“Σύντομα” – Χορχε Μπουκαϊ

•April 9, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Γεννήθηκα σήμερα το ξημέρωμα
έζησα την παιδική μου ηλικία το πρωί
και γύρω στο μεσημέρι
έμπαινα ήδη στην εφηβεία μου.
Και δεν είναι ότι τρόμαξα
που ο χρόνος μου περνάει τόσο βιαστικά
Μόνο με ανησυχεί λίγο να σκέφτομαι
ότι ίσως αύριο
να είμαι πολύ γέρος
για να κάνω όλα όσα άφησα σ’εκκρεμότητα.

“Σύντομα”

ΧΟΡΧΕ ΜΠΟΥΚΑ΄Ι΄

Cosmic harmony

•April 7, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Things evolve all the time. Nothing stays the same. Lying to oneself about not changing is as cruel as saying that change comes in small steps.

Change is sudden and change is huge. All the time. That is why change is important.

 

Revolving doors are like stars in the sky flickering out of existence from a time gone by. We go through them full of hopes and dreams but if we don’t step out the right moment, well, we are sucked back out into our initial point of consciousness.

 

Material world is one step closer to fantasy every time we kiss somebody’s face instead of their soul. Holding hands, walking up and down in busy streets, caressing hair, all are fragments of an imagination running wild at the expense of pure improvisation. Replicating old behavioral patterns to the point of making life a time warp to the infinite number of repetitions.

 

Dissecting words for the sake of compromising feelings, allowing the mind to tamper with the thin line that keeps the in out sanity. We dare not breath out unless we breath in.

 

Forever delayed in our own pursuits of happiness we built bridges only to burn them so that we can look frantically at the unapproachable, sighing and cursing our fate.

 

Misery is a friend, sadness is a blessing, truth is but a mask covering the face of absurdity in a world governed by inexplicable white lies.

 

There is a song that keeps playing in our heads that dictates the way we choose to die. We focus on the meaningless ends of a twisted string that begins and ends at the same point, our desire.

 

Socialites, we are not. We are only collecting memories that have no true power over the vast deserts of the after world.

 

Breeding to expand our wishes over generations, trying to fill in the gaps adopted by our parents, we excuse ourselves and leave the table to flush down the toilet whatever we were given and never really earned, never really valued.

 

The love we make, the pain we take, the joy we give, come as easy to our heroic efforts to become obsolete in life, that we remain idle, but never the same.

 

Everything fits together nicely. There is a cosmic harmony that balances the odd with the even. Yet, we do not acknowledge this serenity in life, but we seek new ways to tip the scale in somebody else’s favor.

 

What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours. An eye for an eye and a life for us all. Sacrificing poetry to save banality, the modern remains modern, even when it’s the decadent enclosure of the past.

Relationships to a fragile existence of sensitivity over logic, crumble down like a house of cards. We want, we belong, we adore. We give, we take, we lose. What’s in me, what’s in you, a world apart, so small.

 

You want to let go and give in to feelings, baffled by the logical repercussions of happiness. The vast number of possibilities only perplexes things, creating a surreal juxtaposition of endless instants in time full of broken dreams.

 

Compromising is the new safe word.

 

Still, what comes to pass, will change forever who we are, even when we feel we are still the same, discarding the pieces of the puzzle that point to one final solution, absolution.

 

We put ourselves out there, grabbing the arms of others in the darkness of anonymity, pushing them into our circle of trust. We scream for meaning in a life where we are utterly alone in rooms full of others. And another will come and then another, and another, and another.

 

Go away. Sail away. Drown. Survive. The battle will never be won. It never has been. A battle won signifies the end of all wars. Change won’t come in light or darkness. Change comes in segments of gray. Ambiguous signals on stained walls.

 

A cosmic harmony of colors representing moods. We have learnt to be incomprehensible. And we suffer in our own inability to connect. Chipping the edges of our souls to become completely incapable of fitting.

 

But what if we do fit. After all our edges have become so rugged. What then?

 

 

 

 

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

•March 26, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Always looking at you

While you’re looking somewhere else

Our eyes rarely meet

When they do you wanna scream

Caged in feelings, a room two by two

Even with broken wings you’d still fly to your dream

Left to my own devices

Contemplating on the importance of being here

I laugh at my own patterns

Those human shapes that kill

Rewind, erase, control, decay

There’s no remote control for life

Only one huge stop button lingering over me

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

They had it so easy

Just a decision away, technology easing

The pain of forgetting to never be frustrated

Intolerable it is to wait in cold weather

The sunny beaches tattooed their name

On your arm

Senses coexist in ethereal perverse duality

We believe what we want

In order to hide our banality

We hurt for pleasure

We apologize for treasure

Shut up

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

They had it so easy

One decision away

I leave you

A pity

 

My words, your words

•March 19, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Buses come and buses go

Only victims here is time never standing still
Shadowplay with feelings
Projected on bloodied walls
We dare to dream and live life laughing
Balancing on thin strips of airways for our devastated promises
Songs to love, songs to dedicate, on voice mails registered
Forever engineered to perfection
Let the rain overstimulate the alchemy between us
Turning my stare to gold
A life, duality, Siamese memoirs
The notebook sets itself on fire
My words they do not wrong me
My words they do not wrong me
Your words
Your words
I miss your words
Dark cinema rooms of lust
We come alive, we come as one
And we try to adapt on this black swan event of serenity
When another question mark will mark the end of your frustration
Be free
And fly

 

