The ones that did nothing.

Where were we, when war was there?
We were here, we are still here.
I’m afraid, you know, I did only stare
Now I wish I wasn’t far, but I was near.

Now there’s peace, Paul, we should roar
Don’t you see I’m startled?
No more war, whom do you wait for?
For those brothers that fell in battle.


PAAR

Sobre estereotipos

Mañana me despertaré y haré lo que hice hoy y ayer.
El sol estará muy radiante afuera y yo (para los de afuera no tan radiante) aquí adentro leyendo.
Pero:
-¿Leyendo? ¿Por qué? ¿Soy un inadaptado?
-No.
Saldré y me encontraré con un mundo que va y vendrá y que viene y ya fue.
-¿Pero qué hago? ¿Con qué se entretienen los demás? ¿Voy al cine, al teatro, a un museo?
-No.
-¿Por qué?
-Porque no somos unos inadaptados.
-Y entonces ¿Qué hacemos?
-Vamos a ver la tele
-¿De verdad lo deseas?
-No.
-Pues vamos a leer.
-No, vamos a ver la tele.
-¿Por qué? Tú no lo quieres y yo tampoco.
-No me importa, vamos a ver la tele.
-¿Por qué?
-Porque no somos unos inadaptados.


PAAR

Eyes that meet

Solely silence;
Only that nothing more

Sinful seer:
Sought visions of unkept innocence,
Sagacious thoughts of glimpses of life.

Leave the leaf of your life,
In the threshold of mine.
You sinful seer,
See Me in solely silence.


PAAR

3 Haikus by Pablo

Naked you and me:
Perverted reality
Likes our nakedness.



Absolution, now
Redemption was yesterday,
Results; tomorrow.



That bird croons, we live
Wherever we go, he croons
Let us croon with him.


PAAR

Poem to Sinatra

In Vegas he presented
With Dean and Sammy, playing
Singing in the Palms for ever
I wish he’d lived for me to see him.

And when the night comes over
And I play him on my iPod
Lying on my bed I wonder
Who would he now sing for?

Blue Moon, I am not longer alone
His way gets a kick out of me
Strangely, he makes me feel so young
He surely is under my skin

Start spreading the news
He is in Chicago, his kind of Town
Or he’s flying to the moon
And in the Summer Wind I hear him croon.


PAAR

When life was almost in the end, she changed his life.

In a village near Las Vegas, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a rusty rifle, an old uniform, a muscle car from the late forties, and a greyhound for company. This man is an old tired man, he’s in his late eighties and alone, for he had no sons nor daughters and his wife had died some twenty years before due to one terrible disease called cancer. Retired and with no ambitions he spent most of the time in his house either fixing it, repairing his car, or watching the football and drinking some good cold beer. The house of this man was the first of the town. One day a girl came knocking on the door, she was about fifteen and looked quite ragged. She looked burnt by the sun, dehydrated; her hair was long and bushy. She had scratches and stains of blood on her brunet skin. She had come from far away; she was left in the desert alone when she and her illegal immigrant parents had died in a car-crash in one of the loneliest roads in the whole of America. She asked for shelter, for help, for mercy. This man had seen worse things in war and was cold-hearted. He was old, and tired, and really didn’t care about this. If they had crashed in a road so lonely was their fault, they were probably going too fast. But this girl reminded him so much of his long-lost wife, and how when she had needed it, people had denied her help. That moved him, and he decided to intervene. He let her live with him for the next years, he became like a father to her. He helped her to get the citizenship and made her his only heir. One day he died, then, she became governor for the state of Nevada and now this cemetery, in which we are standing, carries his name.

PAAR

Computer crime.

