JACK RAIF

Random Poem June 12

2007-06-12T13:53:00.000+08:00

Sunshine creeps in
an unwanted visitor
pray to end a start
no night or day can't create a laugh
lips for so long have been a straight line.

Her flesh attracts my desire
but not a simple smile comes from it,
Desire, as Buddah says, is suffering,
Desire,
think of it deeply again and again,
is the source of all our sins.

I breath, exhale the past, inhale the future,
Stop for death, desire my friend,
life is but desire... no, that is an illusion,
life is but images... no, that is but an expresion,
life is suffering... yes she says, life is but desire, and again and again
until you feel sick and start following the path,
the bright source,
enigmatic, but harsh and hard....
I do not understand why would you create us if everything was so much pain,
Siddhartha, If I follow the path will I stop being human?
What is passion but desire?

I am a simple man and thus do not understand
does that makes me a bad man
darkenned by a night past
by silver pentagrams and idealistic visions of glory
I desire good and if so I desire bad?
Sunshine creeps in,
leave us,
no need to start what eventually will end
Static and away, I slowly fade.

2007-06-10T13:27:00.000+08:00

I remember the poetry scene in Beijing back in November 2005. The excitement every wednesday to read, to hear Effe, Bob, Josh, Bai Wei and Zhou. A hip crowd used to hang around back then, you see things in every beginning are good... I also remembered the first time I read in the Bookworm, I was so tense and thought to myself "who am I to read poems in this place am just a wanna be who knows some rhymes, some schemes..." I read my first poem, my hands were trembling with soberness... applause, then it was Sarah's turn to read so I gulped down three beers and watch her performance... no fear. She had no fear expressing all her deep sentiments to the crowd, not hiding... no fear of being scared. That is how a poet/artist should be... not giving a fuck.. just saying what you have to say and that's it.

Then Effe. His poetry... it's fun, intellectual, hip and smooth but it always has a kick to itself, it always ends up amazing you, if it didn't you would see him deppressed about it, in a bad mood, but damn! He was good. A blackman will always have the rythm but he had it all.

Josh's poetry was not to much of my liking in the beginning, not because they were bad, but because I liked other stuff, I like rythm, I like rhyme, I like easy to understand, I like right in your face... but somewhere between our relationship I understood I didn't understand his points of view and didn't try, I regret that, as there are many things that I regret from myself during the scene in those days. I must say that there was one style of his poetry I really dig in the beginning, his sex poems.

Zhou and me were basically poets who wrote in english, english being our second language. He has style and raw determination, passion which you can feel in every verse and as time went on he got some really cool poems that turn on the crowd. Wonder where he is right now?

Bob, well he is the one who got us together. I remembered once I told him his poetry was smoothly hip and creative... he answered me "I'm not sure I want them to be that.." I learned a lot from him... He was smooth on the mic, with a cool calmness to his voice, with his searching eyes over the crowd, with a cigarrette on his hand... no shaking hands, not like me.

During the next months joinned Ivonne, Benjamin, Derek, Deep Sleep and a lot of poets that I don't remember their names.

Soon more about the Subterranean turned to driftwords story....

Jack.
P.S. the first poem I read there:

SMOKING

Inhale.

I like to smoke, and I choose my right to smoke freely, to have a drink and a smoke, a fuck and a smoke, a bad day and a smoke, a good day and a smoke, after a good meal, a smoke.

Exhale.

And I know I’m closer to death after every smoke,

But you don’t need a smoke to be closer to death,

You want to talk about public health?

About how the government kills the poor,

With the proliferation of industries that pollute the streets where they live,

About the use of PVC, cause, um, you think it’s cheap,

But it’s a menace to our health, especially if it’s burned,

But it doesn’t stop there, it slowly kills mother earth.

You want to talk about how the big nations dump their shit on small nations then make international agreements about environmental regulations that as much as small nations would like to comply they can’t, cause they don’t have the money, or the resources, or the knowledge to abide, and the cheap things they dump is a necessity of life in a third world country like mine: to have, to die, or to buy. And I’m talking about expired food, medicines, vaccines, condoms, and some other shit we buy without the knowledge of the real expiration time.

But it’s not only the government that threatens your health,

Lets talk about yourself,

About the food you buy,

Vegetables with insecticide, various goods with a whole lot of preservatives, drinks that can be used to clean batteries, food with so much calories, doughnuts, twinkies, wieners, hamburgers, burritos, t.v. dinners, fried chicken, mayonnaise and Cheerious?

About your way of life,

Cars: air pollution. Electricity: air pollution. Cel phones: radiation. Microwaves: radiation. Computers: radiation. Canned food: pollution. Books: deforestation.

EVERY COMMODITY CONTRIBUTES TO YOUR ANNIHILATION.

And you want me to stop smoking. Please!

Why don’t you stop cutting down the trees, polluting the water streams, killing endangered species for private needs, or better yet find some efficient alternative energy, and why don’t you find the cure for cancer, or aids, or depression, or shut down Mickey D., KFC, Dairy Queen ( now we are talking about helping the public with their health), or educate the public about how nuclear power could really help the environment, about how the big Petroleum Industries wouldn’t like that to happen, about solar energy, why don’t you legalize drugs and put an end to so much blood.

Why do you mind me smoking when there is so much to be done?

Jack Raif

2007-06-05T11:34:00.000+08:00

I'm so glad to see you... I've missed so much... It's so good to see you...

I feel the sky is falling and while it shatters to the ground my ears grow deaf to your agonizing scream. I feel the sky is nothing but just an illusion of what really is up there. I feel the sky has its own master and plans to sell us diamonds that apparently are up there... might be that everything that is that high is just an affront, an offense to our height.

I don't want the sky anymore, I want my life and be able to do with it what I want. Decide where to go, what to smoke, what to say, where to live. But clearly the sky has a plan, for you, for me, for everybody... can I decline and redesign any plan that you have written for me... you know? I like to have the last word on everything concerning me.

About my life... I miss my Dad. I hope he is ok. We are so far apart... and I am still not prepared to go back.

About my life... I miss the people I've met along the way... they have left, but I can feel they will soon come back.

About my life... I will make my words tumble walls and create a world for me to be king.

About my life... why dont you just drop me a line?

Jack

2007-05-30T09:25:00.001+08:00

And then there was Sun Wu Kong. The Monkey King.

If you like Chinese Literature you know who he is; one of the most important characters in Journey to the West and the most beloved mythical creature in all china. I think there is no book richer in symbolism, political comflict, philosphy, poetry, religion and historical happennings crammed in together in to a fantasy novel (maybe, perhaps, The Aztec). But then, I haven't read Three Kingdoms or Dream of Red Mansion. Those will have to wait because after the six tomes of Journey to the West and after I read Lu Xun's The True Story of AQ.

I love the Monkey King because he was born from a stone, the moon as his mom the sun as his dad, wild as nature, soul of a child, directly honest, you know? My kinda guy. I love specially the scene where he creates havoc in heaven, drinking all the heavenly wine, all the elixir pills (Aren't Gods glorified Junkies?) the Inmortality giving peaches, and so on... and then all the freaking Gods try to beat the living shit out of him, but you know, the monkey is the man! And Blam!!! He kicked everybodies asses.... it was only the great Buddah who could control the damned monkey, he said, if you can jump out of my right hand an come back I will give you what you want... bleh.. you find out the rest by yourself.

There is so much to it, how the author uses animals to simbolize certain gods or political figures, to represent so complex relationships as hegemony, feudalism and such. The most important and central part is the historical part, the pilmigrige from a monk of china to go to india in search of the sriptures of Buddah to copy them and bring them. It is said that the journey took 18 years.

Monkey is perfect but Pig is more human.... grab a good translation of the book and enjoy....

J.

2007-05-18T11:52:00.000+08:00

Looks. Never blinks. Moves both of his open hands from side to side signaling his concern towards a situation when suddenly he stops, raises his legs and slam its to the ground at the same time moving his head to the side. But the music is the enhancer of the movements, of each action, of each expression.

What do I feel when I see 京剧 ? I just let my imagination flow and let the tones mix with the action to creat an inmense universe of peace and awe.

I only have one suggestion for Beijing Opera in these era, specially if its filmed, the lack of innovation from the camera men makes the acrobatics and face expresions of the actors dull. The sound system used to record the music is badly equalized. I wish I could help, but Im not sound engineer nor do I posses the mula to make cultural projects like this.

I just ask one question of thee, don't judge something you don't understand and don't say you don't like if you don't know the cultural baggage that hangs upon it.

Jack.

2007-05-09T13:28:00.000+08:00

Talked to my friend from Iceland today, set to have Beijing KaoYa tomorrow night. Send an email to my friend from Portland who is now in Hawaii told him he is missing the best weather in Beijing, called my baby told her I miss her, flick on the flick flack and turned my head to the umbillical chord that connects me with the center of the universe and set my dreams to kiss the night space chaos sky... Oh... am liking the events, maybe the events are not liking me, but sometimes you just have to give a fuck. I miss my bottle of baby milk vodka and puffing on my green cigarrettes. Dull isn't it? Life pleasures are the malicious little things that torture you in the future. For all I care, at this moment, is to lay down in 朝阳门公园 listenning to good old floyd in plain afternoon and at sundown listen to Reflection by Tool , I would then want to head out to the Bed and Tapas Bar and get stoned drunk on wiskies and 雪花 arrive home and sleep on her arms till the next day. It would be great if no hangover would come from this, but lets be realistic in this unrealistic dream.

I went to 吉林市for the May holidays and got to meet my woman's family. I also had the opportunity to visit, see and touch (myself, am kidding!) the meteor that fell there in 1976 when Mao died. Peculiarly enough it happen the same night of his death. Have you ever touched (yourself?Just kidding again!) something from outter space? The only thing I could describe when I touched it its the coldness. I will try to post the pictures soon, just have to get time to do so!

Next a poem:

PO E TREE

Like a mother to a son. The first glance, the look of God, when upon his first breath the pain of a world that he will hate to live but be scared to leave. And the mother, excited, her heart explodes into millions questions and hope and suffering and concern and what did you she call that? Pure altruistic love. Sudenly time and space collides and in a magnitude unexplainable in human language existence desist to exist, for death and life are the same thing and to be born and to die is the beginning and the end at the same time, and you know where am going, its all the same shit different day as one great poet used to say.

Poet Tree

And it grew from a seed fertilized by all the shit our society eats then defecates and most poets they seem not to grow out of that quantity of manure but some of them remember that real poetry cannot be written if first it is not felt, if you can write from the pit of your guts and transform those emotions into words it doesn’t matter how much fucks cunts and cocks you use in it, it will always be

Poetry

I was in a taxi a few months ago and I saw them, two kids, ages, maybe 6 and ten, outside on a corner of a street, their clothes talk of no money, their bodies of no food, but their faces,

Happiness of the poor is the truest of them all a smile for no reason than the reason we should all be happy for, for beign alive and being loved, God caressed their existence while merrily playing with the cups to beg money, dirty face, dirty eyes and all the dirty that their life might be full off, no worries but a smile, and shame and a tear felt from my eyes, who am I to complain, about life when I can say I pefectly have it all…

Poet and Poetry

I see the nigth sky turn to day as lightning bewildered my eyes, day turn to night as the moon encountered the sun and they started making love, and I seen in a bar two midgets drinking a pint happily drunk after the third round, and I have seen unicorns and dragons and giants and dwarf when Im happily stoned, I have seen tenderness, evil and spoke to too many people and am convince that in every art, in every song, in every sky, in every star, in every sport, in every job, there might not be poets or they may not be a poet but alas there is always

Poetry.

2007-04-18T19:08:00.000+08:00

Times are changing. Oh yes they are. But that is the only thing that changes. Take note. If you see the big picture called life, all generations has the same virtues, all generations have the same fault. It's just our lack of vision that doesn't let us see what in the past we have done and compare it objectively with the times we didn't exist. So in the beginning man invented the wheel, then invented the charriot, then the car, then the airplane and though all are means of transportation we all think they differ from one another because shapes are not the same, because it was back then and now things are just not equal. Bullshit. Since the beginning man has had the same mission. Finding out what is our mission. So we created religion, science, methaphysics, spiritualism, drugs to search, to try to find a meaning in it all. But we haven't found it... yet. If we ever do then we will not be man but some strange mix of universal affairs and God only knows how are brain will turn out to be.

More than six UFO sightings in China and the world sleeps. Seen by more people than ever, openly in big cities. Here, they don't beleive in God so there is no conflict with showing was actually up there. More than six UFO sightings and the world seems not to care.... or maybe thats their power... or maybe they know that by now we don't really care about them.

I pull my sheets closer to me. The nights are cold and I work hard to make not so much. I hear my friend calling to go out for the drink that we used to drink. I read the messages inciting me to read the poems I have been writing in my mind. I miss all of it... but times are changing, only that, I'm still trying to find the meaning, yes, the meaning of it all.

Jack.

