andalucidity

mystical musings, random reveries and various writings from the sun-soaked south of spain

Month: January 2017 (Page 1 of 2)

If star shine could kill …

… I’d volunteer.

compass

heading down the streets
right from where we left off

northern nocturnals;
day trippers in the
southern slush

where did it all go

those
years?

full they were
with emptiness

and yet i don’t
know what i
prefer

silvery stars or
multicolor
neon
lights

Here’s looking at you, kit.

Neither mortal nor immortal

Times are strange. They always are. And there’s no such thing as life, by the way, for there’s no such thing as death. Black is black cause white is white. They both imply each other, and we know them by contrast.

But being dead is not an experience one can have. It’s not a feeling like sadness or happiness. It is, frankly, completely fucking impossible to know what it’s like being dead (for pretty obvious reasons).

Ergo: being alive’s not an experience one can have. There’s just no such thing as “being alive” for there’s simply no such thing as “being dead”.

It’s all just words. And we’re enslaved by them.

Time to break free.

haiku

met my love today,
smelled her salt and heard her waves;
two birds on a stone

Calahonda, Mon Amour

zeroing in
zeroing out

now we’re
higher than
the hair on
the godhead

we walk
along the
unbustling
bars, smiling
at some kids

cause we’re
like them i
guess

but leathery
from our
decade in
the sun

el zoco
glows
in the
night

& we’re
like moths

& there’s
nothing
more
than
this

tell me
one thing
more than
this

Cloud Avalanche, seen from the road to Benalmádena

Wish You Were Here

Wish you were here, you bullrush of a sky-eyed chica

Wish you were here amongst the sand dunes

Wish you were here amidst the palm trees

Wish you were here by the mediterranean

Wish you were here in the sunny south

Wish you were here eating apples in the roman ruins

Wish you were here drinking wine in the moorish castles

Wish you were
here breathing
the air of the
jagged
montañas

Wish you were
here on the
picturesque
plazas,
dazzling
pensioners
with your
otherworldly
grace

deseo que
estuvieras
aquí

Along

Today (ok it was technically yesterday), on my way to Fuengirola, I marvelled at a cluster of wispy clouds seemingly glued to the horizon. It was sunset, and I was dead set on having a jolly evening.

And that I had.

Sincerely and perpetually yours,
Seb

?

“Are we lost?” he asked.

“Nah. Just a bit disoriented,” she answered.

 

 

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