In style

 (Shoe by Christian Louboutin)

I want those glittery shoes 

with skyscraper heels 

and thick platforms.

 I also want to walk in them 

smoothly and gracefully, 

just like Jesus did

on wavy waters.

Amen.

The itch of exhaustion

Definition:

When you realise that still there are
so many great things to do,
but you're anxious and exhausted

and your inner flame is gradually fading
after spending too much time doing things
that made you itchy and feel not as great,

only if...


But if you happen to feel the itch of exhaustion,
grab the chance! let it pierce your heart
and be kind to it, don't fear it, listen to it

because it's telling you that it's time
to live again, to create a star from candlelight,
that same star you always wanted to become,

no matter how big or distant,
or simple and humble,
you'll always shine on,

but only if
you remain true
to your real passion.

So close to happiness (with very little effort)

If only we lived constantly
in the flow of this truth:
that we're far away from being perfect

and so close to happiness!

If only we could forgive 
without any doubt
everything can make sense 

with very little effort.

Funny little speech (reflection on the truth & written very, very humbly)

 What was that shit-whole something all about?

What’s the purpose of it if not to honour the truth in hilarious ways? Why would i speak to all of you with false words and white lies when i know that my little speech could lift or break your spirits? or simply put you to sleep? Why would i be false instead of telling you of the intention of my silly words, which is wholesome, even when i fail to make bloody clear what some whole shit is all about?

Forgive me if I curse, I fucking don’t mean it. Forgive me if I forget to acknowledge your ‘little self’ when I get distracted by my ample ego. Forgive me if you expected me to entertain you like a stand-up comedian, but fuck it! I won't. And this is the simple truth: 'me sucks at jokes, even at cleverly ones'. 

Now

There's no before, there's no after... NOW is the only eternal state of liberation.

Winter romance

No, it’s not the cold outside,

but the warmth in your eyes

that makes my lips tremble;

and I still long for another kiss,

this time with no lies, no ties,

without labels.

Like a magic spell

in this sudden fable,

I confess,

I surrender,

this time I suspect

love is inescapable.

In a maze of doubts,

and haunting shadows

the temple of freedom

patiently awaits us,

as we slowly walk

through icy streets,

holding hands, firmly, tightly,

with smiling hearts

and a world of dreams ahead of us.

Sweet stranger

Fist against my heart

and a long, deep humble bow

for you, sweet stranger.

Home (to Leonie & Adam, and to you as well).

Our home,

it’s not out there

it’s not in the promise

of lucky numbers

or of random lottery tickets,

nor in the pretty words

of a skillful house seller.

Our home is not made

of the things that we own

under the roof

and between the bricks

that we share,

it's not in the things

that we bought for each other,

nor in all the money

that we can save or spare.

Our home is under the sun

and in those five lines

we drew as children;

it's in the loving shelter 

we then offered

to our imaginary friend,

and to the lost pet

we once found and kept,

hoping to never part ways.

My home is with you,

and yours is with me,

my family, my comrade,

my neighbour, my lover;

and with you too, 

kind stranger.

Even if we had to spend

long nights under a cold bridge

or if we fell asleep

under an ancient tree,

our home is in us,

mine in you, yours in me,

as we rest safely

in each other’s arms.

'Aspirante equilibrista' (To Elenia, who inspired the title and the thought).

If in order to test your sense of equilibrium you would walk on a long high cable hung between two skycrapers, don't look down: the harmony and beauty of chaos will leave you in awe and you might as well feel like jumping.

The path is now

My death will not be long enough to give sufficient rest to the sufferings I’ve had in this life.   Before a new day breaks in or an old day fades away, I will be in the seed that soon anounces the birth of a baby boy or a baby girl.  Again, I will get another chance to learn from old sorrows, and to seek and find true happiness throughout the endless line of life.  But before dying this time and crawling again some day, I’d better make sure  that I sketch my future path graciously and righteously;  now when I can still walk firmly, with clear eyes and loving hands, and a heart full of faith.

To my very soul mate, wherever you might be -

A thousand lives back,

the silence of which I speak

has always, always loved you.

A million blue moons ahead of now

undoubtely, I will,

I will always love you.

Even at this moment,

when I still might not know 

the shape of your lips;

even when I still

might not have heard

the sound of your name,

my love is not at all still!

It beats for you in silence

and misses you warmingly,

my love, my very soul mate

wherever you might be.

En la Casa de la Cui'tura (inspirado en el Mae'tro Cabral, QEPD) - (With English translation)

Con la lengua ardiente como un dragón,
ebrio de barato vino tinto,
escupiendo a quemaduras,
gritaba el Mae'tro Cabral:
A mí no me manden a callai', COñO,
que la poesía se hizo PA'BLAI'LA!

In the House of Culture (inspired in the  'Master Cabral' RIP)

With his tongue hot as a dragon,
drunk on cheap red wine,
spitting burning fire,
Mae'tro Cabral shouted:

Don't tell me to shut up, COñO,
that poetry was made to be SPOKEN OUT LOUD!

Haiku voor de mist (with English translation). Also for Wendy.

Wat zoek jij? vroeg hij, | de blinde die alles ziet | met zijn bloot gevoel.

 

What do you seek? he asked, | the blind who sees all | with his bare feeling

Welcoming winter (double haiku, and a single poem). For Wendy, who triggered the inspiration.