2007-04-05T15:24:00.000+08:00

The morbid winter is dying giving birth to the luscious spring with all its sex, euphoria and love. The amazing blue sky eats beijing up in mouth full of winds, the sweethearts walking hand in hand in the streets, Hutongs alive at night with people dancing, the old men chatting. Seasons change, but its still a new world for this boy who only knows two seasons: dry and rainny.

I moved to 朝阳门 some weeks ago, my life has been changing drastically for the last few months. A new haircut, a new life, I've been teaching new tricks to the old dog.

When you are afar from what you used to call your world, between now and then, here or there the heart becomes a sea of melancholly, a nation of thoughts, the majestic sun teaching what it is and what it is not and it makes you want to lay your head in clouds or reasurrance, it just wants to stop, one beat at a time until peace strolls in leaving you time to sleep, for him who lives in a dream, in a poem, a story, who lives free does not wish nothing than just the sleep. Yeah, forget about the dream.

When you are afar from the world you used to call yours, you are a stranger not only to the people here or back home but to yourself and the one you can only rely is the one that loves you and that you love.

Bleh... dont feel like writing anymore...

2007-03-14T09:14:00.000+08:00

Today, I will learn not to care, to blank my emotions and erase my ego, to not want and to not perceive the evil that burdens the soul of the people that sorround me. I will float in that phrase that have for ever forsaken me "Ignorance is bliss, ignorance is bliss....", ignorance is shit, but better happy than sad, right?

Today I will let you do what you want, I will not transmit my ideas or emotions, I will enclose my heart in a box and keep all my feelings a secret from a world that only cares about themselves but not about others. I will strangle words of agonizing pain with silence, for today you might think that others hold the candle, but I am the sun, and therefore am of infinite source, and God is the universe.

To feel less when actually am more will not matter, because today I will learn not to care.

2007-03-01T14:03:00.000+08:00

Que los sentimientos son algo tan delicado como los colores de un arco iris, algo tan abstracto como la magia, aquella que suele ser ese puñal invicible que te clavan en la sien y en el corazon, pero al cual como un perro que ha sido maltratado por su amo, a el, siempre regresas... a esos sentimientos de los cuales TU no tienes el control.
I feel the calling of my art. I know, though, the troubles and dark omens it comes with it. But my hands have the proof that I'm destined for something great. Still, am scared of losing the one I got. The fucking calling, if you have it in you, you know what Im talking about. I cant tell the people that sorround me about it, they wouldn't understand, they wouldn't know what it demands of me.

Feeble mind
anti mind
Desintegrate mind
What are you talking about
boneless beheaded one,
did did I feel feel
as stone under water
Yes, the cold sweat of an afternoon watching ghosts stumbling through their crevices
Those mighty intelectuals can't figure it out.
Soul I say, Spectrum their mouth mimics,
and I run through white doors and turn myself into black cycles
and keep searching for you when I dont need to search no more
Fuck, I say I hate, those words when we can't find the same definition,
Love, yes, all are four letter words, and and and but they are not, so what?
Do I need three letter words on my relations? Assosiations? Encarnations?
I say no! Can't you just accept me as what I am, fucked up, dark, and lost...
Hope for the future that comes.

Jack Raif

2007-02-25T22:16:00.000+08:00

What is Sun Li Tun (er) without the dealers, the "lady bars, lady bars", the happy hours, the alcoholics, the freaks. Just a boring a night.

What is Beijing without the smog, the smelly cabs, the spitting men, the KTVs, the "er", the the pirated things, without Mao, without equal inequality? Plain boring. Just as your life.

What is the third ring road, with out the cars, the accidents, the traffic, the sight... just plain dull.

Who wants to leave in perfection? Who wants a boring life? Who wants Europe or the USA... where everything has already been done and nothing is astray, or so it seems.

For the "lost" of us, there is Asia. For the rest of you there is the world. I drink to that.

Poem: Jack Raif is dead

Knock, knock,

Who is there?

Jack.

Jack who?

Jack Raif you little punk,

Just because you got a haircut and quit drinking doesn't make you hot stuff, so puff off that little bluff you are playing, denying me, ignoring me, just because you think you fell in love… but isn't that the worst addiction of them all, you can’t think, you feel like shit, your jealousy overflows your mind with “ifs” and “what not” and you are not in control of your emotion, acting silly, please, you are worst than a hill billy on a ghetto in New York city.

Knock, knock,

Who is there?

Jack.

Jack Raif?

Who you think it would be Jack Shit, Black Jack jacking off like a cracker jack, remember the times at the bars? Remember the lonely Sunday mornings with no scheme or relentless to feel the need, you used to rest your head on my shoulder and I made you feel that things didn't matter, that somehow somewhere you were appreciated for being me, and our favorite color is black, like jack, and we clearly do not need to live, we want to die, isn't that what you use to say? No commitment to friends, no commitment to a relation, or a culture or way of living, cause we are artist and we feel to much to make commitments cause in the end you know, you and I suffer, cause for normal people is easy to say GOOD BYE, ITS OVER, but that is not an option, God made you who you are and you can't change that or change the past that has made you who you are, black, and jack, rum and coke, a glass tinted with art and suffering, and rejection objection to religion and repulsion for mass appreciation. All doors do not lead to the realms of perception but to me. Jack, you are bad and there is no way you will deny who you are, a mask, pale and cold, because I’ve taught you not to love.

Knock, knock,

Who is there?

Fuck that! It's Jack Raif,

No man, it's Jorge.

I fed you with all my anger so like clouds when they tumble with each other the lightning would strike the paper and the sound would resonate on the walls of poetry readings like these. I used you like a mask so I could hide all the discomfort that human interaction causes: tilting my brain from side to side in a cubicle of insecurity and low self – esteem. But I found her, and though scared and insecure I will pursue this light of hope and happiness that has ever been but a dream in a chaotic life like mine, cease to exist or kneel to me and succumb to my will for if not, prepare to dwell without a body, prepare to disintegrate, because I'm the sun and you are just a satellite, because am the source and you are just but a mere will, for Chen Shu, I would scrape the sky from its grey and paint it blue so I could put a smile upon her face, and though the future is not known I will construct from scratch a world so she can support her hope, I will desist of Jack if by no other means I could change my life from black to white and make both of their existence the ying and the yang and let my life be lived in complete peace, for she is my love and you are just a tool to escape from a society that never appreciated: sensitive, weird, strange, and what about my friends like bob, josh, zeth and zhou that you just hindered because you wanted to glow, you little fuck, prepare to subdue, to submit, or else like all my old loves, prepare to die, and walk in my cemetery of lost hope. Bada bing bada boom, and that's all!

Jack Raif

2007-02-18T18:28:00.000+08:00

Yeah. So what? I fell in love in Beijing.

Millions of individuals, heads stammering out of the mouth of Xizhimen subway station. I stand still, thinking. Thinking of you. Thinking of them. Thinking... where do all these people come from? Where do they go? Why are they all in a hurry? It's as if they follow some strange energy that guides them to a certain place. I, by the other hand, sit there and just watch all of them, they are blinded by light, they are stressfully walking in two directions, to and fro. The feeling, the sense of just stopping, of inactivating the body to activate the senses in this chaotic transit of human beings, of pushing, of shoving, of sounds, of bad smells, of.... dynamism. Why you follow? Why you walk? Why you breath? I am the surgeon and want to open you up to see what makes you tick.

Then I started walking and became one of them. I can only be aware of this at this point, I hope later I can brake away and walk like a God, incandescent, leading the herd, not following them.

By midnight the lights of a white room acompany me. She went home that night and space creeps up in me and loneliness starts to speak. I touch its lips and kiss it. Fuck off, I think it has been enough. It's time to give myself a chance.

By morning I miss her and wish we were never we, I hate missing, I hate the pain, I hate... not being with her. Dead end here, no way to avoid suffering.

By afternoon, she calls, my ears eat her voice like ambrosia and every vibration is absorbed, nothing is wasted. A thought arises, feeling too much, my disease, its a pool where alone, I swim. I said good-bye but wanted more of.... I dont know.

By night I get home, she is waiting, and the subway and midnight and morning and afternoon are pushed away. Nothing matters when she is here. Bien fucking "cursi", but that is the way love is, isn't it?

Jack Raif.

2006-12-17T20:06:00.000+08:00

Christmas is not Christmas in China. It maybe a vulgar copy of the capitalistic version of the USA, but none the less, chinese people don't pay atention to it. Christmas for us is like Chinese New Year for the Asians. And am not bitching about it, it's just funny how these days have passed by and I was totally unaware of the fact that Christmas (and I refer to the christmas feeling and the getting togethers and that kind'a shit) was going on in some other parts of the world, for all I've seen or heard of Christmas are in the 7 eleven's, them blasting jingle bells and frosty the snowman (yes, only those two songs) over and over again 24/7, plus the cheap pictures of that old golly fucked up man called Santa placed more like an advertisement than a "seasons greeting". Advertising: AMERICA. Well I don't give a fuck about it now... I guess I have sacrificed santa for Chinese New Year. Let the poor bastard suffer, I dind't like his fat ass anyways.

For all the irregularities in my life, one of the strangest happened last week, when someone, who I wont mention his name, invited me to perform in somebody elses dubi dabi festival of people who don't understand english listening to spanish, english and italian poems... The first thing "strange" that happened was the elongated pratice of a poet with some musicians of a two chord song. Whatever man, I thought, I wan't to be done with this. Then, as I was wondering around I saw the poster for the event, my chinese name! (cool), but then next to it "Mexican Poet", yeah, in Chinese. Pues Orale mano, I don't come from that puto place, and for fuck sake, I dont look like one. Cool, I said to myself, stay cool, shit happens. Irregularities you know. Then the performance. First the guy reading his poem over the dull, sad tune of a two chord song. Second, me coming down to read my spanish poems, which in the past I've never performed because of the fact that almost nobody speaks spanish here (The best thing of all this is that when they invited me it was supposed to be a Spanish Poetry Festival), nobody understood it, so nobody knew when I finished the first part. Ok, fine. So I read the second one with the help of a beat boxer who has the bad habbit of losing the beat. Should take a lesson in music (Specially the part where they teach 4/4 rythms) and in math (1+1+1+1= 4): fast don't mean is cool, tripplets don't make you hip, and never, ever, try to be a pretencious prick when I'm arround, cause A. Pablo Neruda's real name is Neftalì Reyes Basoalto B. He is not fucking Argentinan C. It would have taken him 0.02 seconds to get this info in Google. So when I finished the poem with a pretencious beat, still no claps. Then a Poem in English, read it, actually read it pretty good; three claps from the only cats who new english. Then done and said bye bye.

Next, on the act, was the performance of the quasi-clown, who I know, pretty nice fellow, but I was wondering what he would do in a poetry reading. Well he did his juggling thing, and tricicle thing with his friend and the company of yours truly beating with the pretencious beat boxer. Hell if you ask me. The quasi-clown was feeling all out place and shit and was glad when he finished but suddenly the organizer comes and says in Chinese, where is your poem (he had the wrong impression the clown was a poet, or the pretencious beat boxer misinformed his ass), of course the poor quasi-clown didn't understand, and I said to him: just say a poem! And he goes, well I'm not a poet, and in my head: fuck! Somebody framed you too?! So the quasi-guy said ok, my poem is how two say the numbers in another language... which I won't tell the language because It my reveal the identity of my quasi-friend.

After that I had too much of it. I don't like being a fool. Had too much bad peformances because of others in the past. I wasn't going to take it, so I left, behind me the trail of bad spanish accent... god damn neruda debe estar revolcandose en su fucking tumba.

All in all I had fun though. And I bet they did too! Ha ha ha ha...

POEM No.8 How You Sound

So,
How you sound?
Is your beat a striking beat resembling the colors that we might see if I took a kaleidoscopic vision of your insights, will you be proud of black, proud of yellow, proud of white, and between all of this realize that colors are just variations of light and that no offense must be taken when ignorant people say words like spik, nigger or chink, I mean you have to be proud of who you are, proud of the good and the bad, and take the best of everything if you can, and when someone deliver you this: (flip the bird) its just fucking fingers that can't speak, so get your mouth on the mic and tell the true story behind every lie.

So,
How you sound Mr. President?
Are you the voice of the people, the clamor of righteousness, the cry of the million kids without food or education, the majority oppressed by the minority, the nine to fivers’ slaves that wakes up every day thinking same shit different day what can I say you are the master and I am the slave, the tears of parents who can't find a job coming back home to listen to their children bellies the grotesque symphony of hunger, malnutrition, despair, decease, the junkie on the street feeling the need to find someone that cares and gives him a helping hand to quit that shit because hustling the nights for pennies to cash in coke, crack, heroin makes a sin seem bigger than it seems, nobody hears, he just needs someone who cares, another chance, the metallic cell... men and women leaving in oblivion with no hope for true re socialization, or Mr. President, is your voice the voice of the corporations and their wild manifestation of cruelty, profit vs. human morality, let the cash flow flow, cause who provides the currency also provides the blow, the headless behemoth devouring our world, pesos, yens, euros, kuais, pounds or dollar signs.

