4 de enero de 2021

Har du lyst?

- Har du lyst å se en film? Jeg har lyst å se en film.

- Jeg har lyst å se en film.

Med deg.

Med deg har jeg lyst.

Å gå en tur. Ned til havet.

Som havet har jeg lyst 

å bli bølger. Igjen.

Og igjen. 

Frem og tilbake. 

Jeg kommer alltid tilbake. 

Bølgene krasjer ved steiner og kysten.

Og kysser.

Hver bitteliten av huden. 

Øyebryner. Nese. Leppene. Halsen.

Ned til havet.

Blått og grønt. 

Klar og dyp. 

Øynene dine. 

Teppet ditt.

Frem og tilbake.

Igjen og igjen.

Jeg blir aldri lei av det. 

Jeg blir aldri lei av dem.

Jeg er bølger.

Du er havet.

En film jeg har lyst å se

sammen.


29 de octubre de 2020

Hva skjedde med meg?

Hva skjedde med meg? 

Før så var det naturlig og enkelt «å gi», «å dele».

Nå sitter jeg her og observerer.
Innenfor blør jeg.
Det er råttent.
Slim kommer ut.

Hva skjedde med meg?

Kanskje jeg ga for mye,
og fikk ikke noe eller ikke fikk nok tilbake.
Det er vondt. Det kjennes vondt ut.

Jeg har skadet meg mens jeg prøvde
å kurere.
Jeg er såret.
Sårbar.
Jeg er redd.

Hva er «for mye»? Hva er «for lite»?

Nå sitter jeg her og kjenner kroppen min
som gråter
som skriker
og blør.

Jeg er desperat for å få og kjenne
Kjærlighet.

Jeg er desperat for å dele,
å smile.
Men

Hvordan gjør man det?

Jeg har glemt alt.
Jeg har blitt for opptatt av å beskytte meg.
Jeg er stengt.

Plutselig så kommer du og gir.
Gir et ord, deler bord, en samtale.
Gir ei bok, deler følelser og tanker, mennesker og verden.
En klem, så enkelt.

Nå sitter jeg her og observerer,
føler,
skjønner.
Ser meg gjennom deg.
Et speil.

Nå forstår jeg.

Det er varmt, behagelig.
Det er sol ute, så deilig.
Men jeg løper ut.
Løp.
Fort.
Gå hjem.
gjemmer meg.
Inn i mørket.
Beskytter meg.
Ikke rør meg.
Selv om jeg dør
For å være nær.

Hva skjedde med meg?

Jeg er redd.
Det gjør vondt.
Jeg vil gi.
Jeg husker ikke hvordan man gir.
Jeg må tøre.
Jeg tør ikke.

Hvordan gjør man det?

Jeg er redd. Jeg er redd.
Redd meg.
Kan jeg redde meg.
Jeg vet ikke. Jeg vet ikke.

Hvordan kommer seg man ut herfra?
Være trygg
med meg, med andre.
Være sterkt
mens man er ærlig, sensitiv
Sårbar

Hva skjedde med meg?

22 de octubre de 2020

Være nær


Ord er bare
tomme
uten mening
Ord er bare
et tegn
uten mål
skrap


Her sitter jeg
og du er ikke her
men du er rundt
hvor som helst jeg er


Mine ord er real
fordi jeg tenker deg
men de er tomme
uten lukt, uten smak
De er et tegn jeg ikke
kan se frem
fordi jeg kan ikke
føle deg


Det er bare en fantasi
Det finnes ingen empati
Det jeg ønsker er
å være nær

17 de marzo de 2018

Poesía

Me encuentro constante
mente atrapada en mi 
mente. Siempre digo
luego, quizás, en otro mo
mento. Y miento. Porque callo
y las palabras se en
callan. En el pecho, en la garganta
en mis pensa
mientos.

¿De qué sirve ser creativa
si luego todo queda guardado aquí
dentro?
Veo pasar el día, contemplativa,
y veo que aquí
dentro tengo tanta
vida. Y miedo.
Miedo que frena a compartir la 
energía, positiva.

Y me canso, de callar.
Y la ansiedad no me deja
respirar.

