The Cycle of Words



Emptiness transforms words

into nothing.

It melts them with bitterness

and sobriety,

It seasons them with loneliness

and self pity.

It burns them to death,

Until the dust of what

once were words

float away.

Confused but free

they blend with the nowhere,

letting their pain be,

becoming oblivion,

Resting in peace.


Semana Santa


El aire habla de hacer arte

En medio de la desierta ciudad,

Voces tímidas detrás de las ventanas

Ansiosas por salir a bailar.

El olor a trago y a incienso se unen

Como amantes en un hotel,

Rezos, risas y gemidos liberados

Se pierden en las calles de un ayer

Que no está claro y no es lejano,

Que no se escuda en la soledad,

Vive en las rodillas penitentes

Y en los pañuelos con sabor a sal.

La luz toca los cuerpos muertos

De almas viviendo la resurrección

De la música y las pinturas mesiánicas

En el guayabo de la crucifixión.

Languidecen los rostros santos

Mientras florece el ser real

Iluminado en el drama confuso

Enaltecido en la irrealidad

De las mentiras del paganismo

Que dibujan las verdades del deseo;

Búsqueda incesante del abismo

De un reflejo de sí mismo en el espejo.

Descansa la humanidad hundida

En el pecado y la salvación,

Reposa serena la vida mía

En el placer de la observación.


This thing… I have never done it before, so I don’t know how it’ll go.

I registered my blog on the NaPoWriMo (which is kind of cool) and my challenge is to write a poem per day during the month of April… well, yeah, I’m a bit nervous because this is the first time I’ll do something like this. I’m not sure that my poems are good enough but I need to try, so this time I will try harder to keep up the pace with this commitment with myself.

This is a great exercise as I’ve spent almost a year without writing (my last post was something I wrote on 2016), that’s why I’m so excited about doing this and even if I don’t get too many visits I don’t mind, I just want to prove myself that I can write and that I can do it right. Where am I going to get the inspiration from? What if I’m not in the mood? I don’t know, I’ll figure it out everyday.

As English is not my first language, you guys will read poems in English and in Spanish, so I hope you enjoy it.

Read them, be honest and write a comment.

Pd: Please don’t kill me.



This poem was written in a moment where things were not easy but love was there, standing still.
Make your happiness or misery into words, make them poetry cause they’ll fly and they will dwell in those hearts who read them.

We are that thing,

That exception of nature,

The beautiful sound of the water

Through the rocks.

We are the awareness of the whole,

Of the life, of the love…

… But still, we are not together.

We are the pieces of the compass,

Solving the mystery of the lust,

Laughing with the touching of the senses

Feeling with the words of the poets.

We are the flight of the birds,

The sun in the horizon

The wind and the leaves,

But yet, we are not together.

Our history is like those ones,

That, unbelievably, we believe

That don’t exist in the mind

Of crazy writers

And sinner priests.

We are the nowhere

We are the space

We are the sand and the concrete

We are the time

We are one

But still, we are not together.