A una rata

Espero que no hayan errores en este texto, mi poema. Pero si hayan, no veo ningun problema asi que una rata parece un gran error en general. Por otro lado, por algun motivo una criatura como esta vive y existe en el mundo...

como una rata
que corre que huele que busca
que no sabe sentimientos o no lo puede saber
que no se preocupa y no ve mucho

ay, rata
por que eres tan fea
por que sudas
y por que te odian los demas

pero rata, que eres maleducada
no me respondes nada

eres una marginada
y adonde corres tonta
al otro mundo? no lo encontraras
lo te digo yo
el Dios de los perdedores

Głupie pytanie

dlaczego ja nie śpię kiedy inni śpią
dlaczego krzyczę kiedy inni się śmieją
dlaczego stoję kiedy inni wędrują
dlaczego płaczę kiedy tamci się radują

kiedy powiesz pokaż co tam chowasz
co namalujesz palcami tęsknoty
co zdobędziesz pokaż tamci nie widzą
a najbardziej ślepi co szydzą

i znowu dlaczego dlaczego spieszą kiedy ja zwalniam
dlaczego tak obojętni kiedy ja tak pragnę
dlaczego umierają kiedy ja wciąż żyję
dodatkowe minuty życia aż ślady grzechu zmyję

i nie obrażaj się durniu idioto
że palcami namaluję śmierć na twej szyi
dlaczego przeginasz się dumny kiedy ja stoję z boku
czerwone jak krew, nie zrezygnuję z widoku

czy długo będziesz tak stał żałośnie
dlaczego nie czujesz kiedy uderzam w twoją pierś z całej siły
dlaczego nie czytasz kiedy piszę na ścianie
z..... ... .... .... ........

foto: Stanisław Drężek

Konkrety (2)

I can't sing
I can't sing at all

Poor me, I will never be able to make a sound
that would describe the chaos
that deafens me
every time
I pronounce the word Life

Głośniej niż cicho

cisza
nią nie jest i nigdy nie będzie
bo będziesz słyszał echo swych myśli i sumienia przeraźliwy pisk
i dumy potężny bębna brzdęk
i przerzucanych wspomnień kartek
i szelest brudnych myśli
i ciężki oddech zagłuszy nawet bicie serca

zabijasz ciszę
podstępny morderco
zakłócasz spokój pustych ścian
zatruwasz powietrze parszywym jadem
zamilknij na zawsze

foto: Stanisław Drężek

Z serii "Konkrety" (1)

it's funny

when you lie on your bed
while crying
the tears pour down your cheeks
sideways
straight into your ears

?Y ahora, adónde?

Mar adentro, mar adentro,
y en la ingravidez del fondo
donde se cumplen los suenos,
se juntan dos voluntades
para cumplir un deseo.

Tu mirada y mi mirada
como un eco repitiendo, sin palabras
mas adentro, mas adentro
hasta el mas alla del todo
por la sangre y por los huesos.

(de los poemas de Ramón, "Mar Adentro" A. Amenabar)

photos: Stanisław Drężek

About Noticing Things

I'm definitely not a film freak. I prefer music; I can sit for hours and think or imagine things. I can dance until I'm totally breathless and dizzy. It inspires me a lot. However, with films it's different. I consider watching every new movie waste of time doing. Instead, I can watch the same film, the one I became fond of, several times. I'm not sure if I'll manage to set a new record after "Moulin Rouge" and "Rosario Tijeras," but the next film I consider hugely moving and thought-provoking is "American Beauty" directed by Sam Mendes. This was one of films that made me sit still for about an hour after the film finished and just think.

First of all, the main subject is beauty. Although each of the protagonists craves for something and feels unfulfilled, there is something positive in the film. The beauty that we experience in life turns out to be something unbearable, meaning that there are so many things to be loved and admired that you become overwhelmed by them. They can move you to tears. "Because the sky is blue, it makes me cry." Sadly, a boy who notices these tiny things is considered mental. But it's good to find things in life that are worth watching. What the boy frequently uses is a camera, which can enable you to get something that normally you can miss. In such a hurry like nowadays, we frequently miss things. With camera you can zoom in on things, and notice more. And if you do, it's hard to get angry with life and what it's done to you since there's so much beauty.

Second, probably many of us have lived life and at some point realized that are dead, that is unsatisfied with life they have. Similarly, the 42-year old Lester discovers his needs when introduced to his daughter's friend, a young and sexy girl. He wants to change. And he does. He says, "I've been in a coma for 20 years and now I've just woken up." He is no longer indifferent to how people behave or treat him. He even gets fit. It's never too late, as people say. To me passiveness is the worst thing ever. It reminds me of constant depression. How can you live with it for so many years? Change or die, I would say.

Next, the subject of being ordinary is also raised. The teenage girl that Lester has a crush on maintains that there's nothing worse than being ordinary. I'm afraid she might be right. Even when you're criticized, you get the feeling that other people are interested in you. If they ignore you, they're telling you that you're boring. I'm sure it doesn't take a vain person to feel bad about being unnoticed.

