My father used to tell me stories
About the atrocious gods
Who devoured their own children.
I always used to believe
The stories foretold my own destiny.
I don’t believe in gods anymore,
Nor in the impossible tracks of destiny.
I don’t even believe in my father.
I believe in walks beside calm rivers
Where no regret ever blooms.
Happiness belongs to those
Who have never heard the word.
I love and hate happiness too deeply
To ever unlearn the word.
I can never look at the stars
Without asking their meaning.
I can never drink port
Without asking where it came from.
The palpable horror of knowing happiness
Always returns to haunt me.
Happiness was invented by those
Who could never feel it.
Softly, softly, I hear a breeze
Caressing the river’s tide
And I forget I need love,
Forget I need the great human adventure.
I hope this forgetting outlives
The breeze caressing the river’s tide!
I never share my poetry online.
A tree in the Alto doesn’t share its season
With a tree in Patagonia.
I write so I indulge in non-existing,
A death in verse, a divine fossilisaiton.
I never share myself online
Because to be seen and commented on
Is to pretend you are someone
That feels the need to be going somewhere.
I would rather be within my poems
That are as natural as a tree in the Alto,
Not even knowing the names of the seasons,
Completely stripped of my outer self.
“Why do you live
Like such a hermit?”
An acquaintance asks me
On my phone.
I cannot see her face,
It is as if she is
A radio announcer
Narrating fake news.
I feel compelled to reply:
“Would you call a
Drinker and a hedonist
Like me a hermit?”
“You actually do that?
How am I to know?
You never post anything!”
Is my life not real to her?
A newfound love for
This Digital Age erupts
In my Epicurean soul:
To not exist I need only be
“I am no hermit for I
Indulge in the bowels of living.
But I want my living to be
Like a shooting star
That leaves no permanent trail
Across the wounded night.
If I show people
What I want them to see
I will be judged,
And judgement is the soil
From which the tyranny of meaning
“I never you knew you hated
Social media this much!”
“I don’t hate it, I love it.
Without the light it casts on the world
I would never have my shadows
Where I exist without purpose.”