Stoned

Mellowing in bliss, I´m not here nor there.
I am numb, devoid of drive, extinguished of bittersweet flavours.
My will is disolved, I depend on a force no greater than my own.

Without discomfort I seek nothing better, without stress I build no resilience.
Nothing to push me, no proper heading, no way to go forward.
I'm a speck of dust drifting through the air.

Sleep I am, and was, no more.
A beauty sleep that turned into a nightmare, a stagnant dream where I run in circles.
I fall and get up, and then fall and get up, and so it goes forever.

I fumble once, and twice, and thrice, wasting time, it humours me no more.
A plain and boring life this daze has built, a plain and boring life that I resigned into.
Stagnant, my reality is, until I choose to face my demons, shake things up, and drop the habits that restraint me.

Greatfullness

The live I live is plain and simple.
No fancy cars, no debts, no pimples.

I go to work with joyous people and,
Though I amn't where I ought to be.
I laugh outloud for the world to see.

The people I love, they come and go.
I treasure the moment, I go with the flow.

Sometimes I laugh, and some I cry.
I may feel low, but I'll soon rise high.

The pains and troubles fall down like rain.
They cleanse the spirit, no need to strain.

For in spite to cold and the haunting darkness.
The sun is there, with warming brightness.

Despite my troubles, my pains, my lack of toys...
My simple life is full of loving, it's rich with joys.

Courage

It's around the time I want to stop,
That moment when I know I'm up.
The time to speak, the time to act,
The moment's mine and that's a fact.
It's up to me, it's time to shine,
Now why in heavens would I whine?

The moment's tough, it feels unpleasant.
I swiftly turn from king to peasant.
It comes with fear, it shakes my legs...
The nerves rack up, I long for kegs.
There's too much heat, it makes me fry,
I wish to God that I could die.

But fret I not, in spite the fear,
For now I know the end is near.
To walk the plank and jump, and dive in deep,
Is the only way, I know, I'll get some sleep.
My conscience rests, I did my part,
To face the fears and follow through; now that's an art.

Dead Man´s Wisdom

Damn ye be, that rough and twisted man.
The abuser who exploits all situations.
That frightening man upstairs that loves no other.

Damn be this crooked system that favours the ill-hearted.
Such a cruel game it pays on those less favoured,
So cruel and unfair, so horrible and victimising.

And here I am, stuck in poverty, laying in sorrow,
Drowning on a sea of tears, conforming with my misery.
Damn ye be, that twisted, darkened life for having fallen upon me!

But what it this I feel within, this horrid feeling that invades me?
That raging anger burning to my insides,
The frustration, the pain, the anguish I hold onto...

"It is the circumstances out there!" a voice flingers to my ears.
A familiar voice, it makes me suffer, it keeps rambling on the usual;
"It's the injustices and the bullies. It's the lack of balance in the world!"

But it doesn't make an impact, not this time, it makes no difference anymore.
I know for sure, somehow, it doesn't really matter.

The angered thought seduce my heart no longer in the midst of dying pain.
There was always something wrong there, an awry feeling poisoning the mind,
Something obvious that I failed to notice while my death was far from likely.

Could it be, that this twisted, darkened life was all brought about by me?

Tristeza (Spanish)

O desdeñada tristeza, eres la tiniebla de mi mente y el eclipse perpetuo que opaca mi alma.  Cuanto desearía yo, poder vivir sin ti.

Quizá en algún momento, fuiste bienvenida en mi vida; te extendí la mano, contemple tu romántica penumbra y bailamos juntos en medio de aquella amarga soledad que deja la desilusión.  
Pero eso no fue suficiente para ti.

Me sedujiste y me engañaste, me convenciste que jamás seria lo mismo intentar vivir sin ti. 

O amarga tristeza, si tanto es que me quieres como dices, por que no fluyes con el aire y me dejas ser feliz en lugar de persistir amargamente, estancada en el fondo de mi ser?

Por que limitas mi futuro, por que saboteas mi presente, por que manipulas mi pasado?  
Que ironía de la vida, esta cruel amante, si lo único que yo jamás he deseado es ser feliz.

De verdad no sabes cuanto desearía poder vivir sin ti.

No importa que tan fuerte brille el sol, o que tanto sonría en un momento de alegría, sin haberte convocado, siempre estas allí.

Sin embargo, en el fondo siento que algo no concuerda...
Reflexiono y analizo, luchando conmigo mismo por lo torpe que he sido.  
Que ceguera tan absurda en la que estado, pues hasta ahora caigo en cuenta que soy yo quien no te deja ir.

The Boogie Man

What is this anxiety?
The madness that trembles within.

"But it was provoked from without!"
shouts the voice of a defensive mind.
It brings me comfort..,
It allows me to become a victim...

Could it be then, that I am so weak and susceptible?
So easily influenceable and manipulatable,
that my being ceases to exist in the presence of discomfort?

That I am none but a robot that abides to command?
A machine that responds to whatever is imputed into my system?
A poor and hopeless puppet?

I open my eyes, however, and what do I see?
A perfect and finite organic structure commanded by will.
No buttons.  No strings nor chords attached to me,
Just a meek ghostly voice that whispers to my ear.

A command that was, perhaps, useful, once upon a time.
But has long been outdated and made obsolete.
A truth that once was but, now, has been proven a-fake.

So I resist the stimulus no more and give in to the feel,
I embrace the discomfort, that dreaded shock of madness that haunts,
The ghost of Christmas past,
That awful boogieman that lives only in my dreams.

So I sit and I wait while he whispers to my ear,
And he growls and he barks and he threatens to take over!
But I sit and I wait until it starts to disappear...

There is something within me, a fountain power.
I'm no longer a victim of what happens around me,
I stand up in the turmoil, I no longer cower.


I suddenly get it, there's no need to fight.
I know God's within me, it'll all be alright.

The Game of Life

From Illlusion to reality

What a beautiful illusion!
The sparkling lights and bubblies, the luxuries, the elegant peoples.
What more can one ask from life?

Tis it not the ultimate dream,
To hang around the riches, feel important and brag about oneself, and sip champagne?

Oh, what an elegant life!
To wake up to room service and have everything done by others,
While I sit back and relax, and enjoy my loneliness, and drink some more champagne.

Oh what a happy life, the amenities, the money, the distractions!
That wonderful, wonderful illusion...
That beautiful bubble.

What lies beneath, behind the curtains of the show...
The lies, the pain, the fear.
That sadness that turns hearts bitter.

The truth that lies beneath will haunt your dreams for years to come.
that vast emptiness, filled with banalities, protected by that treacherous fear.
It's all a fake, you see?
A sorry trial for escaping the inescapable...

The insecurity, the need, the desire...
That asphyxiating necessity for crutches.

The higher one flies through life's banalities,
the further off the grid one actually will be.
The longer the way down,
The harder one hits the ground.

The more you fake and pretend to be,
the less you really are.

Why on earth would you want to have a crutch,
When you can always choose to be?
To have might seem easier and more appealing,
But to be is forever more fulfilling.

And, why not just be and see where that'll get you?

You have a choice and it is yours to take!
Choose wisely, and calmly, and forget the fear that haunts you,
For what appears appealing at plain sight might result in sour over time.
And, what might seem as pain and burden,
May bear great fruit with time.

Life is full of trickery, and illusion, and fake suffering.
All created by the mind.
We must learn from what we like the least,
Tis a rule we have forgotten.
And it will hurt!
And it will sting.
But worry not for that's the catch,
We must endure and learn to laugh whilst crying.

For only then will the soul be allowed to blossom,
The inner self,
The being of light that lies behind the costume.