su propia voluntad! ¡Como ahora!
Ahora que escribo sin sentido estos versos
recogidos del baul de lo inaudito
de lo prohibido
de lo amado.

Sola
y toca mi esperanza
y la pluma me traiciona:
se deja deslizar sobre el papel
sin dueño
poseida por la sed
de ser mas que tinta,
mas que culquier cosa...
Sentirse importante, ¡Libre!
aun sin mi parecer... Pero la dejo...

Este es un tiempo en el que ya pocos preguntan por que,
ella me invade, y yo simplemente callo...
¡Que hable ella por si misma!
y por el engaño
de creerse digna, de saber que es...

Es cuestion de experiencia
dejarla simplemente ser.
Rompo el hielo, no resisto
quiero saber por que
se ha enamorado de mi celo
de mi ignorancia...
y su voluntad es quedarse callada.

Buenas Noches 1

Procurare estar en tus sueños
como un duendecillo absurdo
que en su silente elocuencia
desate uanmirada tuya,
y solo una
que le haga sonreir...
Buenas Noches!
Katsura

Well well well... lets see what happens!

Ok, I finally decided to create my blog... maybe Ill publicate my short tales and a journal... this is so weird! but ... ok, lets try!