Me pregunto qué debo,
parar o continuar.
Y veo que ambos
se abrazan, porque debo
parar al miedo y
continuar la vida.
Callar los pensamientos y
sacar la parte creativa.

Y es que yo soy todo(s)
 los elementos:
el aire que late y aviva la llama
de fuego, que harde, que quema la
tierra, estable, tranquila, que busca
el agua que da la vida.

27 de enero de 2018

In Love with You

One week ago, while you were drunk and we were walking to your place, late, in the cold street, stepping on the snow. A week ago, while you were looking at me, stoned, I'm not sure anymore if it was because of the alcohol effects or because you, transparent, were showing me your feelings of admiration and love towards me.
That day, that night, you asked me if everything was well in relation to us.

" I don't understand" I said, confused. "It's all good. Don't you think everything is alright?"

You said yes, and something else. Then we met your mother the next day.

Now I'm here, asking to myself the same question you asked me. I feel I am a step behind. Maybe you are way more sensitive than I am. There is no Maybe. I'm sure you are.

"Is there something wrong in between us?" It is not the same question you asked me. You see, this is how we look upon things: you say "well", I say "wrong". I'm always stucking myself into negative stuff. 

But you... Oh... You.

You are The Purest thing. And I miss you so fucking much I can barely hold my tears.
I miss your smiley face and your voice. Your warm hugs and sweet kisses.

Can you see in my eyes the same feeling I see in yours? Because I didn't even know myself I was this In Love With You.

Everything you say is right. You will think "Nah" and if my Ego was there, it will probably think and say "Nah" too.

But you... you just go through it. You've just gone through everything on/ about me.
So naturally. So easily.

I'm scared. I'm terrified that you would just disappear.  That all of this will, all of a sudden, Stop. End. 

Maybe you deserve better. Maybe I didn't deserve so much unconditional kindness, help and love. Maybe I didn't work hard enough. Maybe is too late. Can I make it up for you?

Why is my mind tormenting me?


I wish tonight was that one Saturday night, when I texted you, called you, asked you where you are. Then I would dare to show how much I like you, invite you home and hold your arm. 
I wish tonight you were staying over one more time, so I could hug you and kiss you and tell you how amazing you are, how beautiful you are.
God, I wish there were more words to describe this feeling. It's never been so deep and real before. 

I admire you.  I adore you.  I love you.




You are the brightest Light.

Please come back, I feel lonely in the silent dark.

5 de mayo de 2015

Old philosophical thoughts from my notebook || Antiguos pensamientos filosóficos de mi cuaderno

I believe that The Man is the most unlucky being of the planet. That considering the luck exist. That is like this from the moment He got the ability of reason, to think. We could say, then, since forever.
Why? Would you ask. Because he is condemned to give a reason to everything. To live without understand what surrounds Him it provokes so much angst to him, so much pain, that before assume and confront it, he will try to find any possible answer, imaginary and invented but real in his mind before than suffer. They don't realize that is ignorance. Or well said, to deny to live a part of the life: the non-sense. The contradiction. The feelings.

But how are you going to deny to yourself to live something you are already living? How are you going to Not reject when you are already rejecting? You can't get rid of the feelings because when you feel that you don't want to feel, you are already feeling. If we deny or we want to deny the existence of something is because that something already exists. And the more you want to deny it, the more it exists.

The most wretched people are always those who struggle the most to understand everything and chose something. They don't realize that when they choose they turn their back on something... and contradictions exist. To deny is to affirm.

We can only Do. To Think.

Nothing else matters: There is no right. There is no wrong. Things Are. They Exist.
If everything is clear, once to this point I want to ask you a question: why do you keep saying to me what do I have to do or what do I don't have to do with my feelings?

A "Have to / Must to " is a rule created for understand something. It is created for point out what is right or what is wrong. Didn't we agreed that is a moral basis for to follow a path and turn our backs on another one and that when we do it we reaffirm all this contradictory controversy?