So,
How you sound my true love?
No one answers. But I will tell you how I would like you to sound… like a sweet breeze in October, calm and soothing, like the silent sound of shooting stars, visible, mystical, grand, like a rose blooming, always at a perfect time, uncomplicated, scented, and thus am not a great musician I would compose symphonies to play on the moon, while we travel to Jupiter and live on Saturn, no sound will matter, cause all the sound that is worth would be enclosed in that little heart of yours, and I might not be good at telling the truth, but for you, baby, nothing else would come out of my lips, cause you see, even though am not good at relationships and letting a person into my heart, for you and only you I could stop the sins that has succumbed me in the pass, because you'll be the lips, and I'll be the sound of how you sound and how I sound and between all this beautiful sounds we can caress and kiss and I will go down to my knees and ask the one and only question true love can ask...

Jack Raif

2006-11-10T13:31:00.000+08:00

0.8 milligrams of nicotine a day. 4 gallons of beers a day. Days begin at night and like a vampire the sun feels so unholy. I grasp the nature of things easier when left on my own. I talk to much to myself when drifting in this weird experience. Sometimes I do it a loud, sometimes in my mind and its funny sometimes when myself talks back (and trust me I dont think what myself is going to say, is purely spontaneous)the things it answer. Can we divorce ourself and marry some other self to find peace of mind? Probably from a dual personality I would get a triple or quadruple... who knows where this trip of the mind will take me.

I Jammed yesterday. To my delight Neco and Jimmy were there, I haven't seem them for a while. Judy took sometime time off from the bar and came with Fransua and me to the jam session. Not to many people that night. But the atmosphere is good for jamming specially for the musician that hangout there, they are pretty talented.

Lastly at 2 or 3 a.m. I saw this chinese lesbian flick. It was funny at the beginning but then it turned boring. Damn it! And I've been noticing something about chinese love flicks too... it always has to involve a lot of suffering, you feel cold when you finish watching them.

That's it for the time being,

J.

2006-11-09T15:54:00.000+08:00

Sweet pickles and frijoles! For a few weeks I could access my blog without the use of a proxy, but guess they have cut our wings and left us handicapped. Little do they know that backdrops and subterranean hangouts are most proliferous under acts that obviously will cause rebellion. Will any reader prevail when the man who puts the pen on the paper fades out of the picture? You know God damn right it will, written expression is like a virus or like narcotics: it doesn't matter if you don't like 'em, the problem is when they like you!

I've decided that I will not see too much movies, series or documentaries. I think I need to read more. There is no greater satisfaction than to know, to be amazed, to be awed, like the information on this page: http://www.sitchin.com/ Read the book, it's also awesome.

Next in my order of peculiar catastrophies, I was supposed not to go out this week, but have been out almost every night. It seem that for me every time I say " I WILL NOT " I forget to the NOT and put much effort in the I WILL. That's so me. I will probably head today to 2kolegas and satisfy my need for muscial expression, jamming with the jammers and kicking it with the kickers.

For those who read and write or do some sort of artistic expression, tonight's jam will be for you. For those who don't do shit, well, just go watch a movie.

Jack Raif

Evolution

2006-10-25T18:13:00.000+08:00

I’ve began to doubt the World in which we are living. I no longer believe in no religious institution, corporation or country. I don’t believe in communism, democracy, capitalism, socialism or any other form of government; I don’t believe that they will help society in any form more than driving it to self destruction.

I believe in God and believe that everyone should belief in a form of deity, supernatural force or something that makes us more human than we already are. I believe that we should start from cero and make things right this time. This is call evolution, the way is meant to be, not as the next generations of predators, but as beings of higher consciousness.

For that we most first record all the “whys” that are driving us take this decision, this must be done so we will never forget why have we chosen this path. This is the most dangerous task and maybe the most important task of them all, and thus it should be done.

Human society has turned into a manipulative force that meddles with our sub consciousness, making us act as mere puppets of an external force that doesn’t care about our well being. This external forces (call it the private world, governmental or the media) has bombarded our lifestyles with symbols that have a direct effect on our well being. Nothing that is of real importance (life, love, health, happiness, etc, etc, etc) has real value, on the other hand, products, material things, are our goals. The tools of acquiring these goals are simple: do what you must to get what you want. And it would be beautiful to say that this just happens in one part of the world, but the truth is that our global civilization is sick. We ourselves must become a virus to contra rest the other virus. At this, our focal mission is to make the virus benign to human well being and its evolution. I am in no way endorsing violence but ask of a way to liberate ourselves in the most intelligent and profound way our history has ever seen.

The evolution has just started.

Jack Raif

Monday

2006-10-23T20:29:00.000+08:00

Depression got a hold of me today; it's a mixture of melancholy and the obvious frustations of everyday life. I've finished painting the first page of my poetry book, I kind of like it, though is obvious am no true Picasso. Decided to head off home early after school, nothing else was holding me there, so what the hell. Don't want to pick the Chinese books today (though I should), for today I give up. Probably try to find a good book home or watch enough dvd's to drive me crazy and let my inner devil have some of me. I've been kind of reading the page, its kind of boring isn't it? Damn, I'm sorry for that, but I don't know shit about web designing to make it attractive, thus it's pretty lame of me just letting all my sadness and not letting you on the briefest account of happiness in my life. Well if there is someone from otter space out there that wants to take me to see the plains of mars or cruise around saturns rings, please adduct me, I live in Beijing, China, 苹果社区, you can figure out the rest... just give a 2 hour notice so I can grab my towel and hitchhikers guide to the galaxy.

Take care,

J.

Wake up on Monday
The first day of every day
Nothing special on Mondays
That is just the day the week begins

Tuesday, the rent is due,
Gave all the money I had left,
So funny, poetry doesn’t feed or shelters you,
Wonder what did famous poets before me live off?

Wednesday, gave you a call,
No desire to talk so I hang up on the first buzz,
I can’t give you anything,
So many successful young men out there,
Take a pick and head off,
I won’t be mad at you,
That is just the way my life goes.

Thursday, my friends call,
Top notch workers and thinkers,
Laugh at my incorrigible ways,
Pretty God damn tough
When you have dough on your pockets
Do this do that
Let me smack you with the brick of reality
Am not smart, tough or God.

By Friday people on the bar are buying me drinks
Decline and head off,
Pretty fucking clear by now people feed on emotions
Let them feed on air tonight,
I just want to dream up something and get peace from it all.

Saturday, wake up, look at my side,
It was just a dream,
Decide if I want to get up,
No I don’t, but I have to,
Don’t get anything done if depression wins the best of me

Sunday comes, look forward for Monday,
The first day of every day,
Nothing special happens on Mondays.

Jack Raif

Noodles in Beijing

2006-10-22T21:57:00.000+08:00

Noodles in Beijing,
originally uploaded by Jack Raif.

As I arose from my bed I felt the cold biting my worn out liver, but my eyes were seeing a glimpse of heaven when they rested upon the bluest sky ever, the yellow particles of the sun were striking the walls of the constructions and the air was pure, breath against breath, the oxygen here had not been this way for at least 3 months.

Bored of myself I started to clean the bathroom. The god damn bathroom! On a sunday morning... I must be losing my mind! But I did.. put on some Herbie Hancock and started sweeping and wiping the floors. Nice, Herbie has a DJ. Finished cleaning and decided to go to the black market and buy some movies and computer programs. I was all mad because I needed to get an external dvd/cd rom but couldnt make up my mind. After that went to the other SOHO, the green one (and yes, I'm being funny here) to find the gym my friend had told me about. Found it but decided to have late lunch at the American Cafe with two friends. We had some quesadillas (cheese and green peppers), chips and salsa and my friend order chicken wings. Next we went to the gym, had to sign my name and give my information before actually going in. The girl who took us for the tour of the facility had very beautiful eyebrows, I would even say exotic, nice beijingnese accent too. Fought to get a discount, damn it! Gyms are so expensive here. Dececided that it might be better to get a membership at the gym in the white SOHO. Went to the supermarket near the gym. I was getting bored of the Carefour and Century Mart, so this was a nice change. Couldn't silence my inner voice or counscious (or Satan or God or who the fuck knows) saying: "Jack, why the fuck did we not move around here? 苹果社区 sucks compared to this place... and look all the beautiful ladies, and check it out JackAss, no constructions near by... nice nighty nigth sleep, but you don't know about that... you haven't slept well since you moved to 苹果 hu?" It might be more expensive I tried to say to the voice, but when he wants to get nasty he does.

Bought a new cover for the bed, new toothbrush, some color pencils a highlighter and air freshner to put beside my bed. I think if I smell something nice when I wake up it will put me in a good mood (call it wishful thinking). Got home, started washing my cloth and ended up here, writing, so in this exact moment am here, but am not. The past was described but I wasnt there, but right now am here. We havent seen of each other in a while havent we?

So I've written this piece. It's called bird. Hope you like it,

See you in my dreams,

J.

You want to cage me
In your little plan
You want to feed me,
Like a little bird,
Cut my wings,
And let me see the world,
From there,
You are so you,
And I am so me,
That it displeases us
To be
Anything but the other

Safe but unhappy,
I would crush your cage
If I had the might,
If I didn't respect you or obey you,
I would strangle these bars of ineptitude
And disgrace the million manners in which you have raised me
I would create a private hell
To let you feel
Empty
Dark
Somber
Millions of millions of bangs to the head
And the endless sound of silence
It would drive you, while your eyes are looking inside,
Insane,
My name is your name,
Thus you are not me,
And cannot think,
That I would conform in a cubicle of fate,
Where all the lines know where they would end,
Strapped to it with no one to talk, or be myself,
I don't want to trade places with the mightiest kings,
Or wish to suck on heavens tits,
I don't feel like oceans, immense or unstoppable,
I just want to be me,
Free,
In this place some people call
Beijing.

Jack Raif.

P.S. You can check out some of my performances at http://subterraneanpoets.blogspot.com and yes the picture posted has no relation what so ever to what has been written today. I just like noodles. Je.

2006-10-16T02:20:00.000+08:00

I have to find a way to stay in Beijing. I have to find a way to stick around here longer, I have no desire to leave... I just don't feel like quiting this place just yet. But God, by all means, I wish a light would shine the way and just lead me to a concrete, solid vision of my future. By now I am scared, and if you are not in this position is not easy to understand why, I guess. People will say that I'm talented, gifted and intelligent, not to worry, but in this globalized society that doesn't count for much, does it? I'm scared and am not scared to tell the world.

Beijings weather has quickly changed into nice Autum to crazy cold in just a few days. Winter is coming and I think it will be colder this year. My kinda luck. Got to be strong though, got to hold on to my poems and to my ideals, have to be me. I have to be strong, strong... nothing good is really easy.

This next poem I wrote it for kids, was performed at Annie's exhibition. Hope you liked it.

J.

Let me tell you a story about 3 young bros
Eennie, Minie and little Mo
Though they were from the same Dad and Mom
All had a special characteristic of their own

Eennie was good at math, physics and all that stuff
Won first prizes in math contests and was praised at home
She could solve large mathematical equations
Like what is the square root of 3,244
And in one second or two she would say:
56.9561234 (etc, etc, etc...)

Then there was Minie who excel at all sports
He was the captain of the wrestling, baseball, pin pong team, but he
Specially liked football.
He had a room full of trophies, ribbons and prizes of that sort…
He was popular with the girls, and no blood related people would call him "bro".

But my favorite brother of them all, as you might have guessed it, is little Mo,
He wasn't popular or praised at home,
And most of the time had crazy ideas that his parents and teachers scorned,
He told stories about worlds only found in his head,
Draw things that he could only see,
Wrote prose with strange words like:
Flick my brains flocks cause my dog fell from my locks...

He would talk to everyone; the priest, the thief, the beggar at the church door,
The police, the old man and anyone who would care to have a little talk.

No one thought much of him
or the things he did,
No one paid attention to that special gift
Bestowed from the Gods to him,
They said, if he is not good in school,
Then he must grow up to be a fool...

He didn't care though,
He lived in a world of his own,
And by the time he was 24
He was the most famous poet around the world.

Parents should encourage their kids to be who ever they want to be,
And if they want to be an artist
You shouldn't treat it as a bad omen,
Or else your kids will grow like me,
Definitely a bad poet.

Jack Raif

2006-09-22T18:43:00.000+08:00

Am not a strong man. I can be bended with my passion, what ever makes me "feel" I want to do it a lot and get overwhelmed by it. I wish I could control myself, but I was never taught to restrain myself, I live to the fullest. Is it bad? Of course it is. But what isn't bad in this world? I guess my Mom was always right to say that earth was hell and it wouldn't be fair to have another hell after death. Wise words, though I guess Christianity would not approve of such ideals. It might be an invitation for death.

