Fiesta* Inside the trauma – K.B

(* »Fiesta » means « Party » in spanish.)

 

                                                                  Fiesta Inside the trauma

 

 

The cells
Are making
Love
Under
The layers
Of skin.

I’ve seen
It all,

Crazy assholes,
Crazy horses too.

The andalusian
Sand
Is a dance.

Don Juan
Is serving
The liquor
After the shit
Of the day,

I’m waiting
For my daily fix
Of food
In the middle
Of nowhere.

Here comes my song :

 » The violence
They inflict
Is greater.

Slums
And ghettos,
Rare joys,
Howling
Nature,

Hostile
Environment.

But you
See,
In this fine
Morning,

There’s a
Music
To the storm.

I guess
They won’t
Like it,

Woke up
In the middle
Of the night,

The window
Was open.

The lips
Were already
Fading,

As I was
Wandering
In lone
Splendor.

The fire
Of creation
Left me
Consumed
With no hope
Of Remission.

Trauma,
The bars,
The cell,

Good & Evil
At the same
Place ;

Hustlers
Put to chains;

Well-fare
Parasites;

Pimps;

Old muttering
People;

But you see,
You gotta see
The flower
In…that.

My memory
Is blurred,

I’m numb.

You gotta
See the good.

It seems like
Hell,

The air’s not
Clean
As I’m witnessing,

Full of smoke
And urine,
Charged
With nicotine.

The little
Sublime
That
Survives
Are a few written
Lines

Coz’,

There’s no mercy,
Unless you go
To Macy’s
To trace
The embroidered
Lace on fair skins
Down in indonesian
Fantasies,

Called factories.

You gotta
See the good,

The little
Sublime
That survives.

Woke up
In the middle
Of the night,

The air
Was charged,

Stormy weather
And nicotine.

You gotta
See the good,
The little
Sublime
That survives.

Michelangelo
Used to hang
On ladders
To paint
The themes
Of his time
With « Maestria »,

Hear the voices
Rising in
Joyous agony.

Somehow,
Beauty
Has a filter
That you
Can change
On Instagram.

Hear the voices
Rising,
The dimness
Grows in the
Eyes
With age
And misery.

Bread is
Not given,
Nor is health,
Nor is life
A game,
Pleasant
And sweet.

I lost it
Once,
I totally
Lost it twice,
I may earn
It the third
time.

It’s like
A song…

But,

I see
A fire
On the mountain.

Metropolis
Tries to show
Me down,

It’s working
Pretty
Well.

Gotta think
About the next
Meal,

Hasta la vista,

Fiesta in the trauma.  »

 
K.B

 
All rights reserved. 2018.

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