hpy...

Happy New Year to everyone out there who reads this, don't screw it up so much as you did this year, dance more, drink more and sleep less.

2012... BRING IT ON.

Estás?

Estan los que son, los que se hacen, los que quieren ser.

Estan los aprovechados, los ingenuos.

los que sonrien a la vida y los que viven por sonreir,

Estan los que mueren, los que resucitan,

los que aman, los que aprenden y los que se equivocan,

los que quieren correr y los que aprecian caminar.

Estan los que miran, y los que prefieren observar,

los que escuchan y los que se conforman con oir.

Los que siempre han sido y los que talvez serán.

Mars.

Just few memories living on my heart,

just few people going through my hands,

from trash it comes art

just few people live in Mars

All the beauty, all the crime

it all depends in the eyes,

you're trying to find some rhyme

while i see people living in Mars.

Little kids trained to die

while you dream whit flying cars,

I bought a ticket and said goodbye,

because tomorrow I'm leaving to Mars.

¿Te olvidé?

Te olvido cuando las fotos no me traen recuerdos,

y cuando caminemos en el cielo.

Cuando el sol nos traiga oscuridad,

y las estrellas cumplan nuestros deseos.

Cuando una lágrima pinte en el cielo un arcoiris,

y de una sonrisa salgan estrellas fugaces.

Cuando un ciego pueda leernos Shakespeare,

y un sordo pueda decirnos el ritmo de la melodia.

Te olvido cuando Peter Pan entre por mi ventana,

y cuando Campanita me haga volar.

Te olvido cuando la alegría me haga llorar,

y cuando los abrazos me den frío.

Cuando el miedo nos haga saltar,

y cuando la motivación me haga arrepentirme.

Te olvido todos los dias, para volverte a recordar,

cuando tu indiferencia me haga amarte más

y cuando el amor deje de emocionarme.

Te olvido cuando recuerdo que es solo un recuerdo,

te olvido solo para hacerte realidad en mis sueños.

What if I didn't exist?

What if there was no pain?

nothing black, all just gray.

What if there was no cure?

nothing wrong, nothing right.

No rocks to jump,

no hearts to break,

no tears to cry,

no time to waste.

What if there was no dark?

nowhere to fall apart.

What if there was no time?

nowhere to run nowhere to die.

Living in the dark kingdom.

Here I am collecting broken dolls,

parts of my past like broken walls,

I hear the fights and the screaming,

Cover my ears with fireless dreaming.

Bit of happiness I want to borrow,

Inside my window there's just horror,

Please save me I'm tired of sorrow,

A room full of pain, is dark and narrow.

Put a gun to my head but don't shoot me,

Break my heart but don't rip it apart,

Stab me in the back with a knife,

but please don't let me know who you are.

At the end of the day I'm making fairy tales,

Trying to jump from this window,

leaving without looking back,

I'm not coming back to this dark kingdom.

15 minutes in paradise.

One for french movies,

two for pizzas,

three for the girls,

and four for the boys.

Five for vintage,

six for flowers,

seven for ice cream,

eight for photos.

Nine for polaroid cameras,

and ten for vodka.

The eleventh goes for magazines,

and the twelfth is for my guitar.

Thirteen because I like to sing,

Fourteen because you and me,

just got fifteen ways of falling in love.

I know you'll be gone.

"We know the beginning, we know the end."

All my poems are the same,

They start with a capital letter,

and end with a "."

All my dreams are the same,

they start with you,

and end with a "you and me",

What does that mean?.

We are born alone,

and we leave this world by ourselves.

I'm guarded,

Goodbyes are the only thing I've ever learned.

Life teach us that love is cruel,

we learn how to shoot at someone,

before we learn how to say I love you.

I know I cried when I was born,

and sadly,

I know you'll be crying when I'm gone.

I know love starts with a "hello"

and ends with a "bye".

I know the melody,

I know the instruments,

I know the lyrics,

that will tell our story.

I know the beginning,

I know the end.

Go away.

Cut the pictures,

burn the letters,

delete the song.

Maybe I was obsessed,

or I loved you too much.

I'm not asking for anything,

not asking for your sorrow,

not asking for your voice.

I used to know the color of your eyes,

I pictured your smile a thousand times,

I counted your freckles everyday.

I don't anymore.

I'm not asking for a call,

don't try to pick me up,

I need to learn which rocks to jump.

Do not look at me,

with those green eyes.

Don't talk to me,

and give me that perfect smile.

Hide yourself,

I don't want to count your freckles,

you have 4.

Time.

People say, Time erases your pain,

But, what if it doesn't?

