I'm looking for you in the woods tonight, I'm looking Looking for you in my flashlight, I'm searching From in the high or down the ocean And I face myself in reason Gain the wolf Gain the wolf
Conjure me as a child Slipping down a webside Stretch up I cannot reach him Jumping up they drag him from the water
I watch them march him into life I watch them take him from the pale Into the sky for your eagle eye The sun seeds a sickle and a scythe
Ridicule they won't allow Quench abuse and let love flower Rip the cage out of your chest Let the chaos rule the rest
Show without showing What you know without knowing Twigs snap eye / I catch no canoe only you and me Alone on the old tea hope sea
Dissolving who we are Call out for yesterdays destiny come We're on a foreign shore
It was your mark of falling I was the car still running And will you call and be assured for life And if you feel it you will fly The sun should have been with me
When I was set to fall in As I was set to fall in As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
As I was set to fall in
Photograph by Milza López. taken in Santiago, Chile. 2014.
Lyrics written by Grantley Marshall and Robert del Naja
Never, never again? Not on nights filled with quivering stars, or during dawn's maiden brightness or afternoons of sacrifice?
Or at the edge of a pale path that encircles the farmlands, or upon the rim of a trembling fountain, whitened by a shimmering moon?
Or beneath the forest's luxuriant, raveled tresses where, calling his name, I was overtaken by the night? Not in the grotto that returns the echo of my cry?
Oh no. To see him again, it would not matter where in heaven's deadwater or inside the boiling vortex, under serene moons or in bloodless fright!
To be with him... every springtime and winter, united in one anguished knot around his bloody neck!
I am very happy to present you a brand new book: A Journal Into Bipolar Disorder, which is my personal diary of living with this mental illness. The book contains reflections and personal notes of my experience through the "roller coaster" of Bipolar, like the one entitled "Differential Diagnosis" or "The Culminant Moment", and also has several exclusive poems such as "Mixed State", "Spiral" and "Episode", between many others. It has 29 brand new contents and 52 pages, and there is a spanish version too, called "Diario de una joven bipolar", wich is also available in Amazon. This is the First Kindle Edition and soon you will be able to buy the Paperback version, so you can enjoy it in the traditional way too. The book is FREE ond Kindle Unlimited!. I hope you find a lot of interesting bridges that connect you with this condition in this book, I am responding any question and will be soon telling you more about my experience and this brand new book.
Now is the turn of Dr. Maya Angelou. She is a well-known american writter, activist and singer, who died in 2014. She decided to show her respect and admiration for Michael sending a poem about his passing to be read in the Memorial that had place at Staples Center in 2009. It was a very emotional moment and today I divulgate this wonderful poem.
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing
Now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace
Sing our songs among the stars and and walk our dances across the face of the moon
In the instant we learn that Michael is gone we know nothing
No clocks can tell our time and no oceans can rush our tides
With the abrupt absence of our treasure
Though we our many, each of us is achingly alone
Piercingly alone
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him
He came to us from the Creator, trailing creativity in abundance
Despite the anguish of life he was sheathed in mother love and family love and survived and did not more than that
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style
We had him
Whether we knew who he was or did not know, he was our’s and we were his
We had him
Beautiful, delighting our eyes
He raked his hat slant over his brow and took a pose on his toes for all of us and we laughed and stomped our feet for him
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing
He gave us all he had been given
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana’s Blackstar Square, in Johannesburg, in Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama and Birmingham England, we are missing Michael Jackson
But we do know that we had him
And we are the world.
Michael Jackson in the early 80's. Credits to the Photographer.
This is a special post conmemorating the memory of Michael Jackson, who passed away suddenly at June 25 th in 2009. I will never forget that day and eventhough people say time cures everything and stuff, I still feel exactly the same thing. Everyday I still miss Michael, his smile, his strength to conquer the world and his dreams of peace and love remain so hard in my heart. So this week he will take over this blog and I'm posting a few poems about him, this first one was written the Concert Film Director Johnathan D. Jones, and I am adding also a video were he recites it. Thanks to the page UK LOVES MJ for divulgating this magnificent piece of art.
