Category Archives: Espiritualidad

Orar por el mal

I asked God
if he could take a a second to pardon
that Love
over Hate
So that Evil’s restlessness
come to a rest
so that we may live in peace
then I feared
Satan itself
fear for daring to pray for its soul
i imagined its wrath
I imagined a million specters
haunting me to stop
asking for its sins
feeling God’s reassurance
I desisted a microsecond
(you know how it is when one gets into those qualms)
God is absolute
I doubted inwards
shaking my head
at the binary
that accosts us
Oh Captain my Captain
shall rise
one day
I saw Star Trek
that Roddenberry utopia
soothe my ens
as I stepped onto some autumn leaves on my way
as the hours ticked
after hauling demons criss crossed my existence as I walked on the pavement fearing sudden death
went back
to the daily cocoon
the unforgiving routine

just flesh & bones

Ever notice the age of destiny seems like a by gone era?

There’s no one to blame for your lot

No mysticism behind your feelings

the warning system off

Everyday as routine and regular as the other one

So if I want to be happy I have to produce that

The mighty age of production making

Whatever happened to those days when the unexpected or when destiny awaited every corner of every dawn with unexpected surprises of the what is might to come

Not even death guarantees a surprise these days,

you kick the bucket and hasta la vista baby

The only thing left is change

and that’s slow

like the timeless ages that have come and gone

so we seek solace in the mysticism of other humans

who still believe in a better morrow

because after having rebelled at all the other lies

being flesh & bones doesn’t cut it either

So for me it’s the mornings that do it.

Yet I beat the crap out of it everyday

kill it with a vengeance only to be back here baby, like a Jeremiah.

die neue Religion

Brutal honesty. Dealings with The One.

Of late I have been in a quip about how I conduct thoughts to The One.

Which brings forth another dilemma: Why the Swedes are so adamant about religion. I came to the conclusion, based on their obsession with “truth” that they much rather deny The One as we know Hən to be than to lie to Hən.

Which brings me back to this spiritual dilemma when addressing The One. Honesty. Honesty towards The One. Tis not one thinks of.

The dilemma.

When Addressing The One for favors. Or thanking Hən. To what purpose or end do we address The One for that?

To ward off Evil? The quid pro quo of the everyday? What happens when we fail to keep our end of the bargain?

Hence the illusion of a failed relationship.

Hence the observation that Swedes rather much deny the existence of The One. Is it not much better to rather be one self as one is than to engage in promise making nilly wily?


De-sanctifying The One.

Do we need to sanctify the relationship with The One?

By sanctification I mean this aura of reverence one tends to don ones words when addressing The One. The idea of sanctification, in essence is one of addressing The One in a state of purity. The existence of The One is just that: pureness. An existence that must be protected from Evil. Reverence is as well what one would describe as respect and fear towards The One.

I argue that if we are to progress in a relationship with The One then one must dispense of everything which can corrupt the pureness of the sentient being as it conducts communication with The One. Anything other than oneself is just donning a false self when addressing The One. This can only lead to detrimentalness.

The idea of addressing The One on a one on One basis is cause of serious discussion and furore. But if the communication towards The One is to be all it can be then it must dispense of all other unnecessities.



though our soul be enslaved

by your beliefs

souls dependent on your mercy & promise

feeds on the milk & honey

eats of not bread alone

prays to thine superior

We slave to regain

the freedom we once had

howsoever as it was

tis was ours

So forgive me if I give you the finger

when you appear sanctimonious

full of your God

that we worship together

We yearn the day

When your God comes to pass

As Zeus As Tlaloc

Your legends

As Minotaur As 2012

I shall achieve real spirituality

Free at last Free at last!

You & I

Ashes ask


I don’t really know how much of a Swede I am. I mean, here I am, expressing that in English. I suppose that I can never be a Swede in the physical sense but in the realms of how a Swede is I can say I adhere to their ways. Comportment, attitudes, certain values and manners to name a few aspects of the sentient parameters of the Swedish ens are indeed well ingrained in my constitution.

It’s hard to explain. Perhaps am not even that assimilated but I adjust my manner of being to theirs so as to smoothly transit through their existential flow. After all, the old adage of When in Rome do as the Romans do applies because in order to be able to be in the midst of the culture one has to bend internal rules of behaviour to conform to local customs.

Yet this is only when I interact with Swedes. Am I Swede in other situations that don’t require the presence of a Swede to monitor my Swedishness?

That is the crux of the matter. Hence my conundrum. Do I conduct myself in a Swedish manner outside the influence of the physical Swede? And is there an example of it so that I can postulate it here?

I suppose that I could argue that in order to be able to be ready I must practice before hand any given situation that might arise. I must prepare dialogue before it even happens. But that still doesn’t give evidence of quiddity.

I suppose that the best evidence I can give is by denial. By affirming that which I am not. I am not Mexican when I walk the forest. I am not Xicano when I suppress my interior emotions, when I hold in check that which I would otherwise do. I am not American when I control my voice so as to not give hint of emotions. All this in order to fuse with my milieu so as to fluently as possible, not disturb the environment.

That’s when I am a Swede at best.

Como dicen en mi país: Calladito te miras más bonito.



