Para llegar a tu alcoba

Pues parece que mi maestra de historia del arte le va bien en auqello de escribir ...bueno, realmente me gustó, si quieren ver más vayan a www.tualcoba.com , no están todos pero hay algunos y bonitos.. Ella se llama Laura Ortíz.

Soy una mujer que un día, se ató las manos con listones azules para olvidar como acariciar
que dejó sus pinceles, su libro de magia, y su corazón escondidos
olvidando donde los había dejado.

Y viví sin sentir, pero viví
callando
sin tocar ni ser tocada
pero viví así
con el ronroneo de mi gato.

Así callé lo que creí ya no sabía cómo decir
así me acostumbré al azul y perdí los rojos...
donde dejé mis pinceles, mi corazón y mi libro de magia.

Un día llegaste a mi vida azul
con una sonrisa me devolviste los rojos
con tu mirada me atravesaste el alma devolviéndome la magia.

Y te apoderaste entonces de mis sueños y mis miedos
para llegar a tu alcoba me quité los listones azules
para sentir te entregué mi corazón
pero todavía tengo miedo de usar los pinceles.

...

I've been dreaming in blue
Lately, my world seems turned
and days have been dragging on
I just can't wake up
my body is numb
I 've had coffe
but unlike normal days
everything's still a blur
The sun is gone,
sent its best regards and left
I should crack a smile for that
The moon is still around
wamer than before if I should add
My soul is cold
Care to take a hold?
i can't believe how hard it is
to ask for something you know I need
I told you before and yet
you come and go as you please.
Why would you do that?
You're so scare...
you really should take a break.

Orange Sky

I must confess
Out of my pride that
In this night
With its beautiful black
There is a shade of red
High up in the sky
This bridge has burned
And with it,
I burned standing on.
As long as there is blood in the veins
And this blood runs through its highways
And friction causes shame
There will be fire.
Its better this way
Letting go before,
There’s anxiety and nerves
Breaking heart
Threatening life
Daring dreams with out explanation.
I’d say I’m sorry
But I haven’t really found the words
What will happen then?
I can feel a river becoming an ocean inside me
The feelings, pieces of heart drowning
Floating
Its ok, Im already hanging at the wall.
Screams form in my throat as
Nails dance on the surface of endless backs
Scratch! Fall! Go!
Turn your face
Look away
Detach
There’s never enough time
You’ll fall next.
With a smile, you’ll fall next.
With a smile, everything breaks.

Pic by me.

Tarde de películas

Dos pelis buenísimas, bueno, según yo.
La primera, 1933, Desing for Living, con Gary Cooper.
Y más o menos de los mismo pero muy diferente, A home at the end of the world, sale Colin Farrel y está linda.

De la primera-
Tom Chambers: That's one way of meeting the situation. Shipping clerk comes home, finds missus with boarder. He breaks dishes. It's pure burlesque. Then there's another way. Intelligent artist returns unexpectedly, finds treacherous friends, both discuss the pros and cons of the situation in grownup dialogue. High-class comedy, enjoyed by everybody.
George Curtis: There's a third way. I'll kick your teeth out and tear your head off and beat some decency into you!
Tom Chambers: Cheap melodrama. Very dull.


Y de la segunda-
Clare: Is there anything you can't do?
Bobby Morrow: I can't be alone

'Cause family matters the most...

