sight

Give the fear back
to the sun

give the fear back to the man,
to the earth and to the god,
give the fear back
to the teacher
to the doctor
and the shrink

back to whom put it in you.
to the father, to the mother
and the door you could not open,
and the house of the suicide
and the dog
foaming at the mouth

hold nobody´s hand when walking,
love no one and hate nobody.

be alone.

be alone through life and death
and fear nothing
give the fear back to your blood,
give the fear back to your mind,
to the man who gave it to you
long ago

give the fear back to the book
to the knowledge in the book
which is nothing,
to the temple and the truth
which is a lie, give the fear
back,
and remain empty,
empty of thought or expectation,
empty of guilt and of redemption,
turn away from shades of angels
and be alone,
be alone until the wind
that comes out of the great sea
may for nothingness mistake you

and upon its currents take you
to the End

give your fear away forever
today

A step this side of the light

When you are on dialysis you live a double life. You are like a bat who goes flying around for a while and then you return to the dark quiet cave where your blood is recycled, away from the eyes of those who know you. It is like keeping a secret. Some people regard you as a mysterious entity, not quiet human, because you spend a lot of time hooked to a machine in order to survive, and that makes you a little subterranean: a little subaquatic, rather. Those on dialysis are like a school of fish, emerging into the light after a stay in the cold chill water at bottom of the sea.
When I lay in the metal bed with the tubes driving the blood slowly into and out of my veins through long needles, the deep, monotonous gargling sound of the machine cleansing the blood in my ears, I fall into a sort of trance. My mind wanders. It frees itself from the flesh, somehow, and travels places and sees things from the past, and sometimes from the future. People like to think of disease as a physical state, yet it is largely a journey of the mind, the spirit. At all times the mind dances on the tight rope and senses the possibility of death. It is not impossible to perceive, as if out of the corner of one´s eye, flowing of spectres nearby.
The supernatural is involved in everything that happens to a person. We refuse to admit it, for the sake of solidity in life, for the sake of sanity, but then there are those moments when a fleeting shadow crosses before our eyes and leaves us trembling with an ,undefinable sadness, a fear, because we have been tapped on the shoulder by a cold hand, the hand of someone no longer in the physical world, or when we have dream which cannot be explained by any form of reasoning.For some weeks before I was diagnosed witn end stage kidney failure, I had a reocurring dream, in which I saw a large, very healthy looking vampire bat sucking the blood from a cow with a sort of dumb relish. Its fur had an amazing copper lustre. I know now that the beast was a symbol for the machine which would soon be ingesting and regurgitating my altered blood, my treacherous blood.

DYALISIS

ON THE CHILL METAL BED I CAN MOVE THROUGH SPACE LIKE A MIND IN A COFFIN

I STRETCH OUT MY ARM FOR THE NEEDLE´S BITE AND A DARK WINDY CLOUD
COVERS MY EYES AND SHUTS OUT REALITY

AND I AM A STRANGE WANDERER TREADING ALONG THE BARREN BANKS OF A DARK RIVER

IN THE LAND OF SPIRITS
IN THE LAND OF SPIRITS

THE TWO THIN LINES OF MOVING BLOOD LEAVE MY VEINS LIKE FUGITIVES
LIKE LOVE LEAVING THE CHEST COLD AND HOLLOW
LIKE TWO CHILDREN WHO WILL BE LOST IN THE FOREST

THE TORPOR OVERCOMES ME. AM I A DROWNING MAN UNDER WATER?
I PRAY AND SWALLOW WATER I AM THE DROWNING ANGEL
HAVE I OFFENDED THEE? I AM BEING PULLED TO THE CHILL BOTTOM
BY MY BEAUTIFUL LONG HAIR ENTANGLED IN THE WEEDS
I AM A WOMAN SUDDENLY A CHILD SUDDENLY

THE SKY IS TEEMING WITH FLAMING SYMBOLS
THE BURNING ALEPH SPINNING MADLY

THERE IS A KISS LEFT ON MY LIPS
A KISS AS COLD AS ICE

THE RYTHM OF MY HEART SLOWS DOWN TO A SYNCOPATED WHISPER

I AM HERE THERE ARE DARK HILLS IN THE DISTANCE
NO ONE LIVES IN MY HEAD ANYMORE
I FEEL ONLY THE BLOOD LEAVING AND RETURNING

THE DARK WING BRUSHES MY EAGER LIPS, BUT IT DOES NOT DESCEND

IT FLIES AWAY FOR NOW, THIS TIME...

DAY

Indifferent to all this
which is happening inside me: the treason
by my own blood, the death that is approaching more or less slowly,
the going away of all that which once seemed permanent,
the rain is stubbornly falling
upon the dark green fields full of boredom.
In a season that can´t be defined clearly, a snowless winter,
an excessively cold, dark spring,
the world is full of faces without expression,
save for weariness, save for the grimace of hate-
Without vigour, I hang any old coat on my shoulders
and go out to the street, as if to do something new.
That is a lie. The day will conclude
with nothing having changed at all. The world
is no longer capable of imagining.

Too often...

Hate has eyes
and walks down the street
searching for someone to look at.
Who shall tell hate
that with its eyes full of hate
it is impossible to see anything as it really is?

surrender

Too frequently now
I become weary of the gods
exhausted from their endlessness,
their cosmic vendettas
and childish jealousy.
I wish not to perceive
any divinity at all in what I see:
only the form, the thing contained
within itself alone, the soulless thing,
hue and shape only,
and to rest my head in my lonely hand,
in my hand which is just human and lonely,
unheld by everything which is not simply palpable.
The world may be beautiful
without the turbulence of the gods.
I have given them far too much import
and now, to quiet them, I wish only to forget them.

asturias, land of legends.Photos from internet,

Asturias, Northern Spain. Picture from internet

SOME VIGNETTES FROM OSHIDORI, AND SOME SATYRICAL VAMPIRE WATERCOLOURS

THE ONE WHO WATCHES ME

CHANGE

THE WITCHES