Se nos acerca el 2/11

El extranjero. La muerte. Sus costumbres; aquí, allá. Qué más da.

Tiempos de sentir – así ese alguien fuese tu madre quien feneció.

Ahora morir es un mero proceso protocolario. Una serie de procesiones documentadas.

Siempre sorprende la reacción Luterana. Esa reacción Utilitarania irresistible. En sueco dicen que alguien har gått ur tiden, es decir, que alguien se ha salido del transcurso del tiempo. Para una persona como yo, ese tipo de expresión me parece un tanto insensible.

¿qué es lo irresistible?

Esa idea de que todo caduca. Aceptación ante ello. Esa inclinación de rodillas ante lo inminente.

Creo que los Luteranos se ríen de la idea de que hay una vida más allá de la que los católicos creen, en un aquí incomprensible para un católico enfrascado en un ayer y sus rituales, letanías y quimeras.

Sea de lo de cada quien es impresionante, siempre. Ver la reacción de un buen luterano ante la muerte, ese proceso de aceptación de que todo tiene un propósito y un fin inevitable de que todo uso caduca, es inquietante por la cruda verdad y realidad que presenta en su interpretación de hechos.

Así pues las relaciones entre los familiares nórdicos. El tiempo lleva su curso y el curso su tiempo.



La bestia within

Learning to be responsible about one’s own sexuality, now, those are ethics which can’t be beat.

After 2 some thousand years, let’s agree that an ethics about sexuality are in order.

Let’s cut the crap about animalistic sexuality.


The animalistic theory about human sexuality doesn’t hold anymore. It’s time to confer responsibility where it’s due: the modern individual.

Is it unreasonable to ask of us to be aware of our most basic instincts? I think not. If humanity is to move forward then we need to exact of it a responsibility long relegated to a protean beast.

We must face the beast in the eye and say you are no longer in control it is I which is.

Thus the astronomical feat.





Dies Cinerum

in partibus infidelium (“nelle terre dei non credenti”)

Días como este solo logran remontarme al pasado, un pasado que me da alegría y nutro las buenas vibras con ella el presente. Hoy es miércoles de ceniza. Recuerdo como salíamos de la iglesia, nosotros, los desalmados, con la mancha negra característica del ritual católico como signo de la caducidad de la condición humana; como signo penitencial y como signo de conversión. Todo era perdonado. Claro, eso no lo sabía, pero recuerdo con cruda nitidez que hasta los más acérrimos rencores de la gente contra nosotros se tornaba en una mirada de aceptación por solo llevar la ceniza plasmada en la frente.

Nosotros los desalmados del barrio, y sí que lo éramos, y hoy en día, ni quién me viere el santo que presumo llevar a flor de piel, pesa. Dicen que mala yerba no muere pero quizá sí. En fin, como extraño esas costumbres, y pues eso, que extraño llevar la ceniza en la frente.


Las fantasías de mi dipsomanía son realmente insoportables. No porque no puedan ser realizables sino por la labor que implican y la frustración que acarrean. Bajo los espíritus etílicos todo es romántico y un dulce sueño de alcanzar lo inimaginable. La cruda realidad, sin embargo, tuerce ese mundo onírico en un mundo surreal y no hay mundo surreal en este paraíso terrenal que no sucumba ante la sobria crueldad de un día ordinario. Henos así cuando pienso en ti. Uno se preguntaría y cuestionaría los mandatos del todopoderoso.



There isn’t anywhere to run/ Except to shun/ I convince myself that grateful ought I be/ So much good / be it all false? pops into my head/ playing games/ remaking emotions/ swirling left and right/ until asunder rendered is the I/ I see you/ I question my emotions/ what is it that makes me feel for you?/ I am not ready to meet you nor see you eye to eye/ then why do I insist in wanting to see you?/ Why  look with my sight for you?/ Voyeurism/ this warm sensation burning deep in me/ who will replace this great emotion?/ who will come along to rapture me like you have? / you are a mystery indeed/conflicting emotions; you and my solitude consume the very fibre of my ens/as if the universe is conspiring to mock me or to taunt me/ do you understand what I mean?\On the one hand my solitude and yearning for company and on the other your very being -wantingbutnotwantingyou-making itself present in my soul when I did not even ask for it/ for that matter I did not ask for solitude yet there it is: & the crux/learning to accept both as natural phenomena.

Por lo menos tengo la seguridad de haber aprendido algo aunque sea por un instante y eso es aceptar lo que lo que siento por tí como una sensación hermosa. Perdóname por no hacer nada al respecto, sé que es un crimen del cual no hay perdón. Y es que si comprendes veras que no lo hago porque mi vida está hecha trizas cual rompecabezas. Mucho tendrá mi autoestima por igual, qué cobardía, no luchar por esa sensación. Sé de antemano que no no te gusta que piensen en tu dirección y créeme cuando te digo que ni siquiera me aliento en pensar a que esto sea una oración. Pero te doy las gracias por existir y hacerme sentir la vida vibrar dentro de mi como tenía tiempo que no lo hacía. Sé que tengo posibilidad de enamorarme y quizá sea esa la lección a aprender. Aceptar lo que provocas en mi como una señal de vida y lo que está por venir.