Oso Para Vos

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Itaque… minas equitis primi,
in equo albo valido —
qui mihi sensum suspicionis,
cautionis, et parationis quasi perpetuum efficit,
accepere coepi, et
triste didici exspectare
implacabilia vastationes
belli et famis animi
ab equitante
equo rubro illatas,
et pestilentiam in
sacculis equi nigri.
Ironice, maxime timeo
quartum equitem furem
qui omni aurora advenit
in equa sua pallida et
ex somniis meis fractis
memorias amoris nostri nondum victos recuperat.

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Progredi igitur, transgressor. Progredi, seductor, omni dolo et fallacia plenus, inimicus virtutis, persecutor innocentium. Da locum, terribilissime, da locum, scelestissime, da locum Christo, in quo nihil operum tuorum invenisti: qui te spoliavit, qui regnum tuum destruxit, qui te victum vinxit, et bona tua spoliavit.

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Lassi, sudantes, anhelantes
Recumbimus et
cigarettam accendimus
Ut symbolice communicemus
celebrationem post intergalacticum
pugnam inter audacem fidem et
stultam adventuram.
Alae meae scissae incommode
inter dorsum meum se occultant
et tenuem stratum spumae polystyreni;
capitum tuum in pectore meo sepultum
et capillos tuos implicatos adhuc madidos ex
immersione nostra nocturna in Styge.
Quis divinavisset
caelum quod fecimus
silicem esse? … sic
cotidiano denotatum,
intermittentibus interruptionibus
luctarum surrealisticarum pro
superviventia: vincere aut perdere… omnia
aut nihil… uno die tempore.
Dum luna obscuratur, ultimum
visum quod video antequam obdormiscam
est bonsai aridum in
apertura domus nostrae ante bellum.
monitio temporis cum
adhuc audebamus profunde dormire;
diligenter involuti in somniis liberis, sicut maiores nostri.

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Exi igitur, transgressor. Exi, seductor, omni dolo et fallacia plenus, inimicus virtutis, persecutor innocentium.

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Paulisper
Clamen
Per oculos lacrimosos
Introeo et
Contemplor
Coelestem codificationem
Matricis.
In lucem
memoriae aeternae
Resonans
Sacram mantram
Mea disillusio clamatur
Cum illusione
labyrinthi caecorum
Et in stupore meo
Ultima verba
Incarnationis oblitae
Palus velut rosa nigra
Sub caelo persici coloris
-sine nubibus et quiete-
Merum pulsum cordis
ultra tempus;
Resonans levis pulsus eius
Dum frenetice curro
Per angiportus La Recoleta
Conans vitare guttas pluviae.
Et dum loqueris, ego manibus et genibus incumbo, epitaphium meum spectans: “Proxima generatio adest” Et prorsus inopinate, lacrima ex oculo sinistro in pectus fluit dum nostrum proprium momentum genericum in communi spatio et tempore capio.

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Da locum, terribilissime, da locum, scelestissime, da locum Christo, in quo nihil operum tuorum invenisti: qui te spoliavit, qui regnum tuum destruxit, qui te vicit.

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Singultus effrenati – Pluvia torrentis desertum reminiscens. Aspectus sine pudore refugium quaerens a ventis furentibus et rapidis tonitruis et fulminibus contra caelum purpureum, cinereum et aurantiacum – in proditione constipationis emotionalis vitae et affectionum masculinitatis.
Sylphus olim benignus –
Nunc titubans et anhelans
Nam spiritus – vocat et
Invitat eum ut sibi iungatur in
Pavana stulta, donec
quintessentia Matris
Archetypi faciat
Casum
A rima
Momentaneae indiscretionis
In fine temporis
Et gemitus appropinquant ad
Recuperationem superbiae et
Passionis sub specie
Procreationis poeticae.

🙏

Progredere igitur, transgressor. Egredere, seductor, plenus omni dolo et fallacia, inimicus virtutis, persecutor innocentium. Da locum, terribilissime, da locum, sceleste, da locum Christo, in quo nihil operum tuorum invenisti: qui te spoliavit, qui regnum tuum destruxit, qui te vinxit catenis, et vasa tua spoliavit.

Translation:

So… I have come to accept
the threat of the first horseman,
on his mighty white steed –
causing in me a seemingly
everlasting sense of suspicion,
caution and readiness, and
I have sadly learned to expect
the relentless ravages of
war and emotional famine
brought on by the
rider on the red horse,
and the pestilence in the
saddlebags of the black steed.
Ironically, I mostly dread
the thieving fourth horseman
who arrives each dawn
on his pale mare and
reclaims from my broken dreams
the yet unlived memories of our love.

🙏

Go forth, then, transgressor. Go forth, seducer, full of all deceit and fallacy, enemy of virtue, persecutor of the innocent. Give place, most terrible, give place, most wicked, give place to Christ, in whom you found nothing of your works: who robbed you, who destroyed your kingdom, who bound you defeated, and plundered your goods.

🙏

Weary, sweaty, panting
We sit back and
Light a cigarette
To symbolically communicate
The celebration after the intergalactic
Fight between bold faith and
Stupid adventuring.
My torn wings awkwardly
Hide between my back
And a thin layer of polystyrene foam;
Your head buried in my chest
And your tangled hair still wet from
Our nocturnal immersion in the Styx.
Who would have guessed
The sky we made
is flint? … thus
Denoted by the daily,
With intermittent interruptions
Of surrealistic struggles for
Survival: win or lose… all
Or nothing… one day at a time.
While the moon is eclipsed, the last
Sight I see before falling asleep
Is a withered bonsai in
The opening of our house before the war.
A reminder of the time when
We still dared to sleep deeply;
Carefully wrapped in free dreams, like our ancestors.

🙏

Come out then, transgressor. Come out, seducer, full of all deceit and fallacy, enemy of virtue, persecutor of the innocent.

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For a while
Secretly
Through your tearful eyes
I enter and
I behold
The celestial codification
of the Matrix.
Into the light
of eternal memory
Resonating
The sacred mantra
My disillusionment is shouted
With the illusion
of the labyrinth of the blind
And in my stupor
The last words
Of the forgotten incarnation
Marshness like a black rose
Under a peach-colored sky
-without clouds and quiet-
A mere heartbeat
beyond time;
Resonating its light beat
While frantically
I run
Through the alleys of La Recoleta
Trying to avoid the raindrops.
And while you speak, I am on my hands and knees, looking at my epitaph: “The next generation is here” And quite unexpectedly, a tear flows from my left eye into my bosom as I capture our own generic moment in common space and time.

🙏

Give place, most terrible, give place, most wicked, give place to Christ, in whom you found nothing of your works: who robbed you, who destroyed your kingdom, who defeated you

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Unbridled sobs – A torrential rain reminiscent of the desert A look without shame seeking refuge from the raging winds And rapid thunder and lightning Against the purple, gray and orange sky – in the betrayal of life’s emotional constipation and the affections of masculinity.
The once gracious Sylph –
Now staggering and panting
For the spirit – calls and
Invites him to join her in
a foolish Pavane, until
the quintessence of the Mother
Archetype makes
the Fall back
From the crack
Of momentary indiscretion
At the end of time
And groans draw near to
The recovery of pride and
Passion under the guise of
Poetic Procreation.

🙏

Go forth then, transgressor. Go forth, seducer, full of all deceit and fallacy, enemy of virtue, persecutor of the innocent. Give place, most terrible, give place, most wicked, give place to Christ, in whom you found nothing of your works: who robbed you, who destroyed your kingdom, who bound you in chains, and plundered your vessels.