THE CITY THAT SAW MY BIRTH

BUT NOT MY DEATH

This City will finish me off

while I look into the eye of the world

the twilight of the future,

from going to earthly paradise

I do not want to suffer any more in this desert

where the Cardinal greets me!

I am the antichrist, that’s why I wear

what I have never been. I close my eyes.

                             Sorry, but

I do not want to continue at the top

of the shit with the brunette.

Maybe a blonde, a pint, or an

aging red wine from 98.

Heroin entered my veins in

97 while I looked at a painting

by Warhol. I look at my watch and

observe its face. I think:

                       ”I’m late in the afternoon”

                       (against nobody)

Marilyn Monroe greets me

madly from a serigraphy

                         With grace.

Pictorial asymmetries.

The poor heroine must have a debt

with society, while I urinate,

 the dreamlike thoughts

are carried away by the nice winds.

I want to be the antichrist,

that’s why I hear the voices of God like thunder

inside my lungs

like cannon shots, blows, smacks

        Don’t piss me off,         (don’t lock me up)

        Or if you prefer, don´t bother me.

        Don’t hit me anymore! I already know that I have erred

and I have inherited the germ of evil.

I have made a mistake

        They will come

the horsemen of the Apocalypse to pick me up

with nostalgia. My anger will go to the grave

with the dead... I see crows

        around me!

Who await my arrival naked

with the dead,

But I will take my memories

With me inside my jacket

        From now on.

Carlos Chatam     May 12th, 2003

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