The feelings exist. They can't be denied. They can't not exist. And I can't heed you because love exist, it's a contradiction, it's different for everybody and everybody live it how they know. And I don't know other thing than let it be. I don't know other thing than to not understand this non-sense, to live it just like it is and to suffer without be able to give it a definition. Knowing that I will never be able to give it one. Well, I will be able to give it one, but then I'll be another wretched who pretends to understand what it can't be understood.

It has to be accepted that Love  is like this, like life. It only exist. It only is. Everything else are excuses, lies.

And I only want to love. I only want to love him and cry. And laugh. And feel. I only want this to flow in me. Let it exists and feed my life. Although I know I will never possess it and I will always yearn it and desire it.

Let me do. Let me live.
Only I can do it. If not, who would I be?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Creo que el Hombre es el ser con más mala suerte del planeta. Eso considerando que la suerte existe. Ésto es así desde el momento en que éste tuvo la capacidad de pensar, razonar. Podríamos decir, entonces, que desde siempre ¿Por qué? os preguntaréis. Porque está condenado a razonar todo. Vivir sin entender lo que le rodea le provoca tal angustia, tanto dolor, que antes que asumirlo y afrontarlo intentará buscar cualquier respuesta posible, imaginaria e inventada pero real en sus mentes antes que sufrir. No se dan cuenta que eso es ignorancia. O mejor dicho, negarse a vivir una parte de la vida: el sinsentido. La contradicción. Los sentimientos.

Pero, ¿Cómo vas a negarte a vivir algo que ya estás viviendo? ¿Cómo vas a No rechazar cuando ya estás rechazando?
No puedes deshacerte de los sentimientos porque cuando sientes que no quieres sentir, ya estás sintiendo. Si negamos o queremos negar la existencia de algo es porque ese algo ya existe. Y cuanto más quieras negarlo, más existente será-

Los más desdichados son siempre aquellos que más se esfuerzan en entenderlo todo y decantarse por algo. No se dan cuenta que al decantarse le están dando la espalda a algo... y las contradicciones existen. Negarlo es afirmarlo.

Sólo podemos Hacer. Pensar.

Todo lo demás no importa: no hay bien. No hay mal. Las cosas Son. Existen.
Si todo esto ha quedado claro, llegados a este punto quiero hacer una pregunta: ¿por qué seguís diciéndome lo que debo o no debo hacer con mis sentimientos?

Un "deber" es una norma creada para entender algo. Creado para señalar lo que está bien o lo que está mal. ¿No quedamos en que eso es una base moral para seguir un camino y darle la espalda a otro y que, al hacer eso, reafirmamos toda esta contradictoria controversia?

Los sentimientos existen. No pueden negarse. No pueden no existir. Y yo no puedo haceros caso porque el amor existe, es una contradicción, es diferente para todos y cada uno lo vive como sabe. Y yo no sé otra cosa que dejar Ser. No sé hacer otra cosa que no entender este sin sentido, vivirlo como tal y sufrir sin poder darle una definición. Sabiendo que jamás se la podré dar. Bueno, podré dársela, pero eso me hará otra desdichada que pretende entender lo que no se puede entender.

Hay que aceptar que el Amor es así, como la vida. Sólo existe, Sólo es. Todo lo demás son excusas, mentiras.

Y yo sólo quiero amar. Sólo quiero amarle y llorar. Y reír. Y sentir. Sólo quiero que eso fluya en mi. Que exista y alimente mi vida. Aunque sepa que nunca vaya a poseerlo y siempre lo anhele y lo desee.

Dejadme hacer. Dejadme vivir.
Sólo yo puedo. Sino, ¿quién sería yo?

1 de abril de 2015

Energy

I feel it filling me.

Slowly.

Boom.

Boom.

It's coming. It's growing.

Faster.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

My feet start rocking.
My knees hold the rhythm and spread it to my hips which moves in Tic Tac's, like a pendulum.

My stomach feels the  strength, my heart is beating.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Faster.


My shoulders follow the hips.
The electricity keeps my moving.

Non Stop.
More and more.

The energy flows towards my body.
Explodes in my mind.

I can't think, no more.

Feel it deeply, Follow it. Melt with it.
Until it explode.

Boom Boom Boom...
Boom Boom Boom...
Boom Boom Boom...