I AM POEM

I AM POEM

(pendiente de numerosas correcciones y modificaciones)

I am who I am:

I danced with the androgynous songs of the obsidian souls,

I froze on the moonlight shadow with lost shots,

I flourished once in Bolton’s garden,

I cried for help from Liverpool, but nobody did come

I smiled at moaning people in February 1959,

I beat in three northern princesses hearts,

I was a sad father on the phone, crying,

I played the piano with fairy pianist hands,

I travelled blind around Italy,

I arrived to Zanzibar to spread my tender,

I broke fragile dreams on boulevards,

I was a rolling stone of the melancholic carpenter.

I killed the lifeless Michael Corleone,

I perfume shouts with cold rosebuds

I filled irate beasts with hatred,

I lived with the weary Paul, the anchorite,

I prayed on the cemetery and empire of Becquer

I painted white the room of Dickinson in the night,

I shone on maximum level in grotesque streets,

I wandered during a hundred years in Macondo,

I dried the tears of Emma with slumber,

I sang dirges to a dreary hunchback in Paris,

I estimated the lost count of my age with prime numbers

I created some savage conditions for fun,

I sat on the chair and slept on the bed of ripped oils.

I am the old animal without pack,

I am the panther in the lush jungle,

I am the last words of swans,

I am the grief-stricken widow behind the window,

I am, over the old books on the shelf, the dust,

I am the old saying about bad friends,

I am, surrounded by doves, the madman,

I am the catharsis of ancient heroes,

I am philosophy and thinking so far,

I am the mother of poetry,

I am your fears and wishes dressed in black,

I am your dreams and the sea of your sorrow,

I am the old age on your wrinkled map,

I am the voice of your doubts,

I am the voyeur of you, Jack.

I am the old child toys in a drawer,

I am your verses in the dark,

I am your soliloquies,

I am your poor cold silences,

I whisper through your open doors,

I am the shadows in crowded streets,

I am a 3 a.m. airport,

I am a mute telephone,

I am what I desire to be.

I am the inveterate obscurity.

I am the moon,

I am the Earth, and also the sun

I am the jails of your prisons

I am the heart of so many people…

I am your white cradle and your black coffin,

I am your own existence,

I am everything of nothing,

I am your glad birth and your death, so sad

I am the brother of conceited God

I am the solitude over itself.

I am who I am:

I am this pure and sheer I, limpid and light

I am the entire world of your eyes when shut

Cos solitude is the dream of the human being’s eyes.