IDOL LOST
There I was, sitting alone atop the staircase, a waterfall of tears.
My mind zombie like, as I could not fathom what my lens had just captured.
He was beautiful - an Angel on stage - the voice of perfection.
While I withdrew from my family and the world,
I opened my eyes to imagine a genius that took me away.
Through song, through dance, with a soft tone, and a welcoming spirit,
He was me – I shadowed his life.
Certain similarities made me believe I was better than the greatest.
One that stole my soul, replaced, the figure that didn’t live in my house.
Every step precise - every move sensational –
As a kid we all believe in magic.
This magician allowed me to never grow up.
Our talents were not the same. But I studied him.
Added much of the good in him to help make me better.
He was rhythm.
Far beyond the dance I saw him change the world
As a professional child he was on the back end of the chitterling circuit.
A few years removed from colored entrances, and yet love leapt from his lips.
Cultures and races the world over sang in chorus.
He was BAD!
The 1, The only 1,
The 1 human being that I truly saw how Great God is through his warmth
I could not afford what many had the fortune to buy, and see, but I saw him-
I saw him in my dreams.
He stood just behind my eyelids.
I stood in front of mirrors for hours and hours -
Trying to look-like him - I wanted to talk like him,
For a moment I wanted to be him.
Never has anyone captured me completely.
Inspired is'nt justice - empowered by his ascend
No Prince could compare to The King’s gifts.
Entertained family, during holidays with fully imitated shows.
For just those moments I would really become him.
I grew, my gifts came in slightly different packaging, but I stole some of his wrapping.
I absorbed his will and determination for perfection to consume everything I did.
I watched, I studied, I idolized.
When he went into orbit and walked the moon, I simply sobbed.
Sat on the steps so amazed that all I could do was cry.
Imperfection is human,
So there he was, so high above that missiles had to be made up to reach him.
But he wore a glove to protect himself from the disease of hatred, and misunderstanding.
I stored all the good he shared.
Never punished him for falling.
Like a toddler who brings us so much joy, I just wanted to help him up -
Just to see him walk again
To a rich man, eating from trash is strange.
He reached a stage never, imagined, by anyone else, so to a closed minded few -That was strange.
A face -A nose -A color –
As insignificant, as a bag, holding a gift that a child has always wanted.
He was punished.
Backs turned, stories told, while people ran off with the loot.
Not I - I, idolized him.
I’d wished to talk to him.
I dreamed of looking through rare videos, and pictures, together -
So stored in my heart that one day I would open my eyes to see my dream.
But as sudden as a blink, I stood in my room as he was returned to God.
My heart ached. My one dream to share time with him, had been swept away,
or so I thought
As magical as the first moment I saw him -
It was as if he left me with a gift.
Though hard, and not the way I wanted, I had my wish.
As he laid surrounded in gold, and song -
I sat with him as rare pictures appeared across the stage
The printed version of "Heaven" is now on sale at Createspace and Amazon!! The paperback is available for you to order while the Kindle version is totally FREE just for limited time, so don't miss the chance of having your favourite poems printed for you to read anywhere or to give others as a very emotional gift. More exciting news are coming as "Aurora and Asphyxia" has been fully translated to English, so very soon you will be able to download your FREE copy too!! By now I give you also this new poster that I hope you enjoy and share, made with a small extract of the book "Heaven".
Don't forget to follow the Pinterest account of the blog in order to get more promotional poster you can share in social networks or even Print and give as a card.
¿Do you really love quotes? As "Heaven" is Now FREE for Kindle in Amazon, I keep on composing original pictures with some extracts from the book, so you can enjoy and share with your friends. This time I've chosen some verses from the poem "Presage", wich is contained in the first chapter called "First Abyss". Hope you like it!!