It was quite curious; I had never expected it, well, at least not from him. It was something terrible, yet not so. It was illegal but, as far as it concerned me, it wasn’t bad. But how can I say what’s bad and what’s not? I have been convicted four times, each time with a longer sentence in prison. Some say that my crimes had become more “bloody” and “terrible” every time. I don’t believe them to be terrible nor bloody. I haven’t spilled one drop of blood, been very careful on that matter. In fact, I don’t believe them to be even crimes. But well, “society” thinks different. It is curious how this guy managed to keep such a project undercovered for so long. I’m really amazed. But well, he studied in Cambridge didn’t he? I went to Harvard and couldn’t have done it any better.
Illegal music. What a laugh! They arrested him for that? Was that the excuse
? So childish. Really sounds like a joke. They want to keep it shut for the people; so instead of saying the truth they say illegal download is the reason. But this, this really could have changed the story God is telling about us. Every human being would have been affected. Or not? Who knows I’m only making suppositions. But now the doubt comes: so much benefit this would bring to the world, the justice it might make! Such a project! Should I erase it, delete it? I think not. Or do I? I wonder how many years I will get for this. Lucky me, I got a flash memory. I plug it in one of the many USB ports the computer has. I just click on the icon of the program, Ctrl+X, then open the main directory of my flash memory, Ctrl+V. To be sure that no one else will ever see this but me I pour some petrol over the computer, the bed, the books, TV, couch, door, carpet. Then, boom.

PAAR

Chat with U.