She wonders. She remembers and sees that it all had an excuse. At the top of the last page she feels tears coming out. This is real. This is pain. This could happen.
And she hates herself. She doesn’t know why. The image is so clear, she has seen the future and this is it. It hurts. The 5-minutes- ago heated chicken in getting cold and by now, forgotten. Peas are green on white. She cries.
The music coming out of the speakers has lost its place, her ears are numb, she gets up, and with a quick step goes to the stairs. She runs up, her mind still trembling, maybe it’s because she just saw it, but the sharp image of a blade comes to mind. Not a cutter, a letter opener. White. Silver. She keeps her pain in a chain.
The room is dark, with out looking she hits the lights. Walks to the bathroom, puts her hand on the wall and falls. She’s 15 again. She’s 5 again. She can’t look at the mirror, that would only make it worst. Close your eyes and forget the world.
This isn’t a book, she thinks, this is real, focus on real. It will go away. She comes back. Stands up and looks at herself. Eyes: red, face: red. Take a breath, hold your lungs until you run out of tiny pieces to break. It hurts.
Rituals…
It was real. She remembers now; that letter, what it meant, how she felt. And she laughed. She asked but she just laughed. She asks herself with the primal instinct that comes with beta ones
- Would she really leave me?-
It was so real. She’s seen the future and now the future shines.
In that faithful day. One day. It won’t be like that. Four dress in white, a ribbon for each, four small bags. Each one helping the other, there is always something to run from. Family matters the most. Something to run to.

She comes down, face washed, flashing smile. Everything is normal. Sits down and writes. She wonders…

Hablando de diseño

Guitar
Originally uploaded by ©opy®ight.

Yo quiero hacer eso!! No les encanta?

Carve your name into my arm..

As I trace paths of ink in your skin,
I know,
I could carve so low
To feel my words within touch
Eyes closed,
Hands close,
There’s nothing here to see.
I often wonder what it is
This feeling of being complete
There is light all around
Blinding sometimes.
There’s fire here
I’m walking on dangerous grounds
And the bridge’s about to burn.

Creo que me arruiné el final

Para telefilos, amantes de videos armados y de Snow Patrol.... jejeje tmb para romanticones y creo uqe les va a gustar.

Listen to the polar

Algunas veces pienso que de todo lo que hay por allá afuera, lo pequeño que somos nosotros es impresionantemente asfixiante!
Estaba en clase hoy, y mi maestro dijo “sus vidas, sus romances, sus historias y cosas que tengan que decir, no son impresionantes. Son sólo un punto más de vista, y a nadie le interesa”.
Y me puse a pensar, y decidí que esta cosa, los blogs, suelen ser sólo eso, un pequeño lugar donde poner lo que cada quien piensa. Aquí están cosas que nadie sabe de mí, claro sólo el que lee esto. Cosas que están tan adentro que, bueno, son Yo. Son lo uqe me hace ser la persona que soy.
Estaba hablando con un amigo, y resulta que ahora soy alguien misterioso. Y pienso, otra vez. Si es como dices, y cada vez estoy dando algo de mí, ¿será posible quedarme vacía? Y, si este lugar es una llave a mí, ¿tengo que dársela a cada persona uqe conozca para que vean que no soy una pesada?
¿es posible dar demasiado de ti, sin dejar algo para ti mismo? ¿qué creen?
Se me olvido lo que quería decir, pero era importante. Saludos desde el lugar que no existe y sin embargo, está lleno de ego y de palabras narcisistas que se expresan talvez, sólo talvez, para el propio beneficio.
¿En realidad importa? Si quererse a uno mismo un poco y de vez en cuando está mal, yo soy culpable y merezco la guillotina.
Care Bears to all, =)

Where do you go, then?

You ask where do you go?
I answer I don’t know
You say when you go!!
I don’t know

I’ve started thinking about it
Even if the thought makes me sick inside

Sometimes I wonder
And with wonder begins the ring of lies
I would say a lovely place
With flowers with out fragrance
And endless silver like lakes

Where music plays as simply as cold wind
And there is nothing wrong with me
Being this way has no complication
Believing what I do is out of being questioned

There is usually light, yet sometimes
Its so dark I cant see beyond my nose
I let my finger tips lead the way
And still, being the one sense in me that works
I can’t really trust it, not tomorrow and not today

I’d like to be sure that this is how it works
That my mind is supposed to be filled with their voices
That this is normal and
They wont go away – I would sure miss them-

