domingo, 25 de septiembre de 2022

 





ENVY


We will hardly admit

we ride the envy train.


Social media: True temple of God Envy

for worship, become a master of it

to recruit the naive.


We post our trips and relationships,

 what we are about to eat,

 the clothes we can buy or the bodies we build,

 we post our favorites jokes and phrases,

 the books we read, 

social -political critic, 

the music we hear, 

the concerts we assist,

 the movies we watch, 

the medals we win… 


What´s the aim of all these?

To share the joy? To spread wisdom?

To enlighten the ignorant? 

The secret aim is 

to harvest envy of all those who read.


Please reconsider,

what do you enjoy the most?

The view you hardly contemplate 

after taking the shot to post it…

The food on your table 

you gobble up

or the comments of all the others?

the person who appears in the photo

whom you hardly listen and care for

or the fact you are with “someone” 

parading in front of all the lonely?


The book that shows how smart you are

but you wont read or apply in real life.

The music or the movie depicting

how cool your taste manifests and thrives,

while you are attending your cellphone meanwhile

and later you cannot even remember what was what…

The years of marriage, complaining, complaining….

or the triumph over the sad divorces and singles,

the children you have while others could not

who you don´t play with or share a nice meal

without scolding or judging or suffering it.



You earn your money to get my envy

you have a boyfriend to make me envious

you have 5 dogs to feel superior

you chase the fun to win my sighs at home

you post your phrases to show you know better

and the best memes to be the first to post!


A race, a delirium

to feed from envy

a life starving while you have 

“likes-full” belly,

you go to the beach to have my envy

you climb the mountain to harvest envy

you get indebted to show off at the party

you waste your days craving envious faces

and comments of wanting

and relief for the few minutes 

you don´t feel envy.


Marisol Achirica 

2022

 




When I say I love you

When I say I love you
I may be feeling strongly
and surely I ́m excited
you are fulfilling all my wishes...

For that, I ́m grateful!
my heart is laughing,
girl with a candy,
kissed and loved abundantly.

The grown up woman will speak now:

When I say I love you
I ́m making a vow
to make you feel important to me
every day, loved and cherished, valued.
I ́m seeing myself smiling at you in the mornings and kissing you to sleep
looking deep into your eyes
thanking you for another day you live.

When I say I love you
I mean I will bring you teas, 
medicines and kleenex 
every time you feel poorly or you are frankly sick.

I ́ll stroke your head sweetly
I ́ll be tired with a smiling face
I won ́t complain
I ́ll kiss your hands saying loving words 
I ́ll sing for you to heal.

When I say I love you, its a verb to be acted:

It means I will cook for you and set your table,
learn the recipe you like and mind ,as if it is me,
if you are hungry or in thirst.

When I say I love you
I mean I ́ll let you sleep
all you need
and I ́ll be happy if you take vacations,
 even from me.

It means I ́ll try to my best
to overcome my anger, my stress
to the point to be polite and kind to you 
even if I curse the world.

But of course it also means
I ́ll apologize
for every time my pain-body wins
and brings you hurt and sorrow.
I ́ll put our love above me
and try to bite my tongue
before blaming you for my discomfort.

When I say I love you
I know I ́m still far away from really loving you
but I ́m also thanking you for inspiring me so sweetly 
to be my very best.
I´m thanking you
for  wanting to be my love guinea pig,
to be my teacher of forgiveness
and patience, of letting go and blindness
to all your little quirks that annoy my ego
but make you so adorable to me.

When I say I love you
I mean I want to learn to serve you
 in better and worse
so you can develop! develop!
and reach your most authentic self! 
And honestly, stop calling it love
 when I only care to serve myself!

Marisol Achirica sept, 2022

martes, 9 de noviembre de 2021

Nostalgia de un abrazo

 


Ya llegó el invierno.

Tú no estás.

Sólo esta tristeza mensajera


confirma el espacio


de tu posibilidad.




De la nostalgia de un abrazo


que falta cada mañana


y cada noche


brota el manantial


de esta identidad

 

que ahora se disuelve 


ante mi conciencia-ojos:


Ya no soy “tú no estás”.




Y permito que la conciencia


me lleve 


por la oscuridad hibernal


a este desconocido espacio


donde resuena pacíficamente:


“¿Quién soy yo?”

miércoles, 26 de mayo de 2021

EXPECTATIONS

 EXPECTATIONS



Prison of the soul,


lack of fulfillment in your life.