Finally, the subject of imagination provokes me to thinking. Probably it was not aimed to do so much, though. Nevertheless, I find it interesting and quite familiar since my experience so far has shown the similar. Namely, Lester is a perfect example of a victim of his own imagination. Your imagination can lead you anywhere. You might see plenty of strange things in your dreams. And why do you dream? Why do you imagine things? Because you think you've missed something in life like Lester? Or just out of being bored and awaiting new adventures? You might try to convince me that just the fact that you imagine something to be doesn't mean that eventually it will come true. However, I will still insist that sometimes it does come true. I mean your imagination is such a powerful thing that in the most unexpected moment it will be converted into reality. So be careful with your dreaming...

I think everyone in the film learnt a lesson. But what about us, mere puppets?

Which type are you ?

Es facil

mi pelo
tiene puntas rotas
voy a cortarlo,
un dia
serA arreglado
y mAs vivo

mi vida
tan insoportable
voy a cortarla,
un dia
serA una persona contenta
mAs muerta que viva

Yummy!

An incredible thing happened to me (mind you, recently the word "incredible" hasn't functioned the way it used to), that is I ran into a poem, probably the origin of the one I put on my blog in May 2009 (see The Sweetest Poem Ever). Overexcited, I decided to:

• share the poem with you (whoever is reading this, very probably not many, but those who do, feel like prize-winners)
• try writing my own short poems (perhaps not extremely challenging, but doing well in the time of The Great Autumn Depression, I guess)

I'm going to start with a poem I admire every time I read it, the poem written by Matthew Sweeney and titled "Poem Spoken by a Cat to Its Owner's Friends Who are Flat-sitting":
I have eaten
the chicken
you had on the sideboard
defrosting

and which you were hoping
to roast
and serve with wine
to your friends

forgive me
I'm a cat
we have no manners
we're always like that

It's not that I'm ever going to like cats, even after such a simple statement and honest confession of one of them. However, as it turns out, they may be quite good material for a poem. Perhaps I should have thought about it before writing my own tiny piece of writing. And here it is:

I have eaten
almost nothing
and for a couple of months
with the same manner

and which you were hoping
I would change soon
and stop being
skinny and vicious

forgive me
seems I've lost
what made me fat and happy
now I'll die of hunger

You have the right not to like it, 'cause it's pessimistic. The next one will not mention the word 'dying,' I promise.

I have made
another face
one of those
you definitely dislike

and which you were asking me
not to repeat
in the nearest
future

forgive me
it was so tempting
your sweet fury
my repeated pleasure

I think now it's better although I disturbed the pattern this time (I changed eating into making). I'll try to work on that as well.

I have eaten
the remains of my brain
since I had to choose
between the brain and the heart

and which now seems to be
the easy way out
to be embraced
with no pricks of conscience

forgive me
looks like I've seen
too many soaps
they're no good for a woman

Am I melodramatic? I promise I will work on my sense of humour. Below you will find the last try. Enjoy.

I have eaten
humble pie
and you made me
eat my words too

and which was difficult
to swallow
I think I'll need
much more cola

forgive me
I've spoken too much again
next time
I will let you sink

That's it. Thank you for your patience.

decyzja

prawdopodobnie
zwierzałam ci się już
słabo pływam i dostaję paraliżu gdy tracę grunt

a gdy wypłynę już dalej
gdy brzeg nagle staje się rozmazaną linią
niepokój i boję się i pluskam bez kontroli
i nie wiem co robić gdzie bliżej gdzie lepiej
czy warto tracić tchu i wypalać nadziei ostatnie płomienie
czy warto płynąć do brzegu
bo po co się tak męczyć
po co umierać by przeżyć
po co poniżać się by przetrwać

czy potrzebna ta walka
przecież znam to miejsce
wyspa oziębłych jadowitych krawaciarzy
podłych zachrypłych szybkobiegaczy
nie chcę widzieć ich gardeł
i walczyć jak co dzień

może zwrócić się ku głębokości
poznać tajemnicę niezgłębionej wielkości
czy się się odważyć zaryzykować
nie bać się zajrzeć
do wnętrza oceanu nieskończonego

i Ty Władco głębin
czy przyjmiesz mnie tam?
czy odrzucisz jak rozbitka
zniesmaczony moim brakiem wdzięczności

bo może na brzegu jest więcej
niż suchy piach i zgniłych owoców smak
i ty mówisz mi też czasem
że za często odpływam od brzegu

dlaczego tak jest ja nie znam tych osób
co są dla mnie martwym krzykiem
nie rozumiem ich słów
ale głowa mi pęka od ich wrzasku

Chcę siły ognia...

Something is trying to kill me
I feel it in the air
I feel it in my neck
I hear it in my head
I chew it with my gum

They try to provoke me
They tell me lies
with widening smile
and roaring voice

stop them!
they intend to flatten my brain
and cut off my tongue
so that I speak no more

it is so painful
I must leave the scene
and the next person
that appears behind the curtain
will be but a puppet
a voiceless helpless puppet