I've learned that time doesn't cure the wounds,

time is just a word we use,

to comfort ourselves,

and to convince our hearts to get over it.

Time is what make us vulnerable,

Time means future, changes, fears.

Time won't make us feel better,

but time will pass until I do.

Time won't make me forget you,

but the things you will do over the time.

Time,

Things happen,

people change.

Time is where we are standing now,

where we were standing yesterday,

and where will be standing tomorrow.

Time is not a magical doctor,

and time will not put my heart together again,

but,

time will bring the person that will.

Dreams about you.

Those times when we used to either laugh or cry together.

Those times when we used to dance in the hallways, when we kissed, when we talked.

I won't forget those times, when you hold my hand, and dragged me to your chest, and I cried and cried for hours, and you wouldn't dare to move, to ask or to hide.

I promise to you, that I won't forget anything, I will remember every single secret, every single kiss, every single song.

I promise I will remember my dreams with you, that little house we had, our kids, our bookshelves with that big section we used to call "To read", I won't forget it, but I won't make it real either.

Your letters, your songs, those tons of ice cream we had every saturday, and all those calories too. Those are thing I won't forget, ever.

Your kisses that tasted like strawberries sometimes, your hair that seamed to smell always the same, that cologne your grandma gave to you on your birthday, that cologne that had the power to made me want to stay with you the hole day, and your wide open arms, always giving me somewhere to cry.

I won't forget all the heartbeats, the butterflies on my stomach and all the things that had made you unforgettable .

I won't forget you, because you didn't exist.

Winter on July, Summer on January.

While we sit right here, in this park bench, in this small town, we wait for something to happen. Won't be snow, because we're in the middle of the summer and it certainly won't be something riveting. We wait for something to come, like glitter falling from the sky, like flowers growing from the sun. We wait for a stutterer to read us Shakespeare, we wait for a "Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer". And thats it, we wait for the summer. Even if it's 27C in this park, we wait for the summer to come to our hearts. Because several moths back, we got cold during January, during February and is still cold on July. Because my heart can feel the snow, even when my hands can touch the grass, because my eyes see white, even when you hold my hand.

Because I'm still waiting for you, to be my sun.

Piezas perdidas.

El rastro de una lágrima que marcó el camino por el que te fuiste, me dajste aquí sola, esperandote, sabiendo que nunca ibas a venir. El rastro de mis lágrimas que marcaron cicatrices en mi, en mi corazón, en tu recuerdo. Tal como romper una foto, si no pierdes los pedazos, en cualquier momento puedes volver a pegarla, aun sabiendo que quedará una marca, la foto nunca perderá la imagen. Yo guardé los pedazos de este amor, los pegué de nuevo, lo armé como se arma un rompecabezas, hasta que me di cuenta, que faltaba una pieza.

Tu corazón.

Love's theater.

Just like thunders are not happiness

and all you're friends are not true.

I'm just an actress and you an actor,

we play our roles,

the way life decides.

We never take control,

stay against the wall,

don't you dare to talk.

Pretend you're happy,

keep on going with disaster.

Don't run, don't move,

don't do anything a person would do.

Quiet, hear the silence,

i need you to hear me crying.

Tired of being a doll,

rebellion takes the world.

I jumped off on the stage,

I'm on the audience.

Look at me,

call me when you're done,

destiny is next door.

Black (green) and white.

My hair was lightly red,

wore a green shirt,

had a clover on my hand.

I painted your face green,

like a "Green-Go",

in the middle of Mexico city.

I searched for the Empire State,

sat on Central Park,

met you on Chinatown.

I felt the sun on my face,

the love in the air.

I looked around,

looked for your face

so many people in black and white,

and just one green smile.

I painted your face green..

Summer days.

In the middle of the city,

where buildings look like palm trees,

and houses look like boats,

where the air, it's water

and the asphalt feels like san.

Where the cold breeze smells

like the ocean.

Heartless people,

that look like fishes,

little kids,

like mermaids.

The cloudy sky,

has just turned into a sunset

and your eyes,

are the only light in the city.

Your eyes,

are the sun,

my sun.

Fotos de un extraño.

Bueno, supongo que cuando uno llega a las 1009 visitas de su blog, deberia publicar algo que te lleven a tener otras 1000 visitas más. No se si este poema lo hará, pero espero que les guste.

Yo:

Con una cámara de rollo, me senté en la mitad de la calle.

En frente de mi casa, al lado de la vecina, detrás de una cámara.

Era un sábado normal,

todos pasaban sin apuros por la acera,

mientras yo tomaba fotografías de la gente.

