Rebecca

Rebecca, Rebecca release the sweet rose trapped into your fingernails, release the sweet rose that lacks entirely of thorns, it posses no sin, no threat to the pale of your palm. Rebecca, Rebecca, just let the entirety of it go, let is spun out of your mind, melt to the pavement, to the glued soles of your worn platforms. Rebecca, Rebecca do not resent the dawn coming through dust, bastard child of your love with the dusk, Rebecca my love the night is falling to the ground, the soundless leave of the comets welcome unwanted newly born sunrise.

Rebecca, Rebecca redemption is escaping your grasp, angel of mystics, doll of the clouds, nymph of the asphalt, striking the earth with voice of the divine, your sanctity is bound to the fear of your soul, doomed to the haunt, til again you are reborn.

Rebecca, Rebecca, born sweetly into sin, the candle in the dark that's blazing god's house, the candles of consecration burning the altar of misplaced prayers and intense violation of purity. Rebecca, Rebecca, and then she is feared by the parishioners and the nuns in their weekly pilgrimage for the love of some god, oh then she is feared by the mums with their children by the hand, feared by the sight of a sweetness of girl wearing her green eyes, pure blond of the strands lost in front of arson fire, mistaken by flames of a church evolved in bonfire. Oh and then she is feared gripping the wick in her hand. Oh Rebecca, forgiven by none, the scorn of old eyes, neighbours gather at her spite, every little soul of suburbia waking to her crime.

Rebecca, rebecca, didn't you believe like I? Rebecca weren't you god's most precious child? Rebecca weren't you supposed to be the saint of our lives? Wasn't your song that of the good lord? Rebecca what's going on? Is the parish the end of the road? Rebecca you'd behave and be sweet, you'd be good and polite, you'd be the tiny goddess that went silent to a nod, Rebecca what is going on?

Oh but Rebecca you've crawled into your skin and there you will stay forever more, never to been seen as the angel of your progenitor, Rebecca you've found out another kind of life, that won't allow no explained whys.

Rebecca pulled out from a needle eye, your rescue is flaming reflections on your eyes, no matter the faces of horror, you've found your redemption, your forgiving archangel is your own. You've born into your skin, you've found the blissful sin setting you apart, the freeing sign of an actual beating heart. Pulled out from walking death back into life, with no virginal gowns a shameful way to birth the new spirit of true.

Oh will you miss Jesus? Yes, but Rebecca, Rebecca today you've spread flames to your old life, how does it feel like to leave everything behind?


Rebecca, Rebecca with none by your side.

Star of my life

We stare into the communion of sadness
the world betraying its gut for bleak anxiety
the roofs can't be climbed
the hours can't be misplaced
days fail to be numbered

Morrison asks now
did I shine?
Was I a shooting star?
Shotgun of comets aiming at moon's bastard child?
From ashes
Lover?
Did you hold your breath at my sight?
deep
deep into the profound night

Starless constellations filling wishes
everybody dies
few get a star

Hoshi the baby mumbles
and satan's angel
gives her
one
pure grain
of charcoal sand

Here, this is your tiny
tinest piece of star

Go chasing comets
cars,
paper planes off the ground
and never comeback

Star of my life

Nagareboshi

Es un avanzar haciendo elipses sobre si mismo
el tiempo se ha vuelto un ciclo
avanzar
a pasos atragantados
pasos agigantados
y el gigante es apenas feto
pasos con vocacion de canibales
suicidas
que se tragan, enredan los caminos
tragan espacio los indecisos
se atreven y se tragan
hasta el eclipse
que se trago al sol

No me llamo hoshi, no me llamo Orion
no respondo a hijos bastardos de la luna
no soy unica y absoluta
fugaz...

Esporadica, ilusa, retinente
ciclica sin pudor
dispersa, hija de puta
nomada que renta su direccion
nomada ficticia que le quiso copiar a Morrison
y no
no le salio

Mi unica esperanza yace en la espera
la trisstessa,
sordida espera de generaciones y años
de mitos humanos tan urbanos

Espera del abuelito con su nieta
que por alla por 1918
alguna vez dijo
mira
una
cometa


(Nadie dijo que supiera escribir en español)

Lvcy....

Fragmento de la mente I

Soy (o me asumo) tan libre
que no me puedo estar quieta
Me la vivo haciendo circulos entre
las esquinas del aire
Como una elipse que se va expandiendo
cortando mares
hasta que un dia
se devora al mundo

Luc. S.H. (Lvcy...)