The top of the mountain

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOURo9ICX24 

this is the atmosphere where the poem breathes beuaty I think need both

the one who sees and the one who is seened And isnt outside of that link You might say well he or she is beautifull Yeah, sure. But thats not what I mean I mean like... A mix between body and mind words and lips, hair and touch, skin and hands there it is... when someone is beaulifuly seen when you see his or her value that is not at grasp There is where beauty resides The very essence of it where your wonders resides and your shadows full of magic, full of struggling, fight and wounds when we see what we really are, what we wanna be... when we see us beautyful your journey, all the times you fell, the books you read, the movies you saw, all that growth. I see ourselves on the top of the mountain. You might say there are taller mountains. Yes there are, but look back. Can you see all the way you make? all the hard times you went through? all the times you fought, against you, against them. The good and hard times... All the tears, all the hugs, the kisses and the times that two were one. How you can say its not enought? all the dificulty breathing when in your nek were knots. All the laughts and the people gone, the dreams and the thoughts. The manners and ideas that pass to you from people whose not here anymore. You are on the top of the mountain. Do not despise the steps you made, the stumbles in the way, no one knows about all those heart breaks, the sadness, all the times you were about to quit, the times you crumble... Thats what makes you beautiful. Dont be hard on yourself, you are on the top of the mountain, embrace youself

DNU para hoy, hambre para mañana

 Poca diferencia al ser de boca creo que haya

porque mientras el país estalla, allá creen

que está allá estallando lo malo y se alegran

como perros que se muerden la cola y celebran

como la serpiente que a sí se traga 

Y así trabada la razón se halla encallada

y prima pos-verdad sobre verdad allanada

valla valla valla, policías que golpean y disparan

votan botas las voluntades compradas

votan hambre y botan granadas

Nunca se conquistó ningún derecho desde la comodidad de una casa

gozamos los frutos regados con la sangre de personas que han sido marchas

¿No vemos el amor de las personas que dejan su hoy por nuestro mañana?

No ignoremos que antes sacaban a bastones largos lo que hoy te desfinancian

¿Qué narrativa del espanto guía esta locura, de magistral escritura?

que me tiene el corazón en la mano, el alma en la boca

la opresión en la calle del pecho y las lágrimas en el hoy de mañana

aunque la boca grite con la garganta anudada

al final, con el tiempo, volviendo los ojos a las historias pasadas

vemos que es un péndulo y que no se llega ver en la vida la vida mejorada

peros sí se llega a saber aunque no se vean, que los ricos siempre ganan