Someday someone will quote me:

"I rather go the right way than go very far."

"My actions are not results of force nor are they reactions. They are spontaneous in nature."


...more to come.



J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)


San Diego


12.14.09

I thought...

As we all well know, Descartes quoted the famous saying "I think therefore I am" to state that his human existence is the byproduct of his reasoning. Well, with this in mind I say:

I THOUGHT, THEREFORE YOU WERE.

Now that I don't think of you, you have ceased to be. Now that I've stopped believing in you, you have ceased to exist.


J-Lopez


San Diego

12.14.09

Nightmares

I woke up feeling afraid. Your empty pillow froze my heart. For a few seconds I feared you to be gone. This time for good. I got out of bead, sweating the coldest sweat, my bare feet gliding upon the frigid wooden floor. You did not leave. You were in the kitchen drinking coffee, staring out the window into frosted space. There I stood, in the doorway, and you had yet to notice me. The two seconds before you caught me staring seemed eternal, ethereal. Two seconds seemed to be everlasting and enough to engulf your poetic figure: ghostly to a point, your sweet and sensual skin, your beautiful brown hair and your gorgeous green eyes. The cold sweat was gone. My feet now warm as my body shivered. Two seconds were enough to change my life once again.

You turned to see that I was staring at you. You smiled and brought me back to you and with that same smirk reminded me of the true purpose of my search. I walked to you, legs shivering. Like a child I begged to be sheltered in your arms. Your arms. This is where my nightmares came to die, this is where they came to burn. Your arms murdered my fears. I felt vulnerable and stripped of that which they call "machismo". None of that mattered much right now. I was devoted to you and time seemed to be slowing down.

My behavior became apparently strange to you. I had never shown you this side of me. When you asked what was wrong, again, like a child, I said that I had had horrible horrible nightmares.

J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

12.01.09

Beads

And the faces that floated in my dreams ceased to exist…they did so in my insomnia and I could finally rest. However, my peace did not last but a brief instant when I suddenly began to think you…to miss you…to hate you…

Without knowing, or caring, that my stars had become cold corpses that adorned the black of the night I let myself be guided by this loneliness and I made a pact of blood with her. In my aloneness I dragged your image across the garden of withered carnations and wept beads

Beads of blood, beads of sweat, beads of dew

The sun falls and the day dies, and the voice of dusk begins to narrate the events of my life: you left, you strayed from me, and I was, by chance, a witness of your goodbye. What’s worse is that, upon leaving, you took with you my thoughts, my winter; you clothe your soul with my clarity and you leave, you fly, you are washed ashore and with you go my bones, my heart, my strength and, above everything else: me.

I would sell the world, even though it is not mine, for my eyes to bathe in you, briefly, just briefly if I could. The impossibility is irrefutable and I’ve accepted defeat. I do, however, keep my words…those not whispered. Words you never heard were the only things you could not take. The irony is, though, that I would sell my soul, even though that also does not belong to me, just to whisper those words in your ear in vain hope that you would stay.

J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

11.23.09

Dominical Prayers

And it was so that i reconciled my thoughts with my dreams of two Saturdays ago.

It was then that I welcomed the abyss while I, at the same time, forced myself to find any valiant and comforting feeling that maybe, just maybe, still hid in a dark passage of my subconscious where, for a while now, my memories had rotten away.

While the irate drops of water futilely pounded on my window I saw you. And you walked with fluidness, as if gliding, so strange and inexplicable through the halls of my serenity piercing the invisible walls that held up airs and moments of my temperance and past encounters.

Then I dedicated myself, with arduous devotion, to love you more than I could imagine. I found new instances to do away with the void and to fill your eyes with water so that a pure and pacified rancor could bloom.

By Sunday you did not exist. Amongst the prayers of saints and martyrs your name lost its charm, its color. The intense orations dragged your intense and phantasmagorical image towards the plenitude of my being. Blessed.


J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)


Cuernavaca, Mexico


07.28.08

Breathe. Weep. Exhale

Breathe. I feel her presence in the dark. Then I see her pale profile perforate the shadows. Her dress blends with the background of the high-ceiling room. One thought her to be ethereal but the painful echo of the wood that her needle-point heels produces give her an earthly nature. A soft sob reveals the pain knotting in her chest and lets this guides her to the center of the room—the special point her soul chose to leave its body and rise into an unknown direction. Six steps and she elevates over a steel stool, closer to her final destiny. Weep. The memory strangles her soul and, in vengeance, the rope strangles her neck. The metal stool that once held her body falls defeated against the wooden floor. The air becomes infinitely heavy. The air is too dense and rough for her satin-red throat that, during her last moments of eternity, encloses the minimal space of life. Her sharp eyes point to a roof of a color white. Her eyes, during her last breath, protested against He who makes use of roofs of all rooms, of all prisons, of all hospitals, of all the asylums of the world, in order to avoid the saddened eyes of the beings He made of clay and that now seek His breath; those beings who now claim a speck of hope or a divine hand to scare away the haunting specters forever, the insatiable demons. This never happens and she knows that. The last air held in her lungs can be heard rushing out of her beautiful body. She disappears into the dark. Everything that exists on Earth does shares the same fate. Her death was the strongest and most applauded. The spectators, her witnesses, did not know. By this last act she would be remembered. She, a long time ago, had already known. Exhale.

J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

11.21.09

To Do

“My life is full of little doves”, her father heard her say over the phone, alleviated by the innocent and candid way in which she referred to happiness. The kilometers that mediated their repeated conversations were many and the telephone, since writing was not a habit of theirs, was a synthetic and direct recourse to keep up to date. She hung up the phone and sank her face, pen in hand, in her agenda where dry cleaning, dentist, studying, dinner with friends, shopping, weeping, where rigorously checked off with a sense of asphyxia.

J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

11.16