Stone Wall

Stoic faces staring back
On the side of a mountain wall,
Like Jesus' face, clearly showing
Upon the ancient shroud of Turin

Frowning faces staring back, joking,
Pensive, judging, hunting for cracks;
Maybe your polished exterior is flawed,
Maybe that's why they stare at you in awe,
And why they'll never look away
Watching through you throughout the days,

Until slowly, suddenly you look, understand
That they're only the imaginings of a sad man,
Just scars on a surface of stone and sand.

Desert winds

Travelling for days, I still can't conceive my goal;
Desert sands press their way through my soul,
Outer forces veer me off track.
I try to move forward, but only go back.
If I drop my foot, it sifts
-------------------------through the
---------------------------------------ground,
If I push with my body, winds just turn me around.

I force my way through putrid weather,
My hands in front of me, together,
And the only sound I hear is wind
Blazing its shrill tune through my head
As if I were a seashell and it a kid,
Hearing music through something long dead.

As millions of specks, yellow, red, black, gold,
Hack through the air, I start to erode.
Each memory takes a small part of me,
Grinding me down, never setting me free,
Until I'm not lost, yet not wanting to be found,
Now I'm but a piece of dust, slowly sinking to the ground.

Always look on the bright side of life!

Ribcage

Badump! Badump! Badump!

A little red bird screams its silent song.
Someone once took great care in sheltering it from the outside world,
Building a cage of bone, and twine, and gold,
Quite austere, but wonderful for a stranger to behold,

Yet the bird shrieks all day long,
Pressing its neck through gilded bars, so far as to dig into its flesh;
There's food for ages, but you can see its ribs through its chest.

It hasn't thought of resting its hoarse voice,
Of accepting its prison temporarily, as if it had a choice,
And letting its wounds heal, gathering up strength,
To then wreck its odious home with a thousand pecks.

A walk

Today, I decided to take advantage of my university's geographical location and i headed to the beach after class this morning. When I reached the sand, I took off my shoes and socks, and felt the grains between my toes, not really silky smooth but with little rocks and imperfections. So I walked diagonally to the seashore, and proceeded to stroll between the raging waves and the wall of sand that had been created by erosion recently, because it hadn't been there in the summer; maybe it's a seasonal thing.
The sights were perfect. On one side, the city, on the other, waves so big they could engulf you if you dove in. The water was white and turbulent, frothing with foam, and the wind pulled my shoelaces and hair to the side, but I just let it sway... One of my baggy sweater's sleeves hung low, past my dangling hand, and the other was pulled up, as I held my notebooks and ipod, which connected back to my head. The music and sound of beach waves created the perfect high, and the water caressed my toes. I stopped to roll up my pant legs, to get in a little deeper, and now it felt like I was in the water with the big waves.
I followed the shoreline until I got to the moors, which are made of big rocks with asphalt and gravel on top; I jumped the fence and walked down one, as painful as stepping on pebbles is barefoot. On my side, a man had caught a huge fish, he screamed at a partner in another moor, then smiled and said hello. I went to the edge, standing as far as I could. Looking down, the rocks on the edge look like dice that have been tossed mercilessly by a cruel god. If you stare into the horizon, it's like looking into every single of the places you've lived... In my case, I imagined the beaches of Latakya in Syria, and the fishing club in Buenos Aires that my brother once was a part of. Even if the places aren't really in the direction you're staring at, looking into the sea feels like you're looking straight at your origins. Columbus is pointing that way, though, into the Mediterranean. I wonder why that is.
The waves crashed upon the dice and occasionally a light spray of saltwater would land on my face and body. It was rhythmical. The sea is so soothing, even when it's rough. In the sky, clouds danced this way and that, but the sun kept on shining. I made my way into the city, only looking back to put on my sneakers and take off my sweater.

Si quieres un amigo, ¡Domestícame!
- ¿Qué hay que hacer? -- dijo el principito.
-- Hay que ser paciente-- respondio el zorro--. Te sentarás al principio un poco lejos de mí, así, en la hierba. Te miraré de reojo y no dirás nada. La palabra es fuente de malentendidos. Pero cada dia, podrás sentarte un poquito más cerca...

Baby, it's a Wild World