Goodbye Dear Friend

I have been out of the picture for a while. The year was tough and the return to my homeland terrible. Facing illness and demise from those you love is not an easy feat.
This poem I have read as my last goodbye, a fitting eulogy for someone who is no longer among us.

Bye bye Osky!

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Elegía al hombre silencioso, Martiniano Oscar Segovia


Al momento de marcharme
Una luna espléndida
Se alzaba en el firmamento,
Y el cinturón del bravo Orión
Estaba posicionado
Con una exactitud asombrosa
Sobre tu última morada.

Entre la sosegada arboleda,
Caminaba yo junto al menor de tus retoños,
Recordando tu persona
Y observando el fenómeno celeste.

El hombre silencioso,
Me dije a mi misma.
Esta es la despedida
del hombre silencioso.
Aquel que no tiene necesidad
De gran pompa y opulencia,
De afectaciones ni de imposiciones.

Aquel cuya sencillez,
Por lo genuina, asombra.
Quien contaba con multitud de conocimientos
Aprendidos en la oscuridad de un taller solitario,
Y sin embargo rara vez
Hacía exposición de algo más
Que su pasión por el fútbol.

Un humilde corazón,
Heredero de los estoicos romanos,
Que amaba la Historia y la Filosofía.
Y aun así no se desprendía de su pequeña radio.

Hoy despedimos al hombre silencioso
Quien con su sabiduría supo decir
Mucho más que los locuaces.
Un buen hombre, en el medio de todo este ruido.

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Happiness: Brief but Good

..."The beach is a place where a man can feel
He's the only soul in the world that's real"...

The Who - Quadrophenia

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I felt very modern – as in Modernism the artistic movement – while spending my weekend in the amazing medieval citadels of the Costa Brava in northern Spain. As I stayed in Begur, a former feudal stronghold, which was finally destroyed by the canons of Napoleon’s army, I was able to reach out to the neighbouring towns of Peratallada, Palau-Sator and Pals.
The mystique of those old towns scattered within the geography of the sinuous Hills of the North transports you to another time and place, where simplicity and endurance were vital. For such reason, the olden towers still gaze upon us with pride; they will still be there when we are long gone…
The marvellous sound of the Middle Sea under my balcony inspired me to write in Spanish, just one time, and dedicate these rhymes to my mother.
They seldom drink tea in such regions, you may replace with garnatxa wine, at your leisure.
I send my special love to faithful Frenchy Bastarrrd, LUX AETERNA and the lovely Pandora.

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El mar,
Mi madre es el mar…

El Mediterráneo lame las rocas
Frente al castillo de Begur.
Escucho su canción,
Como si las sirenas de Ulises
Me llamaran por mi nombre.

Miro las rocas,
Las tenues luces de la bahía…

Las Islas Medas,
De las hijas del Sol,
Inspiran mis versos tardíos
Cuando en menos de dos horas
Saldrá el padre para despejar la Aurora.

He deseado este sol,
Tantas veces para mi madre!
He ansiado
Tantas veces darle el sol!

Este mítico Mar,
Este “Mar Nuestro”,
Mar eterno
que capturó a César
y a los griegos que nos legaron su cultura.

Las olas lamen la bahía
En la que Napoleón probara sus cañones;
Y sin embargo sus logros
No lograron mitigar la piedra
Del antiguo atalaya.

Mi madre es el mar...
Y a sus ojos profundos
Desearía legar por siempre
Las visiones de todos los mares
Surcados por hombres arcanos
Cuyo único testigo es la roca.

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The pictures are my own. Begur Castle at night plus the view of the Med from my apartment.

Have you ever been afraid?

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
The Shadow knows!"

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Have you ever been afraid?
Have you ever seen the unseen
Peaking from underneath the mattresses
In the death of night?

Has your mind ever fed
From increasing paranoia?
To think you will never escape it,
Yourself and the way that you are.

Have you asked forgone Gods
To aid you and give you safe passage
Through this hell we call Life?

I can answer yes to all.
I know damnation when I see it,
Well enough to know,
I am positively damned.

Uncanny recollections,
And distant echoes from faraway places…
Knowledge begets fear
And infinite respect.

A word to the wise,
Seeking freedom comes with the high price
Of losing your mind.

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A strong blend of Ginseng tea can help put away our ominous thoughts...
The image belongs to darklings favourite Hieronymus Bosch, and is called "Death of the Reprobate".

Hello it´s me

"Hello it´s me, haven't seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
Hello it's me."

John Cale & Lou Reed
Songs for Drella

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Dear Friends,

I have been missing for a while, I know I am to blame, but as I have been very busy in Barcelona, I believe I might have a bit of an excuse.
Since my arrival things took a turn for the worse, all plans went awry and once again I was faced with no other answer but patience. On the Southern front, a beloved member of my family has come down with a serious illness and might leave this world soon. So, as it is, everything is stalled, frozen and all attempts at change are futile.

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I cannot write,
I want to write and exorcize
My inner demons,
My soul.

The hand wanders,
The tip of my nail bangs the letters,
I force myself to type,
I am after all a scribe.

