Are you?!

My family calls me Martin, my middle name,

Being named after your father isn’t always a great deal,

At work people tend to call me Carlitos,

That’s fine since they’re my friends,

And sounds a bit humorous since I’m far from being petit…

Some people call me warlock,

That doesn’t offend me…I’m a Wiccan,

“Harming no one, doing what I want”,

I thank Mother Nature for everything she gives me…

So if I don’t question you for believing in someone who you didn’t meet,

Why do you question me for believing in what I touch, breath and see?

Some people call me gay,

Well, I guess they may think that’s an insult,

But it isn’t… that’s who I am,

I love a man, to whom I consider my soul mate,

My better half, my partner in this journey that people call life,

Whose hand I will hold until death do us part…

Some people call me fat,

That’s something I can’t deny…I am, indeed, fat,

No matter if I wear striped or dark clothes, I look fat,

But I discovered that I’m kinda sexy the way I look,

And even attractive for both men and women,

Though, I’m not interested in the latter,

But the only thing that matters

Is that my hubby can’t keep his hands off me…

Others tend to call me bitch,

Just because I speak what’s on my mind,

I can’t help it; this is just the way I am,

“Straight talking, queer thinking”,

However, now I’m just a faithful slut,

Who lets loose, but only in a private show, ha!

There are even others, who call me pervert,

Just because I enjoy sex,

I must confess I verge on being sexaholic,

Sorry, but I can’t apologize for enjoying it as much as I do,

Actually, you should try, everybody should,

Your skin and will surely thank you greatly…

You can call me whatever you want,

I don’t give a damn…

I’m Wiccan, fat, gay, pervert, but overall a human,

Yeah, I’m a human being in a complete state of bliss…

I’m happy, but the question is: are you?

La nota

Y si le reventaran las entrañas,

Si rasgaras sus vísceras con tu desprecio,

Entonces habría tanta hiel en el suelo

Que todo se volvería un caldo espeso de inmundo aspecto,

Una piscina de penas y lamentos agusanados,

Donde mientras más se mueve la víctima,

Más se hunde, como si sus huesos fueran de plomo,

Como si sus cabellos fueran lampreas arrancándote los ojos…

Es como un sueño húmedo suicida,

En el que el único que llora es el que presiona la hoja afilada sobre su propia piel,

Esperando tener el suficiente oxigeno ondulando en sus venas desgarradas,

Antes de morir en un charco sanguinolento,

Que recuerda los abortos que ha visto fluir de entre sus piernas

Como fluyen sus rimas oscuras,

De niños envejecidos en la sombra de la soledad,

Y orgasmos entre sus manos ásperas…

Allí está la novia desnuda y sintiéndose ligera,

Con la vida escapándose de entre sus poros,

Allí está la mujer que un día pensó merecer feliz,

Y ahora yace magullada, con la piel llena de flores moradas

Creadas por la rotura de capilares cuando el fiero puño de su proxeneta cayó sobre ella,

Una y otra vez como gotas de lluvia sobre una hoja tierna,

Iracundo como el padre ebrio que llegaba a media noche,

Y la amordazaba con su mano hedionda de tabaco,

Y la usaba como funda cárnica para su falo de hierro…

La inocencia se pervirtió a los 7 años,

La vida se jodió a los 13 embarazada y abortando,

Le vida terminó a los 20 con su un cuchillo de cocina

Una botella de vodka rota y ensartada en el pecho de su amante,

Y ella escribiendo una lastimera nota de adiós:

“Nunca fui linda, pero muchos me desearon,

Nunca fui inocente, pero muchos se apiadaron de mi,

Nunca fui la niña que se trenzaba el cabello…

Yo me lavaba el semen de mi padre,

Su sudor de cerveza rancia…

Nunca fui la princesa que quise ser, ahora soy solo la puta borracha,

La asesina de un abusivo, la que ya no puede quedar preñada,

No espero que me entiendan, pero al menos no me odien tanto”…

“¿Mamá, por qué no me protegiste?,

¿Papá por qué no fuiste mi héroe, sino mi verdugo?”

“Dios, ¿por qué nunca te apiadaste de mí?!”

Peace

There are some times when I think of me,

Yeah, no hype, no pretence… just me,

Alone as the time I was born,

Crying out with a devious intention to make others hear me,

Bawling just to prove my ears my voice does exist.

There are some times when I think of me...

Wearing nothing but my personality,

My not so dainty personality,

Y let my temples leak rivers while I pull my lips to both sides,

Fooling everybody around me, with my dim-witted giggle.

There are some times when I look at my feet

And then a sniveling intention of melodrama cuts up my path,

I feel a snarling need to turn round

And see it there’s a way to make the world stop spinning,

Or at least pretend that the time ain’t crawling for a couple of minutes

That I’m the same little poor thing my mother received on a spring night

Loving me…warts and all.

