Martín Jiménez Guerra

16/05/2012

Poesía contra poesía

Martín Jiménez Guerra nació con la mirada vestida de poeta. Disfruta de la azarosa fortuna de escribir libros de poesía. Averigua eso de ser poeta. Se refugia en la lectura y se desarma en la escritura. Compartimos tres de sus poesías.

Fusión Sordo de un pie no sé bailar la vida si no es desde tu mano. Lo que queda de mí El efecto lateral de extrañarte se acurruca entre el vacío a mi izquierda y lo que queda de mí del otro lado. En cada luna me analiza con su mirada verde, brillante, insidiosa y cree derrumbar aquel muro de nubes que creció como una caricia huérfana de manos.  A veces siento el viento de tu voz dándole oxígeno a mis sueños. Otras tantas abrazo tu ausencia como aquella hoja que se aferra a la vida para luego suicidarse en Otoño. Es imposible esquivar los recuerdos, matar al olvido y enterrarte de mi memoria. Es absurdo querer hacerlo. Veintitrés vueltas desesperadas y un poema devastador    Voy a limpiarme de mí sacarme la muerte de los labios. Vomitaré metáforas crueles   desde el fondo de mi ferocidad. Me sostendré de la memoria maquillada y despediré la puta hipoteca sobre este muerto papel en blanco. Voy a lavarme los miedos con los sucios dedos de la inconsciencia. Acomodaré el vacío a la izquierda como si yo fuera un holograma de mí y vos, una repetición de ella. Voy a lamer la suela de mis poemas para ver si todavía andás por ahí. Voy a llenarte de hormigas las venas, abrazar tu angustia y lanzarnos al otro lado de vos. Voy a morder el tumor de la no vida y escupirlo en el rostro de aquel Dios de cotillón. Voy a escribir un poema.

Mississippi - Bob Dylan

Mississippi

Every step of the way we walk the line
Your days are numbered, so are mine
Time is pilin’ up, we struggle and we scrape
We’re all boxed in, nowhere to escape

City’s just a jungle; more games to play
Trapped in the heart of it, tryin' to get away
I was raised in the country, I been workin’ in the town
I been in trouble ever since I set my suitcase down

Got nothin' for you, I had nothin' before
Don’t even have anything for myself anymore
Sky full of fire, pain pourin’ down
Nothing you can sell me, I’ll see you around

All my powers of expression and thoughts so sublime
Could never do you justice in reason or rhyme
Only one thing I did wrong
Stayed in Mississippi a day too long

Well, the devil’s in the alley, mule’s in the stall
Say anything you wanna, I have heard it all
I was thinkin’ 'bout the things that Rosie said
I was dreaming I was sleepin' in Rosie’s bed

Walkin' through the leaves, falling from the trees
Feelin' like a stranger nobody sees
So many things that we never will undo
I know you’re sorry, I’m sorry too

Some people will offer you their hand and some won’t
Last night I knew you, tonight I don’t
I need somethin’ strong to distract my mind
I’m gonna look at you ’til my eyes go blind

Well I got here followin' the southern star
I crossed that river just to be where you are
Only one thing I did wrong
Stayed in Mississippi a day too long

Well my ship’s been split to splinters and it’s sinkin' fast
I’m drownin’ in the poison, got no future, got no past
But my heart is not weary, it’s light and it’s free
I’ve got nothin’ but affection for all those who’ve sailed with me

Everybody movin’ if they ain’t already there
Everybody got to move somewhere
Stick with me baby, stick with me anyhow
Things should start to get interestin' right about now

My clothes are wet, tight on my skin
Not as tight as the corner that I painted myself in
I know that fortune is waitin’ to be kind
So give me your hand and say you’ll be mine

Well, the emptiness is endless, cold as the clay
You can always come back, but you can’t come back all the way
Only one thing I did wrong
Stayed in Mississippi a day too long

Copyright © 1997 by Special Rider Music

One more cup of coffe (Valley below)

One More Cup Of Coffee (Valley Below)

Your breath is sweet n jewish.
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight, your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie`.
But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love.
Your loyalty is not to me
but to the stars above.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ’fore I go
To the valley below

Your daddy he’s an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He’ll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ’fore I go
To the valley below

Your sister sees the future
like your mama and yourself.
You’ve never learned to read or write.
There’s no books upon your shelf
and your pleasure knows no limits.
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like an ocean
mysterious and dark

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ’fore I go
To the valley below

Copyright © 1975, 1976 by Ram's Horn Music; renewed 2003, 2004 by Ram’s Horn Music

Anandoned Love - Bob Dylan

Abandoned Love


My heart is, darling, thee.