An old remnant of a bygone era,
An analogue being trying hard to survive
In the technoccult world
Of now.

Useless.
My skills are nothing.
Who needs a writer, who needs a scholar?
Who needs a scribe?

I cannot seem to find my way,
How can I be of use,
When all I have to offer
Is hardly utilitarian?

I lose people every year,
The wise ones who need not learn
Any more from this wretched world,
Though I stay.

I stay to bear witness
To the new eon,
When man becomes machine
And poets are useless.

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The Wiz Kid

"Most people are content to put their trust in far less powerful allies, mere men and not equipped with wisdom such as mine. But I that have never ceased to watch over you in all your adventures am a goddess."
Athena to Odysseus, Iliad, Book XX

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Tomorrow is the anniversary of my nativity, and I have to admit, it has been a rough ride. As many others in this world, my childhood was marked by great expectations, many which didn’t come to pass. The following lines are inspired by such prospects and how my views on intelligence have changed over the years. I know I will sound presumptuous to those who do not know me personally, but I can assure you it is as truthful as it reads.

A nice warm cup of jasmine tea makes the perfect infusion for these grey Autumn days.
The image depicts an Athenian Owl, symbolizing wisdom and strategy.

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Once in the shiny land of innocence,
Where the air smells like gum,
But never incense,
I was told I was a Wiz.

I did not know
What it really meant,
But I did know
That there were higher stakes for me
Than for the rest.

And through the ever changing times
I vowed to please,
I tried to tribute,
What I was meant to be.

I gathered prizes
And collected awards
I peddled smiles for the adults,
Whose world I wanted
To conquer one day…

I endured the cruel,
Grey days of adolescence
Using wit as a shield,
And sometimes even fists.

I have been violent,
Reckless and proud,
But always kept my vow
And as I could I would
And remained number one.

With the mind set firmly
I would look out sternly
At the finish line
Which was always on sight.

Through familiar decay,
Poverty, illness and madness
I kept on going
To prove myself
I was still a Wiz.

Youth came and shone even brighter,
Bright as rays of golden sun,
But as the strife grew harder
It started to dim its light.

Even the greatest of stars
Eventually dwarf and expire,
Within the masses of nebulae.
Being only the surviving core,
The difference between a neutron and a black hole,
Much as ourselves…

Once I was told I was a Wiz,
But a Wiz is as a Wiz does,
And as we grow older
We aren’t as witty and funny.

We are forced into the wilderness
With too much enthusiasm,
Overconfidence and theoretical knowledge,
To understand the main gift of life
Should be resilience and endurance.

Endurance,
Faith and endurance
Faith in endurance
And faith in fate.

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Rebirth

The past month was a strange coming together of dark forces, which I have been trying to dispel. For the first time I faced the uncertainty of our carcasses, and that was exposed in the last poem I posted back in April, “Body is treacherous”. At the same time, nothing went according to plan and I ended nearly scavenging for funds, submerged in debts. As the say goes, when you’re tight and sick your only refuge can be love, and in my case it was…
As cheesy as it may sound to anyone who dares read my words, I rediscovered the simple life I hold together with my life partner Rob, as something more precious than anything external. Comfort is nice, but surplus nevertheless. That seems to be the lesson I was able to snatch from the pits of the Darkness.
Going back to straight tea with milk, to eventually pick up the pace of my forsaken log.


Lady Astor

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Fortuna, come hither!
I dance at your whim
Through the tides of time,
Could you at least for once
Give me a beneficial chance?

Sitting and fretting
On the cold grey marble floor
Of the behemoth public hospital facilities,
As I listen to female nonsensical chatter
I expect resolutions for my ailing body.

A connected string of bad omens,
Never been one out of worries
And though my body resisted,
My emotions however
Have proven much less resilience.

With each blow I less expect
And have almost forfeited
The narrow chances of success
I might have had some time ago,
When my spring bore the signs of Hope.

So dear Fortuna I beg of thee,
Bless me with your bountiful smile,
Dress my soul with robes of gold
And repave my path with Trust.
Lest you want this loyal friend
To forever lose her Faith.


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Body is treacherous

I am infinitely thankful for the kind comments poured in my life log. It is here I open my soul for the world to see and gain confidence from the encouragement I receive.
As I sip my English tea – no sugar of course – I salute thee.

Much love,
Lady Astor

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Body is treacherous…
We are taught it is majorly composed by water,
And as water it’s ever changing,
Fluctuates constantly,
Like the Waters in Heraclitus´ river.

As I watch the skies before the dawn,
I observe the position of the constellations
Which have accompanied the fates of mankind
Since the dawn of time,
And scrutinize their seasonal permutations.

The moon is waning, bright and covered in mist,
Light bathing my body as I keep waiting
For answers as time slips away,
As the firmament of Southern Fall
Makes the twenty ninth star of Capricorn the brightest.

Things are meant to never last,
Though flux confuses our senses
As that which we were familiar with
Fades away with each passing season,
Until we inhabit a house that becomes alien.

Body is treacherous…
We were immortals once and we suddenly discover
The earthly residence we once knew so well
Rebels against our very selves,
As wild horses drive to tragedy our bountiful cart.


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