I'm thinking on quitting everything and wed words cause they are just always there. It's something as real as death, we cannot avoid it. And let music be my mistress, is something as tempting as sex. Other things are just an enhancer of those mentioned.

Lets see what comes of all of this.

Take care my dear reader.

Jack Raif

Jack Raif at a Shrine in Tokyo

2006-09-19T17:43:00.000+08:00

Jack Raif at a Shrine in Tokyo,
originally uploaded by Jack Raif.

2006-09-19T16:51:00.000+08:00

My days have been filled with a rollercoaster of emotions ranging from the loneliness of my arrival to Beijing to the ever hip stream of Jazz Bars which I dedicate myself to go once a week to the almost non existent blue days in which I flirt with the waitresses on my favorite restaurant, to the pull of the calling of my family to return to my country.

I have payed the price for this "gift" and my hedonistic way of life which is coming slowly to an end since I have to return to the real world (find work).

I kicked ass at the poetry festival held on the Bookworm. It truly felt like the first time... nervous and shit, you know? I even had to put the paper on the table... but the words flowed thru my lips and the audience embrassed it. I made good friends there, specially a talented Chinese poet and painter called "deep sleep", whose chinese poetry has a rythm that I think is very unique.

Finally last weekend I played bass for a poetry reading in Ritan Park and of course improvised some of my stuff too, in which all went well, until I lost my bass at the end of the presentation (blame it on the alcohol and the time they let us perform). Saturday was a total mess too... arrived home at Sunday 6 a.m.

What to do now? Still don't have a glance of the future, still want to be in Beijing.

Hope you enjoy this next poem, called Hedonism.

HEDONISM

No more rolling a joint for my friends and smoking it with them on a Sunday afternoon while listening to good old rock music getting the munchies and eating a tasty pizza with Hawian Punch.

No more LSD, mushrooms or mescaline to see within to see without, to see the lights, to see the clouds, to see the soul as you have never seen it before, as an intrinsic part of the universe, to defy tradition, to know God, to know yourself and to think as no man has ever thought before. A celebration from all
starting from one
and becoming none.
You are so bad! Bad boy! Bad bad bad!

No more hiding yourself from everybody else
locking the door and letting your little "didi" have fun, with the wide variety of pornographic material that this corrupt world has to show, no, no, no, no more sex in elevators, at the beach, in the bathroom, in Moms and Dads houses, plus no promiscuity, no sex before marriage, no more doggy style, sixty nine, rodeo or beach ball, no sex for fun. Better yet! You can ONLY have SEX if you are going to PROCREATE.
You are so bad Georgie boy, so bad!

No more use of foul language, no more cussing, no more (that's right!) cocks, cunts and fucks. From now on to speak in derogatory terms you'll have to be a physician "you stupid fornicating vagina!". Don't you think that is dumb?
No! You are a bad man, bad, bad, bad!

No more driving thru a red light when there is no one around, no more making fun of politicians, of your friends, of somebody else Mom, of stealing at the seven eleven, of hitch hiking, of being adventurous and ruthless, of profaning other languages mandandote para la mierda y mentandote la madre, of drinking till you pass out, of waking up at 2 in the afternoon with no idea of what happened the night before, of being intelligent to have the right for being dumb. No jazz, no rap, no rock and roll.

If it's going to be that way, let heaven be hell and hell be life for I couldn't stand and eternity experiencing the same shit twice.

JACK RAIF

From Tokyo with love...

2006-08-18T17:21:00.000+08:00

Wrote this today... Im still traveling, hope to get soon to Beijing to put all my ideas on paper and get it out there.

Poem No. 78 (Tokyo, 2006)

I talk to myself
on lonely afternoons
beneath shades
drinking tea
smoking weed
beside a tree
I talk to myself
who else can understand what I see or feel
my chaotic personality
my love for autodestruction,
my need to need the need
to feel the caress,
the sublime feeling when we first met,
to fall in love in on day,
with different persons,
on the same day.

I bet you wouldnt understand

So I talk to myself on lonely afternoons, beneath a tree, seeing kids
running free,
I kiss the wind,
the mystic smile,
on lonely afternoon,
I talk to God,
I talk to myself,
to not forget my place in this world

Jack Raif

Jack Raif and Massa

2006-08-02T14:29:00.000+08:00

Jack Raif and Massa,
originally uploaded by Jack Raif.

Last night as I enter a restaurant in Hong Kong, no empty seats! So the waiter sits me with another client in his table. To tell you the truth I thought the guy sitting with me was around 30 at the most, striking conversation he told me he was 41. I said "Damn man! Tell me whats your secrete? Do you excersice?" he said "No, I'm too lazy, I sleep in my leisure time and watch TV" to that I replied "How come you are not fat?" he says to that "I dont know could be my metabolism". He ask me about my age and how did I manage to travel a lot, didn't I work? Didn't I study? Suddenly I realized something and I asked... "Are you married?" He said "No". "That's why you look so young, cero stress bro!" after a few minutes he left most of his food on the plate, ask for the bill in cantonese and said something to the waiter which I obviously didn't understand and said to me: I've paid your bill, welcome to Hong Kong.

Stories stories stories... now to poetry... love poem number 420. Also know as the Ghost Poem.

GHOST

Amazed by you,
The ghost
That appears when I least expect it,
That specter that follows me from the past,
My love,
My desire,
Amazed.

Neglected, we have both departed to new worlds,
Our love faded into the night sky
And like stars, ghosts we became,
Shinning but no longer existing.
We are just there to be amazed
To remember
Once it happened
Once it was there.

My love,
From time to time I wish I had not met you,
For all this need to need
Finds it's essence in you
My love,
For all the time being is a long wait
To forget you
And there is no desire for that to happen
So my love,
I feel alone.

You are my ghost
And like a ghost I can't touch you
Like a ghost I can't love you
Like a ghost you'll have to wait when I die
To make the pieces fit right
And together be at last
In that unknown future
We only know by speculation
Death,
after that,
We will meet again,
If not,
Let me have no recollection of you in my head
Let the torn of the rose be flattened
For I don't want to feel pain if I'm never ever going to get you.
If the light that shines is just an illusion
What else can I grasp to?
What can I do when I want to
Be
With you

Denny me my love,
Hear these words
Realize well never be together
Well never have what we have lost
And that time is the hangman
That laughed when it pushed the lever
And our love fell but was tied to our souls
Say that you don't love no more
And like a ghost
Go back where you belong
To my cemetery of lost loves.

Jack Raif

2006-07-31T04:17:00.000+08:00

It's time to engage in a new adventure, gamers would call that a "side quest" in a RPG game. I will first rest my feet in Hong Kong, the future from there on is blurry. I should ended up in Japan but first I will go to Taiwan, if the energy that moves this whole existences bid it.

For now am just happy to be leaving Beijing for a while. I need to think certain things about the future and what better way to do that that in a whole new world?

And I kiss every night briefly hoping that it will tell me that everything in the future will be alright. I call this hope. I call this faith. I call on it in times of guidence.

My bed is calling me...

Jack Raif

P6140050

2006-07-11T13:29:00.000+08:00

P6140050,
originally uploaded by Jack Raif.

It was back a month a go... We were really happy that day, the jazz was amazing as always we the drum beats in constant evolution with a diversity of rythms the bazz never missing a beat and the guitarr soulfull as ever. My friends were allround... drunk and happy and the good vibes were absorved and encaged in memory.

Now most of them are gone... and I miss them. This is a new experience and a hard test, the hardest of them all, learning to let go.

This week a performed with the subterranean poets in THE MILLENIUM ART MESEUM. It was great to recite the Black Magic poem, which was inspired by Picasso, infront of one of his paintings. Life is a strange complex multidimensional experience...

My good bye poem for my friends:

I feel my feet itching again
I guess its time to move away
My eyes scream to watch a different landscape
The call its hard to ignore
Its voice grasps my soul;
Inviting, seducing, instigating, manipulating
Making me admit my need to feel new things

Maybe its cause people fall into their boring habits:
Work Fuck Eat Sleep
Different days, same shit

But soon the same stars
Will look at me from a different perspective
And the landscape will take a new form
And a new language will come,
A religion high in altitude,

I never want to stop
Never want to look back
To the things I left behind
It is gone, it is of no importance
Just memories, food for thought
I cant stay and let time eat me up,
If I can, I will travel afar,
Let my sin burn with different suns,
Let my lungs be filled with different space,
And the ether from each dynamic situation
Will impregnate me with experience,
Making my existence
A full lived one,
For if I ever settle,
I will still have the scars
Of my journeys around the world,
Around a universe I hardly understand
But have seen it piece by piece,
From Earth to Mars.

You can’t bind me to you,
To her, to this or that place,
I have to go, go, go,
Somewhere, anywhere,
I have to experience this world,
Or life, or love, or dusk, or dawn,
Or night
Before I depart
Before I change channels
Different dimensions
Different existence,
Today, right now,
I AM.

And in this long road
where there is no arrival time
I know I will miss
The friends, the place,
Mom, Dad, family,
That have nurture
Me in the past
I know that in this long journey
I will lay in the grass and cry,
And hate the loneliness of being lonely,
But I have something more eternal
Sun, Moon, Stars,
They know who I am,
And I know who they are,
Im sorry nothing can stop me,
No emotions, no war, no game,
Not even death,
I will travel… always,
While you die,
While I cry,
While laugh
I will travel
From north to south
From east to west
Seeing you many times
Different faces,
But I will always be me,
This is my way to say
I will meet you again,
In another face,
Its so hard, its so hard,
Or so the song says:
Te espero siempre mi amor
Cada hora cada día
Te espero siempre mi amor
Cada minuto que yo viva
Te espero siempre mi amor
Se que un día llegaras
Te espero siempre mi amor
No te olvido y te quiero
Te espero siempre mi amor
Se que un día volveras.

26 de junio de 2006

2006-06-26T12:31:00.000+08:00

Last week was a week full of adventures and it is so that answer on why I havent writting anything on the blog.

Most of my friends are leaving home never to return to Beijing... in a way this is affecting me, for I've grown used to to most of them and they are my concept of stability in this country. But everything most come to an end, doesnt it?

I am planning to travel to Hong Kong, Taiwan and Japan during my month off. I tell this though, it sucks being a traveling Panamanian, you need a fucking visa everywhere you go, no matter how good our international relations are with another country. And I hate this, all the bureaucracy, all the shit I have to go thru just to go around the world. I will try as hard as I can to get all the visas though, I dont want to stay here feeling everyone has left me.

I was sick las wednesday so I didnt show up to the International Open Mic at the Bookworm but I did perform with Bob and Zhou in Bei Hai (Rain Bar) on the 24. I will post one of the poems I performed alone there, and see if we can transcribe the Kaleidoscope Poem to post it

One last thing before I leave you to my poem, I feel poetry is a dead art, a dead end... and it is so like me to fall in love with things that are this way... unreachable. I feel sad about that today, but there is nothing I can do, I didn't choose this... but it chose me... please just read...

A SPELL AGAINST ME AGAINST YOU

Images turn to plaster
And sounds acquire texture
And the days become nonexistent
Time laughs at the secrets I've been told
Because my jaw drops
Tears fall from my eyes
I drop my head
And with my fists
I start hitting space

Leave me alone,
You damned voodoo spirit or ghost
Leave me alone,
Go back where you came from,
You will not drive me into your corrupt
Vicious manipulative scheme
To hit my button of auto destruction
I may not have faith in the world
But I have faith in me

I will not believe in you or your God
I will not tempt my ideals and succumb to you because of fear
I will accept death as it is, unknown,
And will agree to follow this vibe that guides me thru this labyrinth called life.

Leave me alone,
Stop showing me grotesque human interaction
Making me think that life is a long wait for death,
And that's it, nothing more
I said stop your vicious manipulative scheme,
You damned enraged voodoo spirit,
I've watch you as you transformed yourself into a humming bird
And try to suck on my sweet emotions
Go back to your master

Tell her I have intoxicated you

Bittersweet

Tell her I am no game

That I will spit at her thoughts,

I will despise her love,

I will break sticks as if it were her bones,

I will stab her with all my will if she comes close,

Tell her that I've surrounded my self in a forcefield

Of might and elusive light that endangers her

Every time she tries to cast

A blast against my past,

Present, my life,

Be off you voodoo spirit,

And tell her that.

JACK RAIF

June 11, 2006

2006-06-11T19:24:00.000+08:00

Sitting in my apartment, all the lights are off and its a little bit hot. I feel a dark mark has been set on me, and find it really hard to establish a relationship. I must admit that in the past, in my poems, I mock this word: relationshit, friendshit, companionshit... it's all bullshit. But I guess I'm growing considerably lonely and in need to find a light in this crazy dark world of mine. Being away from home in a world that is particulary different from the rest it makes me over emotional about stuff, makes me feel to much of everything, of love, of hate, of anger, of loneliness, of happiness.

