"Wanderer above the sea of fog"

"Wanderer above the sea of fog" by Caspar David

The end

Masks of wilderness hide its dark side,
while the rest of us contemplate in heavy silence
what awaits us in the afterlife

Electra Complex

Father: This will be the last time, you´ll see me
Daughter: ok
Father: I want you to help me to understand , Why you did it?
Daugther:(smiles) I just did it for the thrill

What beholds after life, I don't know
loneliness and a cold breeze of silence 
We will remain forgotten, until our picture is seen by the stranger again. 
The memory begins.

Bobby

It was the brightest Sunday of April, spring was showing off its colours, smells and sounds.

He woke up at the same time as always 8:00 am; his hands, stained with last nights´ paintings work. He looked at them, a sudden rush of angriness appeared.

His stomach was making weird noises, these sort of noises you hear in scary movies.

He was very hungry, but the sadness and laziness didn’t allow him to even pour some cereal and milk in a bowl; so he drank his favourite morning drink, Beefeater in a plastic cup, a dirty cup that was lying on the floor next to his bed.

Swallow the drink with a sour taste and finally some piece of mind.

Bobby you are all right, why are you sad?

He spoke out loud. His hands were covering his eyes, as if that will make his world disappear and transport him into a better one.

He uncover his face, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, Gin on his hand and a tear running down his face.

The phone rang, too sad to answer. Five times it rang.

Bobby you still feel sad?

He told to himself with a smooth and sweet tone of voice.

After two hours of being in a state of numbness.

Bobby went back to bed, the phone rang, and five times the phone rang and rang.

I will never be un true

She realized that all the pain she once felt, caused by her broken heart, it was finally gone. So she endlessly cried.

Isabel Carvajal

Why us?

Sun is about to rise, a dark red heavy ocean covers my eyes.

The seagulls  are singing over the sea, flying in circles, over and over countless of times, looking for something to eat.

The scenario is gloomy, the mood is dark, cold breeze, and the fog of November strikes the beauty of the beach. The body of a little girl is floating upside down near the shore, floating, lifeless, reaching the blend and soft sand, not to be seen, not to be found. No one is there, no one notice the death of a helpless little girl.

The night was quite and serpentine, everyone was dreaming, someone might be still awake, watching and being doomed by TV.

The teenager awoke in the middle of the night, he wore his leather jacket, and the sound of the zipper seemed louder than ever before.

He walked around his house, looked inside  his parents room, what he witnessed disgusted the teenagers´ mind.

He kept walking down the hallway, just a few more steps, no more, he entered to the second door, a sign was seen, a pink colourful sign. “Rosie”

He looked inside, quite; a thin ray of light from the shiny moon entered through the window.

He stood next to the bed, 3 minutes passed by.

He took a plastic bag and wrapped it around Rosie’s head, she didn't struggle, and she didn't exist anymore. A few tears ran down the teenager´s face.

Softly removed the bag from her head.

Rosie?

-No one respond

The teenager smiled. He dragged the body all the way to the beach.

Her mom and dad woke up. They look at each other.

-Do you feel like it?

The mother nodded. They made love...

Isabel Carvajal

Insane

Heroes

Un héroe,
Los heroes, son seres que constantemente se rebelan y luchan en contra de las debilidades absurdas de nuestra sociedad. Despiertan miedo e inseguridad, decaen.
Son la inspiración de los soñadores y amantes de la vida justa;
con el tiempo un nuevo héroe toma su lugar.

I hide behind a language,
masks of soft smiles and simple lies of "I am fine" help us to fit in.
Who wants to be a burden? 
We are all alright.
Violence, famine, and money are temporary passengers inside our trouble minds.
We are fine
I am fine.

                 Isabel Carvajal

Yo nací feliz, sonriendo
con ese llanto de dolor y de furia
el último eco que quedó
de una vida que ya no es mía.

Isabel Carvajal

Freedom

"Welcome to the land of dreams

Where everything is real

Your the King and I have your Queens".   Isabel Carvajal

Have you seen the stars in the sky?
Can you look down under you feet?
Before your ship sails far away,
save a place to pray and beg,
the impossible to the mighty Man.  Isabel Carvajal

For tomorrow, we hope for a better dawn
We try to resurrect and to be free
As we all die the same way we were born. Isabel Carvajal
 

Write down every morning your wildest dreams and your imagination will come into reality. Isabel Carvajal

Imagina

La imaginación no es un estado: es la existencia humana en sí misma. William Blake

Photo by Mariya Maracheva

Postmodernity

 Endless cycles of materialistic consumption in our society terrified us. Superficial, soulless objects defined our need for wanting more. Isabel Carvajal

2nd Chorus Mexico City Blues

...Wild Men
Who Kill
Have Karmas
Of ill

Good Men
Who Love
Have Karmas
Of dove...

by Jack Kerouac

Flying Song

                                         
    

ART

Psychedelic art by Leif Podhajsky

Echoes of the end

I heard them coming, a sudden giddiness filled my mind, I could count them; it was the devious sound of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse glimmering their beauty, they own the stage.
A revolution has started, an evil asylum with  thousends of rooms of sanity, the end has arrived. Isabel Carvajal

Erase every religion from earth. What we have left oh mighty God? Our freedom, our free will?, and a bunch of pseudo wanna be leaders, easily yielding by power. Isabel Carvajal

Power

Aging

No more beauty so they say;
Have you seen it? how it vanishes with every breath we take?
Our fears, the stains and long gray rivers on our heads,
they marked the time we have spent looking at the reflection that will never change. Isabel Carvajal