Sunday, February 05, 2006

Filling empty bottles

The liquid has been spilled
in this dirty floor.
Too many years of escape
and strange holes.
Too many years of emptiness,
of getting dumb.
You're empty

Now.

I'm not empty.
Ideas are accumulated,
desires of building cities
with matches and newspaper.
Why can't you increase the dosis?
maybe, I can intoxicate myself in your flavors.
You can turn me into a dependent,
you always close your fluids,
always close your walls.

Empty... thirsty,
as usual.

I turn to strange lands
asking to myself
Why I have to fill empty bottles?
Where are the springs?
All my effort in your smile,
all my effort in your well-being,
my hands are bleeding,
And I...
I bleed, finished.
I leave
and turn around.
-The salt doesn't cover me now-

Who or how makes you change?
How and when it finished?
I want your anger, your laugh, your agony,
I want all back.
I don't care about the past
when present drowns,
when now is never,
when I ask you to hold,
a rock in your head
across you,
sink you,
makes you blind,
deff,
dumb,
nothing.

Filling empty bottles

Can I broke the glass?
Can I across your heart?
Can I resign to silence?
Inert, when I try to revive
you death contience.
Inert, when I try to make you smile,
for you... inert,
without move,
It's beautiful and explosive.
To plant this seed
I need that you open your lips,
I need that you swallowed without asking,
I need that you sleep and weak up... alone.
Alone.

Hold the bible of my emotions,
paper stained with wine,
with true and lie.
It's delicious to express my pain in your close ups.
It's a pleasure to across your black and white corners,
I agree with the world when I want to press your breast,
I stretch my reliefs in front of your horror -looking inside-.
I try to erase these marks wich belonged to another one from my cheeks,
other finger prints in your waist,
Lips impregnated with saturday's night coffee and barbiturics,
Ocasional encounter of my eyes in your sparkle retina.

Filling empty bottles.

Forget this lesson for a while,
lesson of misery... of constipation distresses.
We can make an agreement:
I, with my empty spaces above
compromise to repare in fifteen days,
without remorse or nerve tics of memories
a page and a half of your wonders.
You promise to put in my moments,
an extra dosis of your hands
in my naked chest,
in my strange oral customs.
Then definitively you fill me with air and candies,
I swallowed... emptiness and I stay away.

It happened that never happened,
that I gut my desires of talking to you,
I public expose my needful arts,
my hatreds and resentments
with strangers and no shame.
I prepare for you a bed of flatteries,
words filling emptiness,
cut and assemble poetry,
to solve your puzzle,
letter by letter to face you,
a secret pact with the stars,
and I try... and try to searching for you...

and filling empty bottles.

From: Tinieblas (Darkness). Llenando botellas vacĂ­as.

Translated spanish poetry

I try to be a poet. A lot of people who writes poetry says that they are'nt poets. Well, I think that if you write poetry then...

This blog is an space for showing to sajons readers my poetry... my pagan chilean sad poetry.

I will appreciate your comment.

Thanks

Oscar Flores Lucero
"Betro"