And example of this is last friday. I went to the gym in the afternoon in preparance for the drinking bout Patrick, Massa and me had organized for the night, at the Singaporean place at SOHO. We invited around 15 persons, I got lucky that night because the waitress gave me her phone number, and I felt happily drunk and wanted and all that shit. Maybe I was in denial for what happened on wednesday with Yuki. And I'll tell you this, everything be it with any girl here in China starts great, the first day is awesome, I hit the stars... but after that when we end up in the "real" date... something happens... the magic just leaves.

Anyways as we left, the waitress smiles at me... and I sing with Massa "Daylight comes and we want to go home..." And this is when things start to get nasty man... Mr. Patrick is running and climbing walls and jumping and Massa breaks into beats of Fuck Fuck Cunt Cocksucker, and I into a beats of Fuck Motherfucking Bullshit fuckers! And talking in my worst chinese ever (not that its really good after all). And this is when I lost it all... I arrive at the Together Bar had some beers but when I drank the glass of rum, after that I only know what happend by my friends accounts. They said I said I love you to a girl that had his boyfriend there, not only in English, but in Chinese and Spanish and kept on repeating it many times... I was being a real asshole screaming being delightfully funny (to my friends who know me) but I guess something inside me made me do all this... I DONT KNOW WHAT... thankly Stafan took me home.

When I woke up next day, no close on, I dont remembered anything, and when I listened to the accounts I go... That doesn't sound like me... but it was... Who am I? Who are you? Do you really know who you are?

This week I read two poems but I'll post only one, hope you like it:

A Dream

Lately you are in my mind,
As summer in a cold winter night,
You have come and go then come again,
Too bad I've never felt
Your touch or kiss or even a caress,
I've never known reward, or sacrifice,
Nor have I felt the wind sing your name,
The colors of your eyes are of a fading one,
Like those in a dream,
I never remember them when I wake up,
But I recognize how it felt,
When upon your vision laid I,
I was mystified,
And I have search the misty path,
In search of you... my one
But face after face, I just don't seem to find
Those eyes, or that smile,
Or those tears when they fell and touch the ground,
In my dream, you see, you never leave,
In my dream, you save me,
You are the pentagram and I am las flores
I'm the religion and you are the Goddess...

But still I haven't found you, my one:

That's sad isn't it,
That is why I dig Jazz,
Lets face it; there is a percent that never gets the one,
No one or any one,
But for those
There is a tune and a drink
Miles Davis and Janis Joplin
Night sky, Blue sky,
Whatever, you are alive...

So many souls say that love will fulfill your life
Well, God damn! If they are right,
Cause I think I'm in that percent, you know,
Or I will be in that percent for years to come,
I guess I have to find a reason to live other than love,
I guess I have to find happiness in another source,

So I'll put Miles on the jukebox have a Gibson Martini and a smoke
If its not you, my one, I prefer to have none,
and try to see if happiness could be achieved thru this art form,
writing about things that I might not ever have... Like love,
But it's so hard to be alone, specially when you go out
And see couples.. a passionate kiss...
You just want to scream FUCK! And then you think:
Is there something wrong with me
Why can't I... but they can?
No answer.

Don't matter... I have Jazz and alcohol,
Friend and this art form,
I am Alive!
But still I don't know
Why I have this need, this need, to be in love.

Jack Raif

Sunday june 4, 2006

2006-06-04T20:22:00.000+08:00

Hou Hai,
originally uploaded by Jack Raif.

Summer is approaching very fast and in the landscape beautiful white long legs emerge. They activate my sex so frequently I think I only think about it 24/7... I hope to see more of it.

The subway station in Beijing has 2 new carts, it seems they are upgrading their carts, one by one. I'm waiting, though, for the new subway lines to open up... I hope I'm still here when they do.

Probably the subterranean poets will be performing on Rain Bar this 24 of June, I'm looking foward to it, there is nothing more beautiful than seeing Hou Hai at night, hold a beer and talk with some friends (specially after performing). I hope you enjoy the poem I read at the Bookworm this week and if you are in Beijing come visit us, 8:30 p.m. every wednesday...

Loneliness

Loneliness comes in many forms:
a. Space
b. Heart
c. Both

Isn't it strange?
How loneliness traps us
In its mystic wrap,
It's not being without someone (loneliness of space)
The one that stirs up this uneasiness
a sort of decay
In which every passing day
Transforms us,
It's not the one that makes us kneel
Sobbing, crying, screaming,
Nobody hears,
Not that anyone would notice,
That's the problem with loneliness
The signs are within hidden,
You are a turbulence of emotions
A chaotic confusedness
That makes you feel giddy inside,
Lightheaded, dark,
Life has become an endless charade of hollow smiles,
And "I'm ok,
I'm just tired",

And our bodies mingles with the presence of others,
But what do they know? How much do they care?
Most important, do we really care?

And when we meet someone we might think could fill the gap,
We realize, we come to understand
That loneliness is not a problem of others,
But a problem of us,
It's not a problem of them not accepting us,
It's a problem of us not accepting them.
Is it our previous experiences that pushes,
Makes us reject present relations,
Or is it truly the fault of a world
that cannot understand...?

And when we meet someone who we might think could fill the gap,
And we get endeared with that one,
And our hearts don't want to forget,
But the one has suddenly left,
Some say is better to lost and love,
Than never to loved at all,
I say is better to not love at all,
Than suffering a case of acute loneliness of both,
Loneliness of space and heart,
Feel death when you are alive,
Pain when you are all right.

Jack Raif

May 28, 2004

2006-05-28T11:01:00.000+08:00

This poem is inspired by my friend Massa and our drinking habits. It was performed in the Bookworm the 24 of may (for the third time) for the theme that night was alcohol. Today it's a beautiful day in Beijing, after those 4 days of smog and rain, the sky is blue as it should be, the wind is cool, so my emotions are in a higher state. I've missed so much days like this, makes me want to go out and scream "I'm so glad its over, I've missed you so much! It's so good to see you!"... But I must say I wish I had a special person to share this day... time to get going... If you can please check the Subterranean Poets website and the Bob Marcacci page.

You have to understand the philosophy of it...

Fridays comes,
And I don't want to be at home,
Sober, bored,

I belong to a special breed,
Drinks and smokes weed,
Lives dies and lives.

I mean: who wants to sit
And watch time fly
Never participate
No actions in space and time.

My body asks for interaction!
Needs to walk the streets at night
In search of some action.

And fuck the discos with its deafening sound and hip wanna be,
Trendy cloths and shitty drinks.
Fuck the bouncers, the go go girls and the rich kids who buys drinks
To people like me, making me listen to their shit,

But praise the bars.
Alleluia,
Dim light, soft jazz, good drinks, good talks,
Get drunk, go dance,
Get dumb, lose your mind,

Hit the other bar,
Shut up and drink,
Louder music,
Less hip,
None the less pretty grim

Mix your stuff
Beer and rum,
Vodka tonic, Baijiu,

Mix your brain!
Lust and anger,
Euphoria and love,

Engage in dance,
Twist your hips
Make a stand,
Bend your knees,
Caress her thighs

Feel her body,
Then she pushes you back,
"Fuck you, you are pissed drunk,
go sober up and THEN, then maybe we might talk".

Who cares cause all my eyes see
Are moving lips, no sound comes from it,
And when I see my enemies
I try my best satanic verses:
So you want to mess with me,
Fuck my mind up,
Confuse me, blind me,
Stress me, mock me,
Laugh at me, destroy me,
Yet I'm blessed, you little fuck,
By demons and angels
That caress my vibes at night.
I walk carelessly
I talk freely
I say what I want, do what I want, fuck what I want,
Toke what I want,
My energy transforms the world that surrounds me
Into what best fits my benefits,
So if you want to kick my ass, go head, by all means,
I bet faith will get rid of thee...

And I walk and stumble with angels
And sometimes demons,

Take me home,
My soul overflows...

Something is wrong inside, I cry.
What is it?
It's life.
And I try so hard to be normal
And I try so hard to be sober
But between my emotions,
Depression and boredom
Between the backstabbing pain of friendship,
Between tears, loneliness and lust,
I blame myself,
For not being who I am
For always talking so much

So cry baby cry,
While Mom feeds you lies
You have to, You have to, You have to,
Why do I have to... and not be?
And while most pedestrians walk the safety line,
I chose to walk blindfolded by emotions
In traffic...

And so many times cars hit me,
And so many times I had to get up,
Until the glass hit me for the last time,
And it wasn't I who was no more,
Like the phoenix from the ashes,
I was reborn...

So next day I say to myself "I won't do this no more",
But I bet Friday will come,
And the first thing my mind will think
Is:
You have to understand the philosophy of it...

Jack Raif

Shang Hai

2006-05-19T18:12:00.000+08:00

Shang Hai,
originally uploaded by Jack Raif.

I started writing this poem in the city of Shang Hai, I ended up finishing it a few weeks later in Beijing. I performed it twice in The International Open Mic at the Bookworm in Beijing the 10 and 17 of May, 2006. Hope you like it...

Jack Raif

In this Paper

In this paper
I leave a statement
I exist
I am here
Or there
But I am who I was
Who I will be
Not who I am
But I am.

These cities, these countries
Are all a part of me

I write in English
But I am Panamanian
North America is in my eyes
But my heart belongs to Asia.
And usually I am mistreated
Because I dont fit the stereotype
Most people cant relate
To a two language speaking mind
A white skin man,
Who grew up black.
Who dont prejudge
But relies on first impression
Who knows poverty,
But now knows money,

Who has traveled from nowhere to somewhere, east to west, north to south, being dead, being alive, stripped the night sky of clouds to see that the future was all around.

I have fed my hungry soul
With multitude vibes from humans abroad
They have taught me many ways of thoughts
Points of view, enraging fire that makes evolution what it is
A constant movement to the future,
Unstoppable they say,
I say manipulate able

And some want to talk about freedom
When they are encaged in their little brains
Then blame the state for their lack of knowledge
I blame them for their lack of curiosity
If you search it
You will find it
Knowledge is out there.
You just have to grasp it.

I, with my very own eyes, have seen,
Night sky when I approach sleep,
Sun rise kissing my skin,
I have seen people come and go
I have laughed, I have cried, I have hated, I have loved,
And I only want to live just to watch where society is going,
I only want to live to see the next chapter of my life
To tell them who I was, but will be,
Not who I am,
But I am,

As I told them one day:

While most pedestrians choose to walk the easy path
Road Bridges, safety lines
And follow signs,
I love to walk blind folded in traffic
And get hit by life
There is no easy way to walk with the Gods
Incandescent, untouchable, unreachable,
In loneliness that makes them who they are,
Legends, immortal in time.
Thats who I am.

Yeah Baby, and Im not talking about my racoon infested state of mind, with a slick vibe and smooth taste for soliloquizing my ideas, its ever present in my egocentric nick nack paddywack dance, its a kiss to the sky for letting me be, who I will.

Let me be proud of my self-esteem
and dwell in different tracks of existence to find identity. I love this latino infested creativity or rhythms and agnostic precognition... I have turn into a reptile imbedded in skins of many ideals, of many cultures of many souls. I am not one anymore in the sense that I represent many but many makes up one... me.

A new beginning

2006-02-18T15:02:00.000+08:00

Its been more than 6 months since I haven't posted anything. Its been 6 months since I am in Beijing. I found a way to access my blog. I have been writing all those months though, and working on some new stuff.

Jack Raif (a.k.a Jorge)

2005-07-25T04:05:00.000+08:00

Me gusta dejarte triste,
Hacerte sufrir,
Verte llorar,
Discutir contigo,
Oírte gritar,
Ponerte celosa,
Tratarte como poca cosa.
Molestarte a toda hora,
Ocultarte lo que siento,
No compartir contigo el firmamento.
Jamás decir lo siento…
Y aún así me pregunto…
Por que es que yo te quiero?

Será por que haga lo que haga
No me abandonas,
Estas a mi lado y jamás me dejas a solas,
Por que ves más haya de ciertas cosas,
De mi falsa felicidad, mi depresión constante,
De mi soledad en grupo,
De mi carencia de Dios,
De los abusos de la sociedad,
De los pecados de mi ascendencia,
De no ser comprendido,
De ser diferente,
De mi autodestrucción, adicción, mi situación,
Necesidad de satisfacción, aflicción, enajenación de amores que no me pertenecen.

Estoy harto de complacer, llorar, sufrir, gritar, ocultar lo que siento, olvidar, olvidar, olvidar.

Será por eso que tenga que dejarlo todo y conformarme contigo?

Jack Raif

2005-07-04T13:15:00.000+08:00

Que sopá!
Que es lo que es?
Wapin buay?
Como te debo hablar
Para que me pueda comunicar
Expresarte que jugar vivo es jugar muerto
Que pensar en hoy y mañana no es suficiente
Tenemos que ir más haya del prójimo

Olvidar los placeres extranjeros,
El dinero que nos llega,
Las comodidades que nos ciegan,
Y el Dios que nunca nos encuentra.

