Blasphemous images

Echoes of a prehistoric silence
Between your eyes and mine

Red ice, red waters
A waterfall of blood running

A wounded childish-
Memory :

Me at the door, you
(without watching back)

A hug that I wait like some people wait for the Messiah :

Spiritually empty
Soulless cramp

Godless eclipse
Armageddon, nuclear war

Every start have an end,
Religious nightmare : Hail the antichrist !



the bones

the skin

the body

the muscles

the pain of birth

the sadness of death

the happiness of love

the lust of sex

the career

the music

the free verse

the walk in the park

the spit

the phlegm

the sperm

the blood

we are only a soul

searching for his home

in the middle of the chaos

that life represents

Poetry is a-killing

That’s funny

when people think about poetry

they usually think about

pink letters dressed like rabbits

what they don’t know

is that poetry is a gun

every word is a shot to the head

every verse is a-killing

what the poet really wants

is the naked brains of his readers

served in a plate

to feast with them

in a canibal’s dinner


poetry is the sin eating your soul

poetry is the blood that runs between your fingers

poetry is the disfigured image in the mirror
poetry is the wake up in the middle of the night
with panic for your future
poetry is a broken heart’s harsh screaming
poetry is a slave feeding his master
poetry is the dark hole when you are drunk
poetry is death
poetry is about losing everything
poetry is a-killing

to Jazmin … (very old poetry II)

Blood roses your body

your words submerge the sea

(art of lover your essence)

poetry of sex




black candles nymph

the sky is on fire to your steps

impending madness

literal pornography.


(I wish to enter there

in your demon womb

melt in your bed

between your hair

photograph with poison your eyes).


Addict to acids

orgy of psychedelic spirits

(will we run naked in the forest of light?)


With your red hair

dyed with blood

undress in front of me

take off your silk


sacrifice to Poseidon a winter night :

waves will impregnate your body !

drowned maybe

in white fluid.


The mark was made

there is no come back

you incarnate poetry

between the wind your smile


you howl like a virgin of marble

and my crystal sperm

in your red hair

submerged maybe

in my poetry of distance.




(note : the original was in spanish,  this is an attempt of translation)