Esta es parte de mi creación artística donde uso pequeños formatos en papel para dibujar con tinta negra, lápiz y carboncillo. También
he agregado algunas poesías para realzar el intento creativo con otros objetos tridimensionales en este caso máscaras hechas en papel mâché.
This is part of my artistic creation where I use small formats of paper with black ink, pencil and charcoal. Also, I have added some poems.
Weichafe Jaime Mendoza Collio
I did not know About you,
until a bullet, swift,
clatter
cut
yours eyes looking at others eyes,
were the eyes of your child,
maybe yours,
or mines detached
to the pain
of an earth stained
in sob,
I do not why
I said you these things,
is because
the heart is and able to put up with,
the soil is dry,
the snake encircle your waist,
their wings will cover
and in cry for relief
you will stay with us,
our time and space
will met
in your transcendence
you are the mighty condor
riding our hopes.
Thepeople who produce it as notable,
so gorgeous, gallant and bellicose,
that no king has ever been governed,
"La Araucana" Ercilla and Alonso Zuñiga
from distant lands I’m witness
of the horror created for some that forgot the history,
the outraging of the Araucania
bringing the insanity on their backs,
sowing death, imprisonment,
trampling on despair,
ravage homes, delivering
the feudal lords of lies full.
The Araucanian state used
to make laws, to order and be feared,
seeing of their throne demolished,
Forgetting the mercy things
of land, yanaconas phalanges
with the stutter of weapons
silenced the clamor of a people
drowned by the dispossession.
and mortal men oppressed;
freedom to acquire certain
failing grant-suffering
From the distant many look
with imprudence how land
is covered with blood and gunpowder
that becomes lethal clouds
resting between the eyes
of the little ones that wonder
when they see the fallacies and deceit.
comes to the exercise of the sword
idle for peace and unusual.
from the palace of the Pharisees
sold my people to the highest bidder,
sending emissaries to the death
dresses with names of the worst
to poison the path of life
must give the clear answer
a simple song of solidarity.
Chile, fertile province, and outstanding
famous in the Antarctic region,
from remote nations of respected
From the dark shadows depart
the murderers of yesterday and today
executioners and commands with
frock coat drawing of the brothers,
think in the terrified
brother who decant the illusion
to receive the embrace of solidarity
that will protect the daring
gravediggers of lies.
by strong primary and powerful
people who produce is so notable,
o gorgeous, gallant and bellicose ....
y la justicia pareja para todos, carcel para todos,
muerte facíl para todos,
y lo del fusilamiento es para todo aquel
que se atreva a decir que todos tenemos
derecho a algo mejor,
degollaremos sin misericordia
al que levante el dedo en señal
de desaprobación,
y serán electrocutados los que
sean sorprendidos
escribiendo poesias sediciosas.
Only Lies.
The cries of the time until
when will sound between the mist,
when can we have a break from death?
that always as violent storm will fell down,
withoutprayers, stained with the torture
of the open flesh, offal in febrile
in abduction, rape, intolerance,
lies in the newspapers,
monkish pasquinade in which lie
for better heaven
sell the forgiveness of sins ......
lies open to the faces
lies without courage, lies
unequivocally.
They talk about reconciliation
... forget about the dead,
all are already dead,
and nothing and nobody can relive
neither the United Nations,
or the voice of those who believe
free to cast the first stone
including the last Nobel Peace Prize,
or suppressed laughter of the blessed
either the tears shed by the
the onset of the last soul in Purgatory.
reconciling.... ... Because we already won
the game, what you waiting in line?
and in this game you lost everything
even how to walk
do not get anything with regret,
nevertheless the sun will remain round
and justice will be the same, jail for all,
death easy for everyone
and the firing squad is for everyone
who dares to say that we all have
right to something better,
we slaughtered without mercy
to those that lift a finger signal
disapproval,
and we will electrocuted
those surprised writing
seditious poems.
The stars fall in the night
still desert
deposited in the empty beds,
with the cold evenings of summer
the stars continued to fall
preparing the coo of its light
for the meeting of the immortal lovers.
The butterflies are dressed in silk and light,
in the meantime
the exited snails draw their horns
understanding all of these duties
of lovers who hustles without
and no trouble
once again
the swore the eternal love
like other lovers in history,
they covered with the glow of lust
his eyes resting on his
discovered sexes
their pores open,
the breath is interspersed with the coup
out of time from the heart
who wants to be spectator
they touch it, kiss it,
for the joy of fireflies.
Will you take him ...
between the colors of the evening,
with his moans
interrupted with the light
of rain to the land
which is the kingdom of the death.
Be it... He will bring to you
terrestrial fear
of disasters or
to the syrup of the lips
it is minted from you ...
His arms where you will dreams
the return of the swallows
wet with the dew
of the sunrise.
I believe he is?
I think he will make you feel
the evening dew in the tedium
of those evenings
when the sun in the background
will not be seen,
he open his eyes every morning
showing how the time
slides his body in the vault
iridescent of my gods.
He is ... which in the dawn
will pick up your body to take you
between the noises of the streets,
and feel in your arms
the calm of wind
caressing the softness
sky blue from your skin,
your eyes, soft close
with the cadence of his steps.
Be it... With whom he will be a slight
blow of his hand awake you
to crumple up with the peace
of his eyes.
Maybe it was the night
that disguised in his shadow
leaves it in the ancient writings
the predicaments of the time,
inscribed in routine character
the verses of life
often in ambiguous form,
the eyes ajar
at night
let see the landscape
demolished by the invasive army
destroyed of dreams
of blood flowing voracious
carrying the message of the
numerical theorems
of the silent death.
Maybe it was the night
in a cry of three
centuries
awakened the monsters
sleeping in
in underground from the heart
to devastate the bodies
numb the hunger
defenestrated the passions
unleash the horrors,
dislocate the faces.
But also I have
to recognize that
was the night I kiss
your body dressed of night.
The sabers in theirs stealth of edge thirsty
have landed in the soft tissue of the
throats, threatening with the silence
of torture, the pigeons will be fall back
seduced by the death in a flight
without return, the machines from hell
cover the city in an aphonia of tears.
The tinder of infamy circle with fire
the long horizon of your people with the
metal hand of traitor phalanges
one more time the tears wet the dawn.
Our song is sure to meet
of the humble people trying to
knit network of solidarity to postpone the pain,
this litany again corrode the oxides
the graves filled with of our
dead, the grief rewrite this new old story of betrayal and shrouds.
Mercenaries citing trifling lies
dressed with the camouflage of deception
tread on with their boots the dwellers’ pavement,
I tend my hand to you in solidarity
with the message life yes, not death!