Solo quiero decirte:
Despierta
O si no moriremos,
Entrelazado en un sistema impuesto,
No por nosotros, sino por el extranjero.

Tenemos la capacidad si dejamos las excusas,
De poder ser más de lo que somos
Sin dejar atrás de donde vinimos
Somos lo que queremos ser, y deberíamos querer ser NACIÓN.

El sueño es caminar agarrados de la mano
Hacía el futuro de la humanidad
No como mero espectador
Si no como una nación que toma acción.

Para esto debemos copiar lo bueno,
Analizar lo malo,
Hacer lo correcto,
Educarnos, educarnos, educarnos.

Tenemos que educarnos.
Debemos educarnos.
Para ser una gran NACIÓN

Me entiendes?

Te lo repito:
Tenemos que educarnos.
Debemos educarnos.
Para ser una gran NACIÓN

Para ser una gran Nación.
Si, Panamá.

Jack Raif

2005-07-03T16:28:00.000+08:00

If you want to die,
go out in flames,
thats the style.

Never look back,
satisfy the demons,
fuck life,
fuck death,

And specially fuck rebirth.

Begin to exist.

2005-06-27T01:46:00.000+08:00

Amantes,
Es difícil conseguir pares,
La aritmética de antaño,
Ha sido tergiversada por la alquimia.

Uno más uno ya no es igual a dos, sino tres
La trinidad solo funciona para los dioses,
Como mortales solo debiera ser suficiente:
Tu y yo.

Amantes?
Si no es par
No es amar
Es solo jugar

Con los dragones que sobrevuelan el lago de fuego
Demonios de la carne débil
Que se entregan fácilmente a las pasiones
A los vicios que en soledad atormentan.

Pero dices que no eres mortal,
Y que puedes sumergirte en el mar de los caprichos,
Que sexo por sexo es solo eso, sexo…
Que el amor va más haya.

El sentimiento no tiene que ver con lo físico.
Que clase de deidad eres, bobita?
Se dilatan las pupilas, sudas frío pero hace calor,
El corazón se acelera y se hace difícil la respiración,
Sientes el vértigo, y no sabes por que diablos te sonrojas!
Olvidas lo de hace un momento,
Reacciones químicas por todo el cuerpo!

Que es esto? Amor.
Mi cuerpo, con tu cuerpo. Amor.
No es con cualquiera. Sino con tu Amor.

Así que jugaré al escéptico ateo
No creo en 3 sino en 2
En cuestiones del amor
Es mejor hacerle caso al corazón.

Jack Raif

2005-06-06T10:12:00.000+08:00

Soy un desgraciado, manipulador, mentiroso, adicto, una deshonra, prepotente, dañino. Soy todo. Lo malo.talvez. lo bueno. No me queda más que ser lo que soy. No puedo cambiar. Solo estoy. Solo tengo estas palabras. Solo me atormentan por que soy. Soy yo. Lo malo.talvez. lo bueno. Y mis errores son los peores, por que mis palabras son siempre hirientes. Lo malo, querida, es a veces lo mejor. Y si tu error fui yo, mi error es ser yo. Lo malo.talvez. lo bueno. Que tan mal me han tratado! Y se quejan cuando trato mal, tengo que aguantar, tengo que llorar, que tan mal me has tratado, y siempre te he perdonado, en mi corazón, pero no en mi acción.

Jack Raif

2005-05-29T11:59:00.000+08:00

These words
Carry the pain, the longing, and sense of hopelessness
Of every man,
Of every woman.

The stars are so far
But yet they can be seen.
No matter where you are
They can be seen
Though unreachable
They can be seen.

Reminding you
There’s a prize awaiting thee
Not in this life span
Maybe in two or more
But yet, they can be seen.

So wait my friend
Patience is a precious gift
Someday things that are way beyond our grasp
May one day become at hand.

So live life because you have to live
Not because you are expected to be
A legend, a knight, or a king,
It’ll all come someday
All you have to do is wait.
For the right time
To grasp the star
Make it yours
And laugh so hard

Life so easy
When you aren’t expected to be much
Cause you know someday things will come at hand
Love, money or that damn fucking star!

Jack Raif

2005-05-20T12:34:00.000+08:00

Opened my eyes last night
No stars shined
The moon wasn’t there
I closed my eyes;
And things started to appear
A black sun
A bright night
Opened or closed its all in the mind.

I’ve closed the doors for love.
No matter now if eyes are open or closed.
I’ve open the doors for life.
I have ceased to believe in all.

Im a danger to myself and to the one who reads
Wake up.
Same light.
No love.
Happiness denied.

Wake up.
Same job.
Shitty little destiny.
You aint going to be a legend.
You aint going to be shit.

Wake up.
Why wake up.
Close your god damn eyes.
Be still.
Listen to me.

Today I shall not believe in Love
Nor God for that matter,
Nor I will let people bullshit me about
How “special” I am,
And that I have a great future.
Today I will push lies
And tell people to fuck off
I don’t need true love, or recognition,
Or being important, or being loved,
Or true to myself or to anybody.

I just want to live.
I want to want to live.
And not care for any shit.
I want to want to care to be alive.
Not true love. Not money. Not God.
Don’t want to care if my eyes
Are opened or closed,
Just want to hear me breathing.
See my belly go up and down
And say… Damn, Im so fucking happy to be alive.

Jack Raif

P.S.: Yes, It's been a while... but surely not dead.

2005-05-03T11:54:00.000+08:00

Dumb, dumb Jack Raif
Poor little freak is insane
Things are not going well in his brain
But outside he is just all the same.

He needs to need
To feed on she
He has no will
To be on this:

Life fucked up place, I might be insane, but to you, I or him, we are all the same. You see no difference in life. Real or unreal, its much alike. I might be insane, but from me there is so much to learn, so much to be felt. Jack Raif is insane, he has altered his brain, to escape from people who don’t mean shit for him till this day. Its just that, I choose on what world to live, what things to see, the voices and the things I want to hear. Real or unreal, what’s the difference in life? Do you really belief you are reading this, or are you thinking it? Are you going insane? I’m I to blame?

I got no sense of words. They are always the same. I hate this, I loath that, I need love, I need trust. Need to be sane, to be normal and happy. Its always just the same, words, ideas, all over again. Fuck that, for now I will write happy poems:

She came today,
And kissed me
On a starry night
Close, heart by heart.
And she said… I love you

Yeah! I’ll write that kind of crap, cause you know why? Maybe it will happen! Maybe I really need a change of attitude, of destination, of ideals. I need to be a better man. Forget vices. Forget sadness. I just have to pull from this shit that I call my life, and live a good life. What ever the fuck that means.

But really. I need to change. I cant keep on like this. Im bored. Im tired. Absorbed by this thing called emptiness. No love. No God. Alone. I really need to breath, in the night sky, in open space, and feel those things that I much crave for. I really need change.

Jack Raif

Not worth it

2005-05-03T08:15:00.000+08:00

Desganado.

Cuando amas pero no te aman, una y otra vez, sientes el cansancio, la falta de oxígeno, que no llega al corazón. La larga carrera de ser aceptado, y compartir situaciones, la necesidad de ser amado, nos encarcela, punto esencial de nuestras vidas?

Pues me niego.

Se que no te encontraré. Qué deambularé los labios de muchas, pero que con ninguna me quedaré. Porque no soy suficiente. Ni para ellas, ni para mi ni para nadie. Así que renuncio a ti porque me canse de buscarte. Y talvez ese sea mi error. Buscarte. Pero inconscientemente siempre lo hago. No llegas y no te encuentras, no te acercas, no estas, olvidemos esas cosas, olvidemos el amor, que para mi eso es un libro de mitología, algo de lo que la gente habla, pero jamás pasa. Concentrémonos en las otras cosas de la vida! En un cielo azul, en nubes blancas, en el ritmo del saxofón tocando una tonada triste de jazz, en las estrellas, en lo poco que nos resta de vida.

Y si existes. Si existe esa persona que alguna vez va a amarme. Pues que me busque. Porque por mucho tiempo te he buscado, por mucho tiempo no te he encontrado, por mucho tiempo te he llorado y las lagrimas de los ojos se han secado. Es hora de que hagas algo por mi, y si es mucho para ti, buscarme, amarme, acompañarme, pues no me importas.

Por ahora aquí estaré, solo esta vez, sin conocer que es querer, sin conocer felicidad de verdad, para dar fin a esta etapa, que el alma conozca soledad, para en futuras vidas, poder esperar mucho más.

Jack Raif

2005-04-21T13:23:00.000+08:00

Puntos. Son suspensivos. Eso ya lo sabemos. Puntos para acentuar nuestra pasión. Punto para poner fin a nuestra relación.

Despierto y no se por que abro los ojos. Es acaso una mera acción física o involucra algo más? Donde esta el pull, the drive, la motivación de querer seguir una senda determinada? Para mi ya todo es igual, el amor, el odio, la pasión, el caos, el nacimiento, la destrucción. Todos son diferentes caras de una misma moneda. Y da la casualidad que mis monedas tienen mucho más de dos caras! Pero, para que seguir adelante?

No podemos generar en nuestros sentimientos la felicidad extrema sin la necesidad de estimulantes que datan desde substancias hasta cosas y personas. De ahí sale Dios. Y de ahí todo finalizo de existir. No podemos ser felices nosotros mismos. Es tan obvio que necesitamos algo. Buscarlo se vuelve nuestro destino. Cuando lo encontramos, tenemos que olvidarlo. Estoy convencido, cuando lo encontramos, tenemos que apartarlo.

Como poder explicarte todo lo que pienso sin ofenderte. No le veo importancia a nada de lo que parece real. Caminar no es un mero acto de ir adelante, puedes hacerlo hacia atrás. Y no lo veo importancia que destino tomar, siempre llegamos al mismo final. Y si soy grande o pequeño, todo depende de la óptica, del lente que utilices para verme.

Me canse de buscarte, de encontrarte, de sonreirte, de mirarte, de apreciarte, de besarte, de odiarte, de expresarte, de olvidarte, de soñarte, de amarte. No me puedes dar más de lo que yo te pudiera dar y eso es irrelevante, por que no me importas. Por que tus entrañas no pueden generar la energía suficiente para empujarme. Por que de verdad estoy solo. Sin conciencia. Sin Dios. Sin amor.

El precio de ser libre. El precio de caminar ningún camino. El precio por no elegirte.

Punto a ti. Punto a mi. Hoy dejamos de existir.

Jack Raif

2005-04-12T12:02:00.000+08:00

El ultimo día de la noche
Aquel con luz y sin enfoque
Mira como tiritas!
Las luces vienen y van!

A lo nuestro. Amor, de noche eres estrella. Tan lejos pero tan cerca. Una estrella, y mis sentimientos que viajan a la velocidad de la luz. Rápido. Si mi amor. Pero estas tan lejos que demoran años. Años luz.

Y acaso la luz sabe donde tu estas? Rápido es verdad. Pero sin dirección. Sin ninguna orientación. No sabemos tu ubicación

Así que amor, una noche me atrae esa bella dama negra. Que todo lo absorbe, que todo lo envenena. Esas de tanta oscuridad que cualquier camino que la luz deseé tomar, esta, a su centro, atraerá.

La culpa no es mía, es de tu falta de efectividad y mi abundante incapacidad para poder encontrarte. Y que mas da! Al fin si alguna vez llego a donde estas, hay más posibilidades de que ahí no te voy a encontrar. Así que culpemos a la Astronomía y cualquier otra cosa más. No te voy a encontrar. Ni como luz, ni como oscuridad. Pero…

El ultimo día de la noche
Aquel con luz y sin enfoque
Mira como tiritas!
Las luces vienen y van.

YO SOY UNA ESTRELLA FUGAZ, Y ALGUN DÍA TE VOY A ENCONTRAR!

Jack Raif

Hacia alante atraz

2005-04-08T14:00:00.000+08:00

Importa la nada
Esta contiene el todo
Los extremos son lindos
Pero desde el centro todo es mejor visto.

Así que olvida tu extrema belleza
Te quiero tal como eres
Olvida tu extrema inteligencia
Con tu sabiduría me basta
(a quién engañas!?)
Y si otoño es resucitar
Y el invierno para meditar
Que más vale vivirlo una vez
Si sabes que de nuevo lo sentiras

Medio es el meollo
De tus ojos
Que detentan arriba abajo
Sin perder el sentimiento de espacio.

Porque me hiciste inmensamente feliz triste
Así dijisteis, el amor es más perjudicial benigno
Por que de capullos salen mariposas y viceversa
Nada tiene explicación, y mucho menos el amor.

No. No vamos a ningún lado. El tiempo aquí ha quedado. Sembrado en la hortaliza de la historia. Por que los errores son nuestros surcos. Por que ellas tienen un límite. Pero yo soy el sembrador, tirando la semilla a los surcos. Una por una germinan, después de que yo las haya sembrado.

