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Literature Text
Si eres el cielo encima,
Lo que eres la lluvia triste.
Querido, me haces llorar...
Rojo y puro, fuiste -
Cayendo sobre mí
Con tal dulzura...
Ahora sangra, mi amor,
Sangra por la lluvia
Y ser mi aguacero
Lo que eres la lluvia triste.
Querido, me haces llorar...
Rojo y puro, fuiste -
Cayendo sobre mí
Con tal dulzura...
Ahora sangra, mi amor,
Sangra por la lluvia
Y ser mi aguacero
Literature
Real Estate
The cost of intellectual property has gone up.
I can already feel the ideas curdling like milk,
Strings of silver silk lining
Tangling it up so neatly--
A package for the loan-shark in my bed in the morning.
A message to my lover, to whom I owe such a debt:
All you ever do anymore is take.
My poems crumble at the touch,
Fading into the clusters of Sunday brunch and Family Guy reruns.
What's the price of the two seconds of quiet
Without a pile of unfilled lines awaiting my autograph
Ruffling through the papers you'll have me sign-
What wouldn't I give to sign with the devil, over you...
Teetering on the corner of thought,
My pen limp and b
Literature
Shamayim
The ancient land of Shamayim
was wrought by El the ever-fair,
together with his favoured son,
Yeshua Gentle-Hands and their
beloved wisest counsellor:
a man called Ruach Breath-of-El.
And ne'er were three such faithful friends
and ne'er did three agree so well --
that aided one must aid them all.
Thus prospered wondrous Shamayim.
The people built a throne for El
of golden bough and silver limb
with crystal lilies trailing down,
all glowing in his brilliance.
They sang and danced and played for him
and reveled in his radiance.
Yeshua sat at his right hand
and 'twixt them oft was Ruach found.
Yet many times he wandered out
towards Shamayim's f
Literature
La caja (algun dia)
Tirada en el patio esta la caja, sin etiquetas ni marcas, una simple caja. Todos pasan, pero nadie mueve a la caja, estática e inerte percibe los pasos, esos pequeños murmullos que la hacen recordar que no está sola y aun así el abismo continua.
En todos sus años de caja esta ha estado cerrada, pues ningún hombre ha decidido hacerse cargo de la solitaria caja, la cual carga con su contenido en el exterior; una caja inversa quizás será.
No tendremos remedio que contar que esa caja olvidada por todos más presente no podría estar, es el ombligo del mundo. Tras de ella se esconde la línea qu
Suggested Collections
Well...
I wrote this?
Hm.
------------------------------
Bleeding Rain
If you are the sky above,
Then you are the sad rain.
Darling, you make me cry...
Red and pure, you were -
Falling over me
With such sweetness...
Now bleed, my love,
Bleed by the rain
And be my downpour
I wrote this?
Hm.
------------------------------
Bleeding Rain
If you are the sky above,
Then you are the sad rain.
Darling, you make me cry...
Red and pure, you were -
Falling over me
With such sweetness...
Now bleed, my love,
Bleed by the rain
And be my downpour
Comments14
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O.O wow breathtaking. You need to write more in Spanish. It's almost like your poetic self transforms itself through the language. As does the play of the liquids in your poem: tears, rain and blood. I am thoroughly impressed ^.^