The mist ahead chills | every effort of sight. | My eyes close in faith, | as i walk the path, | fearless of the blind future, | i beckon the clouds.

Para Patricia Pereryra - la artista dominicana que más adoro (with English translation)

Eres diosa humana,

diosa de poesía, de canto.

Y cuando hablas, tu voz recoge

el aliento de ultratumbas,

el cual sin esfuerzo respiras

dándole cobijo 

en tu profunda garganta.

Y entonces,

cuando cantas, diosa humana

el universo revela

lo que aún no sabía cierto

En sus entrañas;

y en las tuyas

se engendra en unísono,

otra canción de esperanza,

la cual persigo

con este simple poema,

anhelando escuchar tu parto

de melodías infinitas,

otra y otra vez.

(si quieres escuchar a Patricia, pulsa en este enlace  Patricia Pereyra, cantando El Mandala).

You are a human goddess,
goddess of poetry, of chanting.
And when you speak, your voice gathers
the breath beyond the graves,
which you breathe effortlessly
giving it shelter
in the depths of your throat.

And then
when you sing, human goddess
the universe reveals
what it still did not know was certain.

In her womb;
and in yours
in unison,
another song of hope is conceived,
which I pursue
with this simple poem,
longing to hear you giving birth
to infinite melodies,

over and over again.

If you want to listen to Patricia, the Dominican artist I adore the most, click on this link Patricia Pereyra singing El Mandala

 

Gratitude (to my family, friends, teachers and kind strangers... you are the nightingales in my life)

The Nightingale and the Rose
(Image by http://pjlynchgallery.blogspot.com)

That freezing night, one of the many that I've felt hopeless and lonesome, I let my doors wide open as if wanting the wind to blow me out of my world and dissolve my tears in faraway mists.

But instead of the wind, that same night, as if seeking shelter, a flock of birds flew into the wide room of my cold, trembling silence. One by one, they approached me and with their tiny peaks, they pierced my chest with hungry kindness.  Hungry for my aching love, for the sour nectar of my sadness, they perched my heart and drank the thirst of my solitude, of my abandonment.

And they sang and perched, and they perched and sang my song of hollow regrets and ancient sorrows.  With each note, they gently hushed the laments of my cracking voice.  And touch after touch after touch, the silence became all wings until it was not painful anymore.

That long night I made a promise to honour and not to taint the echo and the tunes of the breeze that carry the melodies of compassionate nightingales, who selflessly offered me their loving thirst to help me mend my broken dreams.  And ever since,  when I hear their harmonious notes,  my chest grows and blossoms into hundreds of splendorous roses, willingly offering to be perched once again.

Tonight, doors wide open, I stand fearless as I wave to the chilled blows of the passing wind.  I invite the nightingales in, so they can drink from the sweet and pouring gratitude of my garden, and find a home in the loving embrace of new-born red petals.

(This note has been inspired by the teachings of the Dharma and by Oscar Wilde's "The Nightingale and the Rose", but when searching for a suitable image, I learned that Florence Nightingale is the woman who is the mother of modern nursery and was a very caring person.  It is a beautiful coincidence!).

Beauty!

Beauty! 

anchored in my hungry eyes

and the bliss of life 

dancing around me, 

like a baby discovering music 

for the very first time.

Y es por eso que no desespero

La vida sigue, amor
como el amanecer que descansa
en la soñolienta y cariñosa noche;
como el ocaso que despierta
bajo la luz tierna e inquieta
de un nuevo sol.

La vida sigue, amor,
porque cada ilusión de finales
es un claro destello
de esperanza parida
por el incansable génesis
que preñado de desnudos
y hambrientos universos,

nos invita a descubrirlo.

Spiritual Reflection on Suicide and Re-encarnation (for those whom I knew, but left life by their own means)

"If in that one conversation I had with you, we had talked about suicide, this is what I would have told you that I had learned so far, now wishing that I knew then of your terrible suffering:

To rob your own life is a  lost opportunity to practice gratitude and compassion for those who have loved you, even if you never knew of their intended kindness. To offer your life for the happiness of others is the ultimate selflessness, but not when you lose your own battle against hope. 

To honour life is, for both situations, the middle way, the only way.  

If only you came to this realisation, your path to happiness would not be as harsh as you think it is when you consider suicide.  And if by misfortunes you fail into the delusion of self-hate and helplessness, but the fountain of your love and the pureness of  your intention are greater,  the greater is the chance for you to get to unfold and cultivate this truth as a higher being, in future lives.

And this is what I tell you my neighbour, my love, my friend, now that you have walked this terrible patch:   No, it's not too late for this conversation:  nobody judges you or blames you, somewhere, just now, life is welcoming again the blessing of your pure and genuine heart.  And this time, I pray for your happiness, that in your new rebirth you will be able to love and forgive all your demons.  I chant for you to glow once more, this time like a star that shines with bliss and never vanishes, even in the cloudiest  night.

With these words, I close my eyes and imagine myself warmly holding a new-born baby, as if she or he was mine".

Ineens, was het zó duidelijk (voor Jerry)

Ik praat (en praat).
Met volle aandacht,
je luistert.
Je lacht  zo mooi,
zo openhartig.
Stralend van echtheid
je vertelt, ik onderbreek,
ik luister.
En zo gaan wij door,
ontdekking na ontdekking,
op zoek naar schoonheid
onder de verre sterren.