Το κομμάτι που λείπει

•March 19, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Το λεωφορείο αφήνει πίσω το σταθμο στο βροχερό λονδίνο.
Η μουσικη στα ακουστικα τυλιγει τη στιγμη σα ζεστη αγκαλια που ψιθυριζει μηνυματα αισιοδοξιας.
Ναι, η ζωη ειναι δυσκολη, γεματη απογοητευσεις, απωλειες, πονο.
Μα ειναι χαρη σε αυτα και στο φοβο να μας συμβουν που καθε στιγμη ειναι τοσο μοναδικη.
Εννια ωρες στο δρομο σε ενα μεταμεσονυκτιο ταξιδι επιστροφης σε μια ακομα πατριδα.
Και το σπιτι, ακομα μια ιδεα. Μια ιδεατη πραγματικοτητα, μια ιθακη στα βαθη του πηγαδιου που ζουνε ολα τα θελω.
Αισθανομαι ζωντανος. Αισθανομαι γεματος αισθηματα και τοσα χρονια μετα, αισθανομαι πραγματικα οτι εχω γινει χιλια τοσοδα κομματακια διασκορπισμένα στο συμπαν σαν αστροσκονη.
Θελω να αγκαλιασω τη ζωη και να τη φιλησω γιατι την εκτιμω διάολε.
Ειμαι ζωντανος και επειδη ειμαι ζωντανος εζησα τη σημερινη μερα.
Ποσο υπεροχα γεματη εμπειρια αυτο το ταξιδι επιστροφης μεσα στη νυχτα.
Τα ταξιδια της ζωης μου.
Θυμαμαι το βραδυνο πρωτο ταξιδι στη Χιλη απο ο Σαντιαγο στο Πουκον. Ποσο μακρια φανταζει στο μυαλο. Παιχνιδια σκιων.
Θυμαμαι το λεωφορειο που με πηγε στο Βανκουβερ απο το Σηατλ και το τρενο της Γερμανιας που με πηγε στο Στρασβουργο, στην Ελβετια, στο Λουξεμβουργο, στην Αυστρια. Θυμαμαι τις διαδρομες αυτες με νοσταλγια. Ποσο γεματος νιωθεις με τα ασημαντα. Αυτες τις μικρες ωρες της νυχτας που παρεα με αμιλητους συνοδοιπορους μοιραζεστε τη διαδρομη που αλλους απομακρυνει και αλλους ενωνει.
Δεν θα αλλαζα τιποτα απο το σημερα. Ειμαι ζωντανος και αναπνεω για μερες σαν τη σημερινη.
Και εσυ θα φυγεις οπως ηρθες στη ζωη μου. Αθορυβα. Απο την πολη που κοιμαμαι δεν θα σε ακουσω να απογειωνεσαι.
Με αγγιξες.  Μου εδωσες πολλα. Με εκανες να αισθανθω οτι αξιζω. Οτι μπορω.
Αν σε ακουσω να προσγειωνεσαι να το ξερεις καλα οτι θα ειμαι δικος σου για παντα. Γιατι αυτες τις μικρες ωρες της νυχτας, στα λεωφορεια του κοσμου, ταξιδευοντας απο το σημειο Α στο σημειο Β, νομιζα οτι ημουν πληρης. Μεχρι σημερα. Απο σημερα κατι λειπει. Εσυ.

The Wall

•March 13, 2013 • Leave a Comment
  • My head feels like a cloud of dark, thick smoke has finally found refuge.
    I try to shake it off through mental attacks, but it only gets worse.
    I thought of you again last night, as the stains on the wall grew larger.
    I closed my eyes, and pictured you standing there. I felt your three-dimensional aura, and I swear I could sense your touch.
    You were talking, saying things I could not hear, as your mouth moved, but nothing reached my ears. It was as if suddenly the air had negated all wave activity.
    I was terrified. I could hear the beating of my heart, but I could receive the signals that mattered most, your words.
    I opened my mouth to speak, but I too felt I had hit a wall of muteness.
    And then you disappeared. Leaving behind you just a very discreet idea of a scent. An intoxicating fragrance, and I knew at that very moment that this wasn’t you, this wasn’t me, this was an idea.
    Ideas smell like this. Ideas smell so beautiful, so gloriously divine that turn your knees to jelly.
    It’s for ideas we go on crusades. It’s for ideas we build castles. And it’s for ideas we kill.
    I walked to the window and the night was bright and blinding. I closed the curtains again, and dust particles trampolined on the worn fabrics, like fireflies dancing around me.
    Looking back at the room I noticed the walls had closed down on me.
    The stains were now more visible than ever before. Huge stains of magenta. And I reach out to touch them.
    As my finger feels the coarse surface of the wall, I can feel the damp material and the goosebumps arrive unannounced.
    My finger slowly pierces through, the index first, and then the middle finger, and one by one they all disappear, leaving me with one hand.
    I push my arm forwards, and watch as my arm follows through.
    I feel the adrenaline travel through my veins. I fear it’s too much. I fear I might faint.
    I put my right hand on the stain and it too gets sucked in.
    I am a man standing facing a wall with two arms halfway through and now something from the other side has a strong hold of them.
    It pulls me closer to the wall and my face almost touches the coloured surface.
    And then I see them appearing through the wall. Two red-stained lips, like imperial ships that sailed with a quest in hand, to find the lost treasures of mankind.
    They touch mine, they are entwined in a kiss that plays tricks on my perception of reality.
    I feel weird toxins being released in my system, as the arms from the other side hold tighter to mine.
    This vice of forgiveness, this strange contraption, is showing me what duality in one is.
    There are no Siamese twins dying here tonight. There is only one big stain on an old wall. A stain in the shape of two in one. Forever entwined.

Forever and ever

•March 13, 2013 • Leave a Comment
Forever and ever
The words my heart sever
Entangled in longing
Your honesty choking
My meanings my thoughts
Your unrequited love
We breathe and we cry
Forever we die