Ok. What should I do? I’m sitting down, here, waiting for something to happen.
-Will it happen?
-No. I certainly hope it won’t.
-Do I?
-I don’t know.
-Do I care?
-No.
-So?
-I don’t know.
-I hate it, you never fuckin’ know.
-Well, that’s my godamn problem isn’t it?
-Yes, but I am you, jerk!
-True, still, I don’t give a shit.
-Ok. It’s up to you. But don’t come asking for help when you need it, ok?
-Oh, come on, the fact that I don’t give a shit doesn’t mean that I want no deal with you. I need you.
-I know you need me.
---------------------------------
-What am I doing of myself?
-If you don’t know I do not know either.
-I didn’t expect you to.
-Why do you ask me then, what are you doing of us?
-I don’t know.
-Why do you never think of us? We are one. We are the same. I’m just something you imagine to distract yourself from the outside world which undoubtedly bores you. I’m not your conscience nor your thoughts. I’m just a voice inside your head that comes and goes as you please. I’m here only to debate with you; I help you with your reflections and actions, that’s it. Outside of you I’m nothing.
---------------------------------
-Look at yourself, so fucking fat.
-I’m not that fat.
-You’re as fat as any human possibly can.
-You exaggerate too much. I’m just, let’s say, chubby.
-No, you’re not only “chubby”, you roll instead of walking.
-Shut up.
-No! Be a man for a moment and face yourself!
-I face myself.
-No you don’t! You’re a pussy and you are not able to look at your problems to the eye! You’re not able even to accept them!
-Well, tell me my flaws then!
-Your appearance for instance, that can easily be changed; you don’t care about your hygiene, your clothing, your body. That ripped shirt you’re wearing, the dirty sneakers, filthy nails, uncut and unwashed hair, you stink and you keep eating that gallon of ice cream you bought twenty minutes ago! You’re in a public place, the mall is not your house and you can’t do as you please. Be clean! Let’s not say for meeting a girl or having a friend, but for simple health!
-Well you’re right on that, what else?
-You are an intelligent man and you take advantage of the others, what makes you a complete asshole.
-I don’t care
-That’s the problem. And as you have said that for all your life there is no point for me to keep telling you your issues.
-Well don’t. I won’t change. This is the way I am and I have no interest in changing. Thank you very much.
-Ok. But you will be the same hideous and terrible person forever.
---------------------------------
-Look at that girl across the street. She’s hot, right?
-Hell yeah she is, smoking hot. Go and hit on her.
-No, I don’t think so. She’s just so... transparent.
-And what a piece o’glass, eh!
-Hahahaha.
-So will you go to her or not?
-I won’t.
-Sissy.
-Respect me, thank you very much, besides it’s a beautiful day and this coffee is excellent, nice chairs and nice view, way to go Starbucks!
-Don’t change the subject. Fuck you and you are a sissy.
-Whatever.
-Look at yourself, you are pity.
-Well that’s my problem.
-It is our problem, you animal. I am you, how many times have I got to tell you?
-A lot. That’s why you exist. That’s why I make you exist. To remind me you are I.
-Shit, that’s bad. Get a friend or something.
-You know as well as I know that I don’t like people. I suck at human relations, and I’m not really interested of being good at it.
-It’s me who you are killing, driving me mad! We need to speak to some other than ourself.
-Ok, tell me to whom shall I speak?
-To that piece of delicious and edible woman over there, damn she’s hot!
-Well but if I fail at it, it will be your fault.
-Fine, but if you succeed it will be my fault also, ok? And if you succeed it’s me who gats laid.
-Fine, there are risks I’m not willing to take but I’ll do in your behalf.
-Thanks, it won’t be overseen in the future.
-Hahaha, OK “Godfather”.
---------------------------------
-My head hurts.
-That’s because you are an idiot.
-What happened?
-You don’t remember?
-No, I don’t. Do you?
-Neither.
-Well we’ve got a problem.
-I know.
-Well, think, what happened?
-I don’t know.
-Make an effort. What happened?
-...
-What happened!?!
-I’m thinking for god’s sake!
-Ok.
-You’re an idiot.
-What? What happened?
-You screwed up with that girl last night.
-Did I?
-Yes imbecile, you already had her, she was here, she was drunk, she was willing, and you idiot started talking about your fuckin’ depressing life.
-What about it?
-What about it! What the fuck about it! You tell me what the fuck’s wrong about it.
-She left right?
-Yes jerk, she got bored and she left!
-Ok ok, I screwed up, I’m sorry you didn’t get laid, so what?
-So what? So fuckin’ what!?! Can you think my friend?
-What do you mean?
-This is the first woman you have contact with in years!
-And that means...
-You won’t have another in years again!
-You are wrong my friend, quite wrong.
-Yeah? Why?
-Because tonight we have, if not made a discovery, at least reaffirmed a theory of mine.
-What theory is that, “Chevalier Dupin”?
-The one that establishes that I can get any babe I want, whenever I want it.
-No you can’t. Last night you couldn’t.
-Yes I did make some errors, but that’s nothing more than lack of practice.
-Is that so? Then, why aren’t you a pimp?
-Because I don’t want to.
-So what the fuck does it matter that you can have any woman you desire if you don’t have any woman at all!
-It does matter, and a lot.
-How?
-It is one gift, or ability, not to sound pompous.
-That doesn’t make it relevant. I’ll give you an example: Intelligence. How is it useful to be super intelligent if you do nothing with it?
-It is not useful at all.
-Well, it’s just the same with your “mo-jo”, have I made my point?
-Unfortunately yes.
---------------------------------
-This a good book.
-Well it is fun.
-Yes it is.
-What is its name?
-Harry Potter.
-You read something that I liked in it.
-Yeah? What was it?
-One of the characters said: "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
-It is nice, yes.
-It is more than “nice”, it is important.
-How?
-I’ll explain: It says that we are what we chose, not what we have. And I would change that to: We are what we do, not what we have. Because in the end what matters is not the decision itself but the action we take on that decision. That’s what matters.
-Well you are right. Yet, if you could illustrate it it’d be much easier for me
-Simple. What you said about that girl the other night, and how you could get any babes you wanted.
-What about it?
-Seriously, are you idiot or what? Think, for fuck’s sake!
-Oh, yeah, now I get it.
-Do you?
-No.
-OK, be patient. Look, you said you had the “ability” just as that Dumbledore of yours says, but your choices-getting drunk, telling your stories, boring her-were wrong, and that is what you “are”, what you chose to do and therefore be, not what you can be.
-You’re right, and though you leave me looking like an idiot, you’re bloody right, mate.
-See! That’s all it is!
-Very simple you might say, but I’m tired of reading.
-Fine.
-Let’s go for an ice-cream.
-You will never fucking change will you?
-No.

PAAR