A ninguno le molestaba el evidente flash de mi cámara,

a nadie parecia importarle las fotos,

solo los niños se me acercaban para tocar la cámara,

me sonreían, yo capturaba la sonrisa,

y luego se iban. Era como un juego.

Él:

Me sentaba en la mitad de la calle,

Nadie captaba mi atención,

solo una niña con una cámara,

sentada en frente mio, al lado de la vecina,

detrás de su cámara.

Tomaba fotos, como algo rutinario,

pero siempre con mucho entusiasmo,

una foto, una sonrisa.

Yo solo me limitaba a mirarla.

Yo:

Y así fue, como en todas mis fotos,

si logras observar al fondo de la calle,

estas tú.

Sentado en frente mio, al lado de tu casa,

detras de una mirada enamorada.

Intente más tarde - Try again, later.

Un lapicero sin tinta,

un montón de palabras mudas,

una carta sin destinatario,

un poema sin versos.

Un libro sin páginas,

una canción sin sentido.

Un número telefónico,

al que nunca llamé.

Con razón nunca supiste que te amo.

Un poema de amor.

Los rayos, de luz de luna, que se colaban entre la persiana de mi habitación.

La tenue luz de mi lámpara de leer,

el sonido de las páginas de un libro.

Todas y cada una de las cosas que veia, escuchaba,

me llevaban a ti.

Nunca importará, la distancia, ni las personas que encontremos en el camino,

no importaran las canciones ni los libros,

ni los rayos de luz de luna que se reflejan en el espejo,

solo importarás tu.

Si te gritara cuanto te amo,

estoy segura que solo la luna me escucharia.

Si te escribiera un poema de amor,

estoy segura,

que solo el teclado de mi computadora,

escucharia los suspiros,

notaria las miradas de esperanza, a las 2 a.m.

Guardaré este poema debajo de mi almohada,

el guardará todos mis sueños contigo,

y todos los rayos de luz de luna,

ojalá algún dia puedas leer este poema,

ojalá que ese día,

mi poema ya no tenga mas sueños guardados,

ojalá los hayamos vivido todos.

Times New Roman, 12.

Sentada en la ventana de mi habitación,

leia un poema que hablaba de amor,

de un amor imposible.

Estaba escrito en Times New Roman,

tamaño 12, alineación a la derecha.

Una canción sonaba desde mi computadora,

un canción que hablaba de amor,

de un amor enamorado.

Yo veia pasar a las personas desde la ventana,

no ponia mucha atención,

todos eran normales, ningun enamorado,

todos amargados.

Mis ojos no se cruzaban con ninguno de esos extraños,

hasta que mirando hasta el fondo de la calle,

te vi.

Tu escribias un poema,

Times New Roman, tamaño 12,

alineación a la derecha.

Mi mirada se cruzó con la tuya,

mi corazón escribió el segundo verso de tu poema,

yo canté el coro,

de lo que se convirtió en nuestra canción,

nuestro poema,

nuestro amor.

Huele a galletas recien horneadas.

No hay nada como un amor recien salido del horno, un amor que huele a galletas con chispas de chocolates.

Nada se compara con esas primeras miradas de amor, esas que son inconcientes, esas que el no nota y ella no ve, esas que solo pueden observadas por una "escritora" adolescente y fanatica del amor, alguien como yo.

Esas caricias en los pasillos que nadie nunca ve, que nadie nota, excepto yo (que los sigo a todas partes, por el simple hecho que ellos me contagian amor) y sus corazones, esos corazones latiendo a maxima velocidad, y esos latidos que aumentan con cada palabra, con cada centimetro menos de distancia entre los labios de dos adolescentes casi enamorados, two teenagers falling in love, the way I see it.

Sonrisas que no se programan, mejillas que son discretamente mas rosadas, miradas mas brillantes, y latidos, que incluso yo, que solo observo silenciosamente sentada en la mitad el pasillo del colegio, puedo escuchar.

El no quita los brazos de su cintura, y ella no se atreveria a alejar la cabeza de su pecho, yo no les quito los ojos de encima. El se siente amado, ella proteguida, yo me siento como una intrusa.

Yo escucho los latidos cada vez mas fuertes y me imagino, que de haber estado mas cerca de ellos, los latidos me hubieran impedido escirbir esto. Ellos al mismo tiempo sienten las respiraciones mas de cerca, unos labios toncan los otros, una mano toca la otra, un corazon toca al otro, y de repento yo, me veo atrapada en una pelicula de amor, donde ellos no actuan, ellos viven, y yo soy una simple espectadora.

Me despido, ya me llego el olor a galletas recien horneadas.

Claudia Crinigan.

PD: Aunqe no lo crean, esta es mi primera entrada, 100% basada en hechos reales.