Remember watch more of this compositions of visual poetry at the new Pinterest. Thanks!!
"Heaven" is my most recent work, and has attached my soul and very own passion for poetry and creating worlds through words.
This very complete book has been made in three parts that together present a story in poems about the travel to Heaven, where this author discovered the darkness, the pain and the light to restart a brand new life. Verses start soft and slow with First Abyss, and get rhythmic, atypical and disturbing in Air Collection, to end in the grand denouement, where the poetry starts to find a way out in the middle of despair, and opens the sky with the force of the words in the final segment called The Train.
Don't miss this unforgettable piece of Literature for your collection of ebooks, a high quality text that will surely sound with echo in your head and heart.
Pre-order your copy now in Amazon, only for US$2.99 1.99 !! and before you imagine this book will certainly catch your eyes in a spiral of emotions.
I guess that phrase defines most of my entire life, I think I have spent structuring my very own Workshop were Loneliness is being built and modeled, gets defined with hands and attitudes, gets sculpted and notched with the thoughts, gets cultivated from iced seeds and gets water from the frost, gets painted in every picture and every peace of lost paper. Loneliness has been under-rated socially, like there is something wrong with it, like it lacks from beauty the hermit's heart that has built catapults to throw away his pain like dusty rocks over the horizon. The world is more lonely than ever. The screens embrace us and draw sounds that make us believe in distant ghosts.
Photograph by Milza López, taken in Santiago, Chile. Copyright 2014.
"I know still isn't over, but my inner duel is like you never arrived to my life. I am right here like the lonely bird that bites its own wings, get wet in the nest under the rain, in the stem under the canopy that has lost its foliage"
That's how begins my prose called "Workshop of Loneliness". I would love to translate from spanish and publish for free in Amazon, but I'm not sure if anyone would ever read it.
Soon, I am shooting Heaven, wich is my book of dark poems in Amazon. You can pre-order this book here.
Nice weekend for all these silent readers, and comment if you have something to say!
In these days I feel as if I was traveling, even when physically I am not, I surf with my soul separated. Is not that I believe in this soul thing, but is a kind of way to speak about what we have inside.
I dreamed about him, we were traveling in the very same train, and it was delicately decorated in vintage style, it was like traveling to past.
Obviously there was no happy ending then, everything went confused even though the train was traveling in a straight line, everything was overwhelming surely because I found him, and there was no real me, but an antique version of myself, like the train.
I was remembering everything when I woke up, I remembered in a so living way that I thought I didn't need to write it. When I closed my eyes again the dreams walked away in the middle of the smoke, opening the way once again to chaos and confusion of that place where we are and we are not.
The traveling partners that we are and not without even talk, so many years after the focused and reiterated habit. So much has happened in black and white from our arrogant portraits of our unlimited youth.
Now, no train is going to drive us to past, no platform will recieve our bodies, no car is the past that in some other lives we swore to lose, no treasure will go to float after the fall of our ship.
It is very complicated not knowing where to go. Even you try and try, looking and analyzing internal and external things, you can't find the compass to show you a destiny, a trace to go, a spark to follow. Now I only see confusing shadows in the veil of the horizon.
Then, I see the ones that feel so sure, the ones that row with strength, with the certainity they will find their destiny, driving their boats with direct answers and the head up roughing out a direction. I will never find a way to thank to those ones that are still firm in my boat, even knowing that I don't no where I go, that I am completely lost and would be able to dry myself along the ocea before finding a way out.
I walk in circles following the clouds, their way doesn't make any sense, just like mine. I tread my very own footprints and I forgot how to stop.
Photo taken by Milza López. Copyright 2014.
It is complicated, so complicated, I told him. It's complicated, and he knows it. I have to open the door for him and I don't where I left my keys, I forgot my own secret keys and there is no trace in my memory about the code of honor.
I would like to travel in the same ship you do, but I honestly don't know where to go.