The beggars hand,


your wound…


A pact with death,


wax in your ears,


eyes blindfolded,


starving body.


The witness murdered,


unplugging life,


love chains…

                    not love: CHAINS!


Suffering pattern,


commet string,


Hating! Despising! Negating LIFE!



Marisol AU 2021

lunes, 7 de septiembre de 2020

DESPERTAR 1

How and why the coronavirus pandemic has changed our nighttime dreams



¡Qué sueño más extraño!

Sin espabilarme todavía del todo,

sigo en el limbo de lo soñado,

soñador(a) y sueño fusionados.



Tod@s éramos “UNOS”,

así como el primer número, “1s”

y juntos o separados,

éramos sumados y restados,

pasados de una ecuación a otra,

borrados, manipulados.


Luego un monstruo dentado,

multipatas, multigarras,

nos iba mutilando.


¿Nuestros gritos eras mudos?

¿O es que todos eran sordos?


En la pantalla sólo se veía:

“+1” ó “-1”,

no decía: “Paco”,

no se leía “María”,

nunca quedó escrito: “Agonía”.


Por algún milagro,

ciertamente oscuro,

al final de la hoja de cálculo,

cuyo título era “Vida”,

siempre había un superavit,

pero en casa faltaba mi hija,

en la tuya, golpeada, moría tu tía,

y por la noche, hombres,

en la segunda mitad de la vida,

completaban filas suicidas.

My Missing Children

My Missing Children

sept. 3rd, 2020.

Marisol Achirica.


Here is her bed

here is her doll

Where are her tears?

Can´t feel her joy!


¡My boy! My lungs cry

in a crucified gasp

when my heart replays

you shouting at a football game.


They say you are missing

They wrote you disappeared

and that puts you on a cloud,

laughing mischievously,

that´s just playing hide and seek

with me tickling you after…



No.


I wish you had disappeared

like a fairy, like Merlin,

taken by angels to be merry,

to be free.



NO.



I´m sunk in endless nightmares

of you being enslaved

of you being tortured

of you being lost in the dark

eaten slowly by beasts.


Sorrow by DanielSpr on DeviantArt



I ran to the power of the world,

so sure they would hurry with us

in search of you, to bring you home.

“A girl missing?!” They surely scream!

“A boy lost?!”  They surely shout!


All I found was numbers

a list of printed letters

You are not a name

You are not a date

YOU ARE MY FLESH!

MY BLOOD! MY BREATH!



You had a favorite dress

You made jokes and stroked my hair

you threw tantrums

about a cake

In our table, you had a place.

YOU KNEW MY NAME.


They say you are missing.

I say You are SCARED,

You are crying as We are

You are afraid and exhausted

to go to bed

You scream every second:

FIND ME DADDY!

MOTHER, I´M NOT DEAD!


You my love, my darling

you will never be the same.


Our souls cry in silence

“But…Nobody cares…??!!”

I sin from wishing you alive

I sin from wishing you were dead…



Nobody cares, in fact:

recently I learned

abducted children, abducted people,

part of the economy sustain.


(The BEAST of the economy

eats children

and women and friends)



“They” only wish, is my child,

Not theirs

“They”, too, are numbers,

Forgot they are soul and flesh.




Should I go to look for you

in every hole and every cave?

Should I stay home and wait for you

to welcome and kiss and embrace?

My daughter, my boy,

or yours, or theirs,

tortured, sold, terrorized!

We are all ONE PARENT

WE all lost our faith. 

lunes, 4 de julio de 2016



En este bosque boreal
olvido mis humanas penas,
mis ególatras desdichas,
mi pertenencia
mi no pertenencia…

Como un elfo de los bosques,
me distingo de quimeras,
¿Por qué he de buscarme humana
cuando me habitan los dioses?

Confundo a las sombras
y me deshago en rechazos.
¿Por qué he de buscarme humana
cuando me habitan los dioses?

Las dejo.
Los dejo.

                                                                  No queda minuta
                                                              de nuestros encuentros.

                                                                 Nada ha sucedido,
                                                            no nos hemos conocido,
                                                                  y no hay olvido
                                                             de lo que fue un sueño.


                                                                     Marisol Achirica U