A short bio_Junkies

“Thanks for offering me to stay with you under the bridge, man… but I’m going rooftop with my girl tonight.”

 

All junkies seem to have a certain certainty. They seemed to have certain superiority. I don’t know if the pride comes from a sense of knowing something that the others don’t or a forced necessity from lack of it. Even when they lie, they lie so honestly. It’s like in the house of justice when you see the man in charge going in and out of the room of justice without a single change in their expression whereas their family would cry or shout according to the verdicts of the judge.

 

“He is to be remained in custody until the 25th July.”

 

“Oh my… it’s day after his birthday!”

 

Cracks and browns were reserved for the junkies and junkies were reserved for the foolish, uneducated, nameless crowds. The police told me that it’s dangerous to be here and asked me what I did. I told them that I was a university student. The woman police enlarged her eyes wide open and asked “So what are you doing down here?” But then again it’s not just the police. Even Monic told him off saying, “Why did you bring Cha here?”

 

I remember liking what I used to call “the coke sleep” It’s when I would have trains of images from the real life (in front of me) passing by as an assemblage of strong but unusual images. The images were not telling as to foretelling. I would use these images to have some positive impacts on the reality. We would be in a waste factory – like place with the sounds of electricity just next. I’d say something like “Let’s imagine that we are at the waterfall or at a riverside or something.” because the sounds of electricity to me were like water falling.

 

He would say “Listen to the various languages of stones, walls, shops and dogs then when you don’t hear them anymore, that’s when you write.”

 

He had a body like what I would say Siddhartha; a long and thin but boned body.

Poem_2012

Hard to breathe

For different reasons

Muddy water muddy sky

Quinoa for lunch

Potato for dinner

There is no salt on the table

There is no salt in the air

But only Mapacho smokes swirl

There is a stoned Buddha on the floor

People start chanting

Various

Sounds of wind

Sounds of Icaros

Green lines move from left to right

Then, some blues and reds

There is a man

This man follows me

His body is seen

But where is his head?

There is more than one man

They are coming towards me

They have torches in their hands

I want to get up and see

But my body’s immovable

Must be someone up there

I feel it’s staring at me

Then the fear disappears

That’s only after seeing what it was

Or have I chased it off from my own fears?

It is getting cold

Someone is crying

I force myself some cold splashes

They say a tree has 1500 different spirits

Everyone gathers around

We smile to each other

And hold each other’s hands

Everyone’s in need

In need to be here and now

Let’s swim in the river of floating leaves

Able to breathe better

Carbon dioxide is necessary for plants

There is enough in the air

We need oxygen that plants produce

Nu says he was left at the jungle when he was only 15

He had to live next to the tree for 5 years

He had to eat the whole tree

Then he is the tree

Butterflies do not regenerate when broken

But they still fly and fly

Hard to say goodbye

My timidity reflects his

We will meet again

We will meet again