Red Rooster

Based on Bukowski's Bluebird.

There's a bluebird in my heart,
and a red rooster under my skin.
The rooster says to the bird:
"Stay here, Stand your ground
Don't make a mess, don't touch the dirt!
And don't let dirt touches you.

I am not as strong as you weak
But I'm not afraid to bleed
I'm going to take your place at fistfights.
I know what are you thinking, bluebird:
'You are just a rooster,
brave until the last feather
fragile as the most solid of your bones.'
I don't know why this drive owns me
to take care of you:
so inmortal, so vulnerable, so blue
But I'm here just as you are.

Unlike you, I get older, I get scars
Sometimes I get high with anger and despair
When you are not watching me.
You are always inside your warm stickerbrush
Singing the same song at different colors and pitches
As if you're asking to be predated.
Thank god, I'm somehow unaffected by your spells.

One of these days, you're gonna get me
in a fucking big trouble
-crows the rooster, like warning itself-
So please never forget there is only a rooster
among you and the outside world."

And the rooster -as the Raven- never fleeting
Shake its wings, showing them up
knowing its fate is not to fly. Just to fight.
It doesn't wait for praise or redemption. Or even love.
Just go around and crows
keeping one of my eyes
wide open.

ChD.

Sin título

- Es precisamente lo que trato de decir- enfatizó ella mientras buscaba en los ojos de su interlocutor la aprobación que su conciencia le negaba. El otro detuvo la vista en el fondo de esa botella, ya vacía de pretextos para evitar un silencio incómodo. Antes de ser pronunciadas, las palabras se ahogaban en gestos sutiles, suplicando a gritos ser escuchadas. Dos gargantas carburaban sus motores con alcohol, en una carrera contra el temor a no saber qué decir. A no saber pecar de interesante.

A diferencia de una boca o un par de ojos, incluso de una nariz o un bigote, una oreja no tiene expresión. Sólo sabe estar ahí, aceptándolo o ignorándolo todo sin poder asentir o quejarse. Recordando ecos de conversaciones que sí valieron la pena y preguntándose por qué sólo lo supo al cabo de tanto tiempo.

Dream 451

En ese momento, Gabo me miró a través de sus inmensas gafas y con sus dedos señalándome el discurso impreso de aquél político de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, dijo: "Es un pésimo orador. El problema es que sus palabras sólo se entienden hacia adelante, pero no hacia atrás."

4 de Julio

Hoy los que siempre habían bajado los brazos, los sostuvieron en medio de los vientos.
Renunciaron a su memoria, a la identidad que cargaban como un lastre.
En la penumbra de las dudas, solo siguieron adelante.
La euforia pasa, la alegría se torna rutinaria.
Pero el recuerdo del valor colma la memoria en las horas de tinieblas.

Day (3)

Más sorpresivo que el día 1

Con más sabor a rutina que el día 2.

Él no lo vio venir. 

Pero lo hizo todo para que así ocurriera.

Como Rahab de Jericó

una mañana escuchas el rumor de tus muros

desmoronándose

Y solo puedes sonreír.

Nadie te puede despedir de este trabajo

aunque renuncies a él cada tanto.

De vuelta a la dulce convalecencia

de esperar 

para desear la siguiente espera.

ChD.

Director's Cut

Fuck you.
Fuck you and your heroic working class stories told in a fancy bar
showing off your country's miseries to make you look great.
Pretending you do not like the life you have provided yourself with efforts.
Fuck the dreams you have left away to make room to your class-passing fetish.

Fuck the academy and everyone on it:
Who only cares to get sold to the better cost.
Who sells what cannot be sold.
Who thinks the client will be always right whenever funding does afford.
Fuck who offers her expertise to approve crap
sinking in the couch called "we cannot have something better now, but we are still working on it".
Fuck who rebels only for his own needs, bribing with becoming a mercenary.
Fuck people trying to make honest reviews and editors selecting material for them
at the same time they want to figure out who wrote the paper.
Fuck the significance test-fishers who get the butter in their tables making scientific methods
meaningless.
Fuck academic feudalism supported by masters and servants who just want to be protected
from the horrific outside world.
Fuck who put her feet on somebody she respects as soon as she can, just to keep her status intact.
Fuck applied solutions' sellers who contributes to rot inside the whole thing,
sweep under the carpet what smells until it starts to stink.
Fuck who thinks he's better than the system just because he points out its mistakes
from tenure heights where he arrived stepping on the same dirty stairs.
Fuck who hides his prejudice where liberal thinking is the mainstream,
just because it is the place where nobody would search for them.
Fuck the "society's watchtower" disguise of academy, still alive just because society is too lazy to look
its putrid basements.

Fuck your goal of becoming a necessary disease who everybody clap.
Fuck you, selling your friend for a pinch of feeling of power.