There are some times when I remain aloof to keep on breathing,

There’s no sense…

I might well get drown in my own sobs,

My doleful eyes are whispering watery rhymes to my ears,

And these –always receptive – just keep them to themselves

I’m so damn sure I will whisper some ruthless verses for you,

For everybody who has hurt me!

There are some times when I think of you,

Coming closer,

Kissing me softly,

Wrapping me up with the heat of your voice,

Wishing to be woken up with a kiss…

With that brass-rubbing heat the word “love” can turn into,

But I ain’t sure I’ll ever hear that again.

There are some times when I am baffled by myself,

And I feel my scraggy soul led to derelict

By the life of debauchery you’ve got me into,

And I smile with a shame I thought I was unable to nurture,

But it’s there, that's something you left behind.

There are some times when I know I am about to die

And I just don’t care…

I don’t feel sorrow, nor pain…just a revolting peace,

I’m off to bed, and if God is great as everybody says,

I won’t wake up to see another fucking day!

Humano

Que indefenso me siento en este mundo,

Sin secretos,

Sin más coraza que la ropa que tengo puesta,

Empapada en mis miedos más férreos,

Tiritando de frío,

Procurando no moverme para no romper el delicado hilo del destino,

Que desnudo me siento en este horizonte incierto,

En que la primavera y el invierno

Se han enganchado en una batalla titánica,

Sí, soy simplemente yo,

El ser humano sin versos, sin rimas, sin conocimientos,

Traslucido como la placenta haciéndose rancia al contacto del aire,

Soy ese humano que has liberado de la locura

Con tus manos santas,

Que rompieron la carcasa de indolencia,

De una manera desesperadamente rabiosa y al mismo tiempo risueña,

Soy ese humano que has salvado de la corriente hediendo

De pensamientos pusilánimes y morbosamente suicidas,

Con tus labios misericordiosos,

Los que me han besado, me han dado vida,

Me han dado un nombre escrito sobre mi piel toda,

Muy pausadamente como cuando una fiera pasea reconociendo su territorio,

Soy ese ser humano, nacido de una Eva y un Adán,

Expulsado del paraíso para propia condenación de su alma,

Y que ha encontrado el camino de la salvación en tus piernas,

Y el templo primigenio en tu pecho,

Que ronronea suavemente cuando susurras mi nombre bordado con un te amo,

Soy ese ser humano, que hoy se declara más tuyo que propio…

Sí, soy tuyo,

Sólo tuyo,

Por siempre tuyo,

Amén!

Some men

Close your eyes, I can swear I don’t have a gun, no, I don’t have a gun…

Close your eyes, I can swear I won’t pick up a gun, no, I won’t pick up a gun.

Some men like light skin,

Some others tasty tanned skin,

Some men like big round butts,

Some other don’t give a damn for them

They just think of big dicks,

Some like the rude boys,

Others go for the sissy ones,

Some are looking for a cute boy with short hair and a beard,

Some others will run away if they find a hair on their lover’s chest,

Some men enjoy being with other men,

And accept themselves, and live discretely,

Some others prefer to hide, to pretend being straight,

Getting married, having children: 2 or 3,

They think would be enough to deceive the accusing finger of society,

While they are ready to give it to you on their marital bed,

And there are others who love going to the parade,

Shake their butt and burn politicians’ photos,

And tattooing the rainbow flag on their arms…

Some men are dark as dirt,

They look for fresh meat every day,

Knowing they carry AIDS, they manage themselves to do it bareback,

Some men are quiet,

And they’d never say they love you,

Tough they cook you dinner, iron your clothes, and give you money for your taxi home,

Some men are loud,

They say they love you, introduce you to their families,

And as soon as you’re at work they call their lovers to visit them

To fist-fuck him cause your dick doesn’t even tingle in their super elastic assholes,

Some men woo you like a lady,

They kiss your hands,

They pick up from here and there,

They are always trying to satisfy your needs though they can’t get a bone,

Some men just kiss you when they are drunk,

And some others drink just to forget they either fuck you or were fucked by you,

Some men will ride you for a night,

Others will pick you up and take you out from the streets and make you cross-dress

And then fuck you up every other day,

Psycho-fetishists that we can find any time of the day…

Some men like you

Are unexpected variables of this game,

(Too good to be true),

Here pussyboys and buttsluts always lose their turn…

some men are just stupid, they seek flesh instead of mind,

no wonder why I’m adverse to loving you…

I’m afraid of loving you because of those men that came, smacked, stole, and left…

I’m afraid of loving you, please be patient!

Close your eyes, I can swear I don’t have a gun, no, I don’t have a gun…

Close your eyes, I can swear I won’t pick up a gun, no, I won’t pick up a gun.