Así lo quiero. Así será. Porque entre más distante más cerca estas. Porque el por qué del asunto me confunde y me envenena. Y no hay explicación al por qué de los por qué. Un Dios? Un amor? Una mirada? Un alma? Responde conmigo: que importa! Que tanto me importa la tristeza. Que tanto me importa la felicidad. Yo quiero estar en el medio. Sin tu extrema belleza. Sin tu extrema inteligencia. Sin una razón para la existencia. Así nada duele. Así nada se mueve. Ni las venas de mi cuerpo. Ni las sombrías manecillas del tiempo.

Jack Raif

Northen skies, white eyes

2005-04-01T17:41:00.000+08:00

Pitch She.

Once when we were old we used to be so scared of her. The killer of men, they would say. But we have our ways and ways are not meant to be chosen, sometimes they just mean they have to be followed.

She is pitch in dark.
By hollow eyes
By dark sings
But she makes sense
Specially if you are snow blind

Pitch dark in her eyes
Though she is white
But love like this is hard to find
Ojos inmersos en ojos
Light in night sky

Do we have to talk?
Is there no way else to feel thy pleasure
Is used, unkind, and unfelt,
But sadness with you, never meant such happiness
And truth was never so much lies!

When we leave life
And in the northen sky I die
Cover me with so much snow
I can feel white,

Things I won’t have since tonight
I will have in greater life.

Die, die, die
Pain is ashes tray
In life there is so much to hate
Live life but begin to die
So much love when everything is white!

Jack Raif

Insomnio y explicaciones

2005-03-28T17:56:00.000+08:00

Doscientos setenta y cuatro veces he tratado de calmar mis pensamientos para poder conseguir el sueño. De esas tantas veces me vino el recuerdo de una persona que me decía que yo era un terrible escritor. Me parece extraño, pues en mi pequeño mundo estas letras arregladas a la forma que más me parezca tienen una estética sin igual dotada de carisma, peculiaridad, destreza y pasión. Esa es mi visión de mi persona. Mis palabras. Mi ser. Por otro lado no resto la posibilidad de que desde otro mundo, perspectiva o dimensión las cosas sean diferentes a lo que yo veo. Pero si yo me puedo poner en esos pantalones y ver otras perspectivas, entonces por que las demás personas no pueden ponerse en la mía? Fácil. Yo tengo la capacidad de ponerme en la perspectiva de casi todos. Llámalo capacidad intelectual, llámalo don, llámalo como mejor te parezca. Pero se, y estoy completamente convencido de que no es cualquiera que puede ver las cosas desde mi perspectiva. Incapacidad intelectual? Inconsistencia de personalidad? A quién le importa? La cuestión es que siempre me encuentro con personas que me andan diciendo: compréndelo, no seas así, por que todo lo tienes que ver desde tu punto de vista (y bien adentro me pregunto por que quisiera verlo desde el punto de vista de otro?), entiéndelo, etc, etc y más etcéteras que una carretera de asfalto. Por que no comprendes entonces mi forma de ver las cosas?

Doscientos setenta y cinco: la razón de que muchas veces no me exprese correctamente, no es falta de sapiensa, ni de claridad intelectual. Es algo más, algo que denomino como mente a-culturalmente bilingüe. I just dont give a fuck on which of the two languages I Express. I bet most of the readers who DO understand me are bilingual and can say: shit I can relate to that. But for the sake of dumb ass motherfuckers with limited brain cells and lack of disposition and education, tengo que escribir en un solo idioma, complicando las cosas que deseo expresar.

Doscientos setenta y seis: una de las otras razones que tiene que ver con la razón antes expuesta sobre la mente a-culturalmente bilingüe, es la de A.C. Se que me ha inspirado mucho y que su forma tan críptica de escribir se me ha pegado como una garrapata en las bolas de un perro (yeah, sometimes I disgust myself too, dont worry!). Pero es que A.C. es el que se ha interesado por mi, más que yo por el. Cierto A.C. tiene más de no se cuantos años muertos, pero cada vez que toy leyendo algo, sus libros comienzan a llamarme y no me dejan en paz hasta que los lea. Aunque sea dos o tres páginas. Por eso es que creo que Alrak no entiende de mucho de lo que escribo o como lo escribo. Pobre imbécil, si supiera que yo juego con los pensamientos como juego con mi sanidad mental. Que las preguntas que hago es para descifrar su forma de ser, para ver que es real y que es mentira. Luego con un par de oraciones destruyes todo lo que es. Era. O pudo ser. Usualmente no lo hago, pero si la veo, me permitiré este pequeño deleite.

Dosciento setenta y siete: es cierto no puedo dormir. Son en estos momentos que las teorías más locas son dictadas a mí por voces extrañas de otras dimensiones. Obviamente no es así, son de mi propia creación, solo que es divertido ponerle salsa al asunto. Mi teoría más reciente es la de viajar por el tiempo. El problema con viajar por el tiempo, es que creemos que “viajar” tiene que ser siempre de una forma MATERIAL (algo que apuesto que Alrak cree indudablemente). Pero yo creo que nuestros pensamientos son los que pueden viajar hacia delante o hacia tras. Es fácil la verdad. Trátalo! Desde un punto determinado mandate un pensamiento hacia el tiempo que más lo desees. Cuentáme después. Por desgracia hoy no puedo viajar. Mi mente esta sobre cargadas de melodramas y distracciones que usualmente no me molestarían, pero quisiera dormir, quisiera viajar por el tiempo y quisiera entre otras cosa, tener sexo. Soy hombre y las hormonas son predominantemente un factor que rige la vida de todo hombre. Cosa extraña que para que los grandes pensadores hombres pudieran PENSAR, tuvieron que alejarse de la sociedad y someterse a una dieta para combatir esas hormonas. Por muy loco que parezca es verdad. Ejemplo: Mahoma, Jesús, Buda, etcétera etcétera y más etcéteras que una mujer en parches de testosteronas.

Dosciento setenta y ocho: soy indudablemente extraño. El vocablo especial no va conmigo, ya que especial denota que algo extraordinario debería tener. Bueno, aunque pensándolo bien, si lo pongo de esa manera, si lo soy. No veo el verde oscuro, lo veo chocolate. Bueno pues, ahora me considero especial e indudablemente extraño. Pero no por eso signifique que no sienta y que no tenga poderes sobrenaturales. No significa que me puedan mentir y tratar de la manera que más les convengan. Melodramas y técnicas de autodestrucción personal. Buen titulo para un CD. Será mejor que me vaya a dormir.

Dosciento setenta y nueve: todavía no puedo. Tendré que comentarle este episodio a mi psiquiatra. No lo conocén? No puede que ser que no se los haya mencionado. His name is Von Kundelman and he is ze bezt sicocrazy mother fucker in the World. La verdad es otra de mis amigos imaginarios. Pero es muy divertido, none the less. El es el que usualmente analiza a la gente alrededor mía y también es el que me analiza. No por que sea de mi creación sea menos objetivo. Sino preguntale a Dios por lucifer (ver la luz). Canalla sueño, antes no estaba… ahora ya esta llegando…. Eso es todo por hoy …. Es todo por que me voy…. Por que tengo una cruz invertida que la miro desde abajo hacia arriba…. Bye.

Jack Raif

Marzo 13, 2005

2005-03-15T14:30:00.000+08:00

How I wish you weren’t so lost
If so I could be found
But it’s been so long since I’ve seen your face,
Touched your hands or smelled your hair.

My lips hasn’t really felt any lips since you went away
They’ve kissed but I didn’t feel shit, guess all was fake.

Is there a way to let you know
How special were you in those days
Sweet time never felt good
4 letter words never meant so much
As when it came out from you.

Have we no way to relive the experience
No external method to create “the same”
Why just feel once?
What’s wrong with twice.

I want your kisses
Your smell
And your love

Why must it all come to and end
Never your love, all is gone,
You are lost
And I’ll never be found.

Jack Raif.

2005-03-08T09:57:00.000+08:00

Y sin ti no puedo vivir. Así cerro el capítulo de lo inevitable. Poco a poco sus palabras iban adentrándose en mi mente. Comprendí: no hay nada para siempre. Y por última vez se entrego, muriendo por última vez en mis brazos.

Que tan frecuente ama un poeta? Las veces que sean necesarias.

Que tan lejos esta el final? Tan lejos como tú quieras. Y ella decidió finalizar hoy. Y yo decidí empezar y caminar junto a la orilla del Eufrates, todo tiene un comienzo, si, pues, es verdad, pero no todo tiene que tener un final.

Jack Raif

P.S.: de encuentros y reencuentros inevitables. Las cosas pasan, para algunos solo pasan, para otros solo suceden, para mi son solo sorpresas.

De vodka y vainilla

2005-03-06T16:48:00.000+08:00

Querer dormir en ensueño
Soñar contigo mientras estoy despierto

Querer tenerte cerca
Aunque seas inalcanzable como una estrella

Compartir un instante
Regalándome una mirada
Regalándote una ilusión
Disfrutando ambos la pasión

Cuestionando que es de verdad el amor?
Pues eso es lo que los que aman preguntan,
Será esto de verdad amor?

Será lo que sea cuando es lo que quiere ser
Querida amada,
No importa los años,
Ni la existencia, ni la cultura, ni la advertencia

Los ojos se hicieron para ver
Los oídos para escuchar
Los labios para besar
Y tu y yo para amar.

Mientras más lo niegues
Más me quieres
Mientras más te alejes
Más me sientes.

Jack Raif

P.S.: para instantes en que los desgastes emocionales son igual a las tristezas pasionales, no importa ni tiempo ni espacio, cuando de verdad quieras, de verdad estaré a tu lado.

Creencias

2005-03-02T13:01:00.000+08:00

Yo tengo una cruz inversa
No por eso no crea,
Sino la miro de cabeza

Y talvez lo que para ti sea odio
Para otros sea amor
Y la felicidad un paso a la tristeza
Matices de lo que quieres que sea.

Pero tu IMPONES
Quien te da el derecho a crear el derecho?

Quien te crees para jugar el papel de vocero de Dios?
Qué te hace tan especial?

Asumes la posición que más cómoda te parezca
No el punto de vista que mejor veas

Y me obligas a que baje la vista
A tu forma tan ridícula,
A tu perspectiva tan chiquita,
Simplemente para degradarme.

Yo creo en lo que creo
Tu en lo que los demás creen.

Yo de cabeza.
Tú a la inversa.

Nuit

2005-02-28T11:12:00.000+08:00

Me aferro a nada
Por que nada es lo que tengo

Me aferro a ti
Por que eres nada
Por eso lo eres todo

En esta noche de tanto dolor
Donde no existe nada ni todo
Que más queda que lagrimas

Un poema sin esencia
Canciones sin tonada
Una noche sin sentido
Con mucha lógica me reprimo

No te llamo
Por que no me amas
No te oigo
Por que no me amas
No te sueño
Por que no me amas
Y no te amo
Por que no me amas.

Un camino sin distancias
Sin cielo azul
Sin tonadas
Amargo amor
Dulce dolor

Una noche con todo
Pero nada de amor
Un día sin luz
Por que el sol eras tu.

Jack Raif

Eco de Imágenes

2005-02-22T05:36:00.000+08:00

Dicen por ahí
Cosas bonitas de mí
pero yo no soy así

indiferente a mi mente y a la gente
que pretenden
ser situaciones en una ilusión
difícil de materializar

Un dibujo animado desgarrado de toda perceptibilidad
Un sueño no imaginado, directriz de aquella salud mental que jamás llegará.

Empecemos por hacernos viejos,
Y de empezar los besos con los ojos abiertos,
Ves algo ahí adentro?
Soy el reflejo de tu ser siendo yo
El que no desea ver
Que tanto me parezco a ti
Por que no suelo enamorarme de mí
Y que nadie sienta de mí cosas así

Pretendamos que hay miles de espejos
Y que a pesar que seamos iguales
Seamos diferentes
A la indiferencia
Que tanto nos asecha

Quiéreme como si quisieras a ese reflejo
Como si estuvieras segura de que la imagen eres tu
pero siempre existe la duda:
Tiene vida propía?

No asumo que los caminos nos guíen a algún final
Por que ningún fin es consistente
Así que prefiero dudar
Que las cosas bonitas que dicen de mí
Es realidad,
Un sueño que jamás va a pasar.
Pero como no amar a aquella imagen
Que eres tú pero soy yo
Dentro de una misma dimensión
Talvez con diferente final
Pero asumamos que nada va a ir mal
Por el bien de mi imagen
Por el malestar de la tranquilidad
Pensemos que nos hemos besado
Para jamás dar final
A algo que jamás comenzó.

Jack Raif

Simplemente observando

2005-02-14T11:49:00.000+08:00

Quiero verlo todo desde afuera,
Sentarme y analizar la forma en que se comportan,
No quiero participar en sus juegos de poder,
Ni deseo manipular la mente para conseguir creyentes.

Quiero verlo todo desde afuera,
Ver Imperios caer y otros crecer,
El tiempo pasar, y las cosas que van,
En un instante vuelven a regresar.