I’ve made up my mind, for the drama it brings
If Alice were real, this is what she would have seen.
There is no sense in crying in shouting in trying
Neither it is in making excuses for this
Heaven forbids… I’ll never understand

If I could only be sure of one thing
If I could forever … there is no forever
If traces of ink could slide form my fingers every time
Maybe, perhaps, I wouldn’t mind saying it aloud

I am a stranger in my own skin
And it is my skin that wishes to feel
There is so much no one has seen
If only there was a hand close enough to reach

I’ve begun to repeat myself
Inside and out, I’ve realized
There really isn’t much new to say
Only different words to express the same

I guess that’s how it is
Where ever I go either way
If I have nothing new to say
I could stay quiet forever.

Fotitos!!!

la familia de por allá con todo y nena. Cro uqe no tengo una foto de los 3 hermanos desde hace tiempo.



Me subí esa cosa!! está realmente alta.











Un bonito atardecer en las montañas jajjaa










Una ardilla... proximamente,un cuervo!!








El lago Louise








Lago Bow, no sé, pero me encantó esta foto.









Y claro, el glaciar....





Los Osos de Vancouver





En mis fachas en una nevería que tiene 218 savores.. no estaba muy buena la que yo comí, y eso que era de vainilla...

Solía ser densa y fría
dejada atrás como a un despercicio
una concecuencia a una acción
sólo estaba.
No podían tenerme por mucho
-me derretía-
mas podían arrojarme
n podían tomarme y guardarme
daba temor al desbarrancarme

tanto fue de mí, que ahora soy dura
se puede caminar sobre mí, y no me romperé
los que están no me conocen
y menos lo que hay dentro de mí.

he camiado tanto,
de piel y color y dentro de mi me he transformado
mi química se ha desarrollado.
Sé que sólo soy un reflejo

Los días de calor han venido
el mundo ha girado y yo, en lugar de resistirme
con él he girado, he ido.

creo uqe soy ahora una parte más franca de mí,
de todo lo uqe fui
corro, ahora, transparente y fría

entre piedras y troncos he caídos
he encontrado mi lugar
de noche reflejo a las estrellas
y su luz me ha agregado
un brillo difícil de igualar

puedo ser violenta, mas entre caudales
encuentro fortaleza
la tranquilidad y la calma uqe vienen de la tormenta
me dejan descanzar,
para luego, seguir corriendo.

Sé que llegará el Sol,
y de nuevo me quemará
m convertiré en mí propio fantasma
invisible pero existente
y de nuevo seré nieve
seré hielo
seré agua.

Who Knows

So… you’ll always remember, right?
And… you’ll never forget, right?

Cause n these lonely days
With its threatening and silent nights
I feel like jumping.
The edge is calling, and I
With a broken smile
An unchanged frown
Looking away – all the way-
The floor feels like home.

Made out of stardust and diluted salt
Emptied of liquid
Taken by spirals of air
We’ll become dust again
We’ll be a part of the universe again.

Concrete and dust, and a pint of blood.
We’ll shine all the way down;
Flaming, burning, like shooing stars.

I feel like screaming and babbling and keeping quiet.
Leaving the heart on stage
And going back to being
The audience to which I now play.

I guess I’d rather know now.
I wouldn’t ask, but I eats me up inside.

Will I be even remembered?
When nights are dark or when clouds pass by.
When a tree falls down or
Berries turn from green to color
Will there be words for me in your sleep?
Cause I can’t keep quiet…

I remember and giggle and words make sense when spoken right.
And you seat at my right, while he is to my left
And he waits in the back… in my head in all makes sense.

I start listening to music
Songs subtle as a current
Chords, invisible, dancing around
Heavy and woody words all in my head.

Sunshine has come and gone
Mountains have stepped between it all
Even birds have crossed, to my ear
They’ve sang their songs
But even clouds stay and wait
Their patience to be acclaimed
They hold till the end,
They stay when everyone has gone home.