I can hear the turning of the key
I’ve been deceived by the clown inside of me
I thought that he was righteous but he’s vain
Oh, something’s a-telling me I wear the ball and chain

My patron saint is a-fighting with a ghost
He’s always off somewhere when I need him most
The Spanish moon is rising on the hill
But my heart is a-tellin’ me I love ya still

I come back to the town from the flaming moon
I see you in the streets, I begin to swoon
I love to see you dress before the mirror
Won’t you let me in your room one time ’fore I finally disappear?

Everybody’s wearing a disguise
To hide what they’ve got left behind their eyes
But me, I can’t cover what I am
Wherever the children go I’ll follow them

I march in the parade of liberty
But as long as I love you I’m not free
How long must I suffer such abuse
Won’t you let me see you smile one time before I turn you loose?

I’ve given up the game, I’ve got to leave
The pot of gold is only make-believe
The treasure can’t be found by men who search
Whose gods are dead and whose queens are in the church

We sat in an empty theater and we kissed
I asked ya please to cross me off-a your list
My head tells me it’s time to make a change
But my heart is telling me I love ya but you’re strange

One more time at midnight, near the wall
Take off your heavy makeup and your shawl
Won’t you descend from the throne, from where you sit?
Let me feel your love one more time before I abandon it

Copyright © 1975 by Ram's Horn Music; renewed 2003 by Ram’s Horn Music

To Ramona Bob Dylan

To Ramona

Ramona
Come closer
Shut softly your watery eyes
The pangs of your sadness
Shall pass as your senses will rise
The flowers of the city
Though breathlike
Get deathlike at times
And there’s no use in tryin’
T’ deal with the dyin’
Though I cannot explain that in lines

Your cracked country lips
I still wish to kiss
As to be under the strength of your skin
Your magnetic movements
Still capture the minutes I’m in
But it grieves my heart, love
To see you tryin’ to be a part of
A world that just don’t exist
It’s all just a dream, babe,
A vacuum, a scheme, babe,
That sucks you into feelin’ like this

I can see that your head
Has been twisted and fed
By worthless foam from the mouth
I can tell you are torn
Between stayin’ and returnin’
On back to the South
You’ve been fooled into thinking
That the finishin’ end is at hand
Yet there’s no one to beat you
No one t’ defeat you
’Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad

I’ve heard you say many times
That you’re better ’n no one
And no one is better ’n you
If you really believe that
You know you got/have
Nothing to win and nothing to lose
From fixtures and forces and friends
Your sorrow does stem
That hype you and type you
Making you feel
That you must be exactly like them

I’d forever talk to you
But soon my words
They would turn into a meaningless ring
For deep in my heart
I know there is no help I can bring
Everything passes
Everything changes
Just do what you think you should do
And someday maybe
Who knows, baby
I’ll come and be cryin’ to you

Copyright © 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1992 by Special Rider Music

This Wheel´s On Fire

This Wheel's On Fire

If your mem’ry serves you well
We were goin’ to meet again and wait
So I’m goin’ to unpack all my things
And sit before it gets too late
No man alive will come to you
With another tale to tell
But you know that we shall meet again
If your mem’ry serves you well
This wheel’s on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode!

If your mem’ry serves you well
I was goin’ to confiscate your lace
And wrap it up in a sailor’s knot
And hide it in your case
If I knew for sure that it was yours . . .
But it was oh so hard to tell
But you knew that we would meet again
If your mem’ry serves you well
This wheel’s on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode!

If your mem’ry serves you well
You’ll remember you’re the one
That called on me to call on them
To get you your favors done
And after ev’ry plan had failed
And there was nothing more to tell
You knew that we would meet again
If your mem’ry served you well
This wheel’s on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode!

Copyright © 1967 by Dwarf Music; renewed 1995 by Dwarf Music

Highway 61 Bob Dylan

Highway 61 Revisited

Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where do you want this killin’ done?”
God says, “Out on Highway 61”

Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose
Welfare Department they wouldn’t give him no clothes
He asked poor Howard where can I go
Howard said there’s only one place I know
Sam said tell me quick man I got to run
Ol’ Howard just pointed with his gun
And said that way down on Highway 61

Well Mack the Finger said to Louie the King
I got forty red, white and blue shoestrings
And a thousand telephones that don’t ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things
And Louie the King said let me think for a minute son
And he said yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61

Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren’t right
My complexion she said is much too white
He said come here and step into the light, he says hmm you’re right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61

Now the rovin’ gambler he was very bored
He was tryin’ to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61

Copyright © 1965 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1993 by Special Rider Music