La magia de los profetas a un lado deseo ver,
Míralos tomar vuelo, ahora míralos caer.
No hay bueno ni malo, solo diferentes formas de ser.
Quiero verlos a todos morir, crecer y nacer.

Y deseo verlos reencarnar: nacer, crecer y morir.
Cuando de verdad empiezas a ver,
No hay ni principio ni fin,
Talvez todo sea lo que es.

Deseo Verlo todo desde afuera,
Así no me atormentan,
Ni tendría que tomar decisiones,
Verlo todo desde afuera,
Me parece que es la mejor manera
De deshacernos de esta condena
Que algunos llamamos vida
Para volverlo una recompensa
Solo abre los ojos y mira.
Desde el fondo hacia arriba,
Dame la mano que por ahí es la salida.

Jack Raif

Y que más da?

2005-02-14T10:31:00.000+08:00

Hay un camino largo
Cuya distancia no nos deja ver el final
Y aunque pudiese ser corto
Jamás sabremos a donde irá.

Desde mi carro
Decido que rumbo tomar
Pero no te engañes,
Ya sabemos que algún día moriras.

Pero aun así pierdo el tiempo
Pensando en tus besos,
En acariciar tu senos,
Y soñar en morir en tu lecho.

Aunque sepa que el final es inevitable
Me engaño pensando que el amor es eterno
Que no existe momentos
Que jamás sentire lamento.

Hay un camino corto
Cuya distancia nos deja ver el final
Y aunque pudiese ser largo
Jamás sabremos a donde irá.

Si. Sabes que moriras.
Pero no a quien atormentaras.
Ni los amores que dejaras atrás.
Solo por qué crees que la vida es mejor en el más haya.

Pero…

Hay un camino sin sendas
Donde yo quiero estar
Sin tristeza ni felicidad
Sin principio ni final
Rumbo a ningún lugar
No se llama destino
Ni tampoco felicidad
Son solo pocos
Lo que conocen la libertad.
Y ellos caminan solos con la frente en alto
Sin miedo, con ojos cerrados y callados
Sus antojos son sus guías
Edifican caminos para crear sus destinos
Son magos sin baritas
Dioses sin camino final.

Jack Raif

2005-01-24T13:06:00.000+08:00

Debo dedicarte un instante
Para acordarme
Que estas tan distante

Tomarme el tiempo
Para olvidar los excesos
Y pensar: en mi.

Dedicarte largas horas a conocerte
Y apreciarte,
Acordarme que eres lo más importante.

Vivir es un proceso de ir adelante
Pero tu eres lo más importante.
Vivir es un proceso de llegar al final.
Pero tu eres lo más importante.

Y cuando aquellos te sofocan
Y dicen que olvides tu presencia
Libera esa energía... demuéstrales tu esencia...

Nuestra presencia, para ellos, es una ofensa
Pensamos sin hilos de marionetas
Caminamos hacia arriba en vez de línea recta.

No necesitamos al conjunto para subsistencia
Le dedicamos tiempo a nuestra existencia
Por eso es que tanto se molestan.

Debo dedicarte un instante
Para acordarme
Que tan distante estas

Pues me miro en el espejo
Y no reconozco al que veo
Dime, quien es el que esta ahí adentro?

Jack Raif

2005-01-02T08:45:00.000+08:00

I need escapism
Ease the mind
From my present deeds.

It just crawls up to my spine
Inside me head
I need to forget:

Deeds. Weed. Me

Wrong choices have been made
I accept consecuenses, I must pay,
But cant I have inner peace at least for today?

Can’t my tears make me forget
The foolish things I’ve said
The actions I dont want to tell
I cant even write them, I feel so ashame.

Im struggling inside, so I write,
No one cares, so I write,
I feel bad, so I write,
For maybe this way
Some one would read me and say
I feel thy pain Jack Raif
And would cast a spell for my sake
Letting me slip away from this hell.

Jack Raif

2004-12-06T13:06:00.000+08:00

A veces de sueños se construye el futuro
Y no siempre el futuro sera lo mejor
Solo significa seguir adelante.

Cuanta tristeza se avecina
Abrazamos nuestra melancolía con ternura
Y el comienzo hacia atrás
Es lo que nos impulsa a seguir adelante

En el abismo lo único que se aprecia
El distante cielo azul con nubes blancas
Pero la felicidad a veces duele más que la tristeza
Y cuando has caminado mucho como yo
Solo deseas la sombra fresca de un hoyo.

Dejemos de mentirnos,
No podemos escapar de nada,
Afrontemos el destino,
Con cara lánguida
Ahí viene nuestra tristeza
No huyas, solo atente a las consecuencias.
Hoy no sufrirás
Ni lloraras
Los agentes de aquel sistema ya fueron absorbidos
Como los asesinos y la hazaña de ingerir veneno todo los días
No sufrirás
Pero el dolor ahí estará
No aguanto el pellejo
Esta es mi solución a ti
A ellos, a todo.
Definitivamente sabes que estamos locos.

Jack Raif

Escape

2004-12-01T09:46:00.000+08:00

Descansa. Inhala. Exhala. Descansa.
Olvida el dolor de vivir.
Inhala. Exhala. Descansa.
Sufrir es una mera ilusión,
Un estado mental de decepción,
Lo puedes controlar amigo, solo...
Inhala. Descansa. Exhala. Descansa.
La vida es una repetición de patrones inexplicables
Puesto en movimiento por energía
Un solo ritmo, y repite conmigo,
Inhala. Descansa. Exhala. Descansa.
Sal de tu cuerpo, déjalo en piloto automático
Inhala. Descansa. Exhala. Descansa.
El universo es más que material
Esta cerca de tu comprensión
Sal de ti mismo y rompe las barreras
Y crea, crea lo que quieras,
Palabras, universos, dioses,
Mares, sociedades o deidades,
Inhala. Descansa. Exhala. Descansa.
Un mar de situaciones en el cual
Cada instante sea un orgasmo de felicidad.
Donde tu haces el mundo
No el mundo a ti
Donde solo tienes que...
Inhalar. Descansar. Exhalar. Descansar.
Ese es el secreto.

Jack Raif

2004-11-24T13:51:00.000+08:00

Ha llegado el día
En que lo bueno es malo
Y lo malo es bueno

Momento en el cual es preciado ser perverso, y desgraciado ser correcto.

Por eso cambiaré mi forma de ser
Para poder comprender que es lo que debo hacer
No abriré puertas a la damas,
Diré qué.
es por qué.
no quiero manipularlas.
No diré ni bueno días ni muchas gracias,
Pues no es necesario, a quien se engañan.
Daré limosnas en vez de consejos
Así tengo el control sobre el pobre y su superación.
Golpearé a las personas
Por que esa es la única forma de enseñar
Obviaré mi deber familiar
Acaso yo pedí que me engendrarán?
Me enamoraré de lo interno
Pues seré hipócrita: la belleza no importa
Cuidaré mi físico
Pues olvidare lo espiritual
Buscare la perfección
El balance no interesa

Pero como ser lo que no puedo ser? Mi energía deambula sobre el cuerpo como un patrón de conducta, has esto, has el otro, y no puedo, simplemente no puedo ser lo que el tumulto humano desea de mi.

Que tan malo es ser bueno?
La pregunta nos aterra por que sabemos
que hemos sucumbido a lo fácil, a la ilusión de un sentir momentario
que nos deja tan vacío como una ciudad rellena de personas.

Nueva York, que mueran 200 personas, mas conglomerado será la espiritualidad cuando haya espacio para pensar.

Barcelona, por que te engañas tan despiadadamente, destruye esas cadenas de conformismo y orgullo y demuestra la fuerza interna, esa si es fuerza, aquella que viene del pensar. Meditar. Espiritualidad. Bondad.

Silencio para aquellos muertos que deambulan mis pensamientos (200 muertos que sin ellos no existiría este pensamiento). Por que lo bueno es siempre bueno, y mientras tu hagas lo que crees es correcto, no habrá ni infierno ni cielo. Amen.

Jack Raif

2004-11-16T11:45:00.000+08:00

Sistema.
De adentro a afuera.
Sistema.
Me envenena.
Sistema.
Siempre presente
Sistema.
Por qué me encadenas?
Sistema.
Por que todo es un
Sistema ?

Romper la estructura de algo que no tiene estructura, desafortunadamente, no encuentro manera de no ver semejanzas, ni envoltura, un sendero sin camino, un sol sin luz, un dios sin creyentes. Sistema, eres ajena, a mi locura, Sistema, que nos envuelves, no nos dejas, Sistema, apretas el pescuezo pero no atormentas, por que cuando no hay sistema, hay sistema.

1 palabra 2 palabras 3 palabras es igual a 6 palabras.

Busca el sistema, y la encuentras.

A es igual a B cuando C es igual a B pero mayor que A.

Encuentras la búsqueda del sistema aferrándote a lo irreal, para oprimir un sistema que no se encuentra. Párteme la mente. Por que me das lógica para no comprenderte? Dios. Por que me das lógica para no entenderte?

Soy todo, nada, alguien, nadie, dentro del sistema.

Jack Raif

2004-11-11T12:49:00.000+08:00

LEARNING TO SLEEP WITH JOY.

Wide awakened
In a sweet dream
I drift like a lonesome soul
Wondering in human form.

I cant sleep.

Consiousness its a bitch!
She sayz.
Nothing is for free!

Knowledge. can something bad sprang from this?
Yeah It can, everything has two sides
One bad and one right
Choose whatever and lets start this ride!

Joy
For this, lets begin, forget all systems.
Forget oppresion
Forget love
Forget war
Forget conciouseness
Forget religion
Forget life as you know it
Forget Death

When all is forgotten
Create all your new conceptions
In base of this question,
Good or bad, what was your election?

If you want for sadness to be happiness construct new concepts
And lets surf on the wave of creativity,
For you are god, and you can do what ever you want.

And learn, dear fellow, learn all there is to learn,
For when the moment comes, you will recognize it
And you’ll know you are happy
Because you have learned....

Learned that good and evil are just two faces of the same coin
Learned that happiness does come from sadness
Learned that joy is happiness and sadness at the same time

And that this story is right
And that tonight, for the first time,
You’ll forget all your sins,And have a nice night.

Jack Raif

Paralela

2004-11-09T10:51:00.000+08:00

Me siento como una línea paralela,
Bien y mal al mismo tiempo,
Mucho tiempo, para mi tiempo, para el tiempo
Pues me siento como una línea paralela,
Como dos corazones que nunca se encuentran
El mismo camino en diferentes frecuencias.
Y tu, donde te encuentras?
Acaso eres la otra línea paralela?
Me lees y no te das cuenta!

Pequeño espacio entre tu y yo
Pequeño espacio a lo largo e infinito
Jamás te tendré, jamás te veré,
Pero ahí estas, en línea recta,
A lo largo e infinito,
A lo largo. Maldito. Infinito.

Y no por eso no te sienta.
Pues me siento como una línea paralela.

Jack Raif

Who am I ?

2004-11-08T12:19:00.000+08:00

Who am I, Who am I, Who am I?
The weird kid, always silent, head down, just listening.
Who am I?
Questioning authority while I should be following the ones that follows...
No man...
Im casually just strolling around...
looking, but not daring getting inside...
you know where am getting at?
Its more fun to watch it, than to be in it.
---------------this is who I am--------------
The one that cares:
Just when anyone stop loving, I would beleive, give a chance, hurt myself, but knew I knew better..
Just when they stop beleiving... I was there, pushing, caring, and grabbing you so you could
catch on.

The one who loves:
I care, not just the sex, not just the fucking, the drinking and the wild times...
I want to listen, to be trusted, to be taken care of, to love and to be loved...
And in order to get that, I know I must know myself to love, yes! Im prepared for that!

The one that feels:
I can feel the light,
I can feel whats right,
I can feel whats wrong,
I can feel the one and only.
I can feel you.

The one who wants to know
The one
The
You
Yo
y
Tu.

Jack Raif

Mer-ka-ba

2004-11-08T07:22:00.000+08:00

Es tentador pensar en el proximo paso de nuestra evolución. Es facil caer enamorados del concepto de poder viejar con nuestras mentes y conocer otros mundos...

2004-11-07T10:34:00.000+08:00

I feel drained. Too much shit happens around me that I dont fucking like. If I try to change things, then Im the one whos fucked up! What to do man, what to do. So I block things, lock myself in my world. But how sane in all this?

My mind is still upset by my changes, but is addapting.

Please let there be light where the deepness of the fall kills it.

Jack Raif

days dark as night

2004-11-07T06:57:00.000+08:00

I rather sleep at sunrise. be awaken at sundown.
you were the sun, and I havent find you.
Let me live in dark then, cause admission to the world
would mean I accept things as they are,
but is this world that throws us apart.

Change. Change. It will find you and bring you to me.
for this words are deep, and I know a star shall shine
and a path will appear, and aghast! You. and Me.
YaM siht neppah.