Yes You Can

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I want to run away

Lately I’ve been thinking that
I want to get out of this stressfull town
I want to move somewhere
Where there is less noise

I know the words of wisdom
You can’t find stillness outside
You can only find it inside
If you dig deep enough

But I can’t dig deep
I’m to stressed out
I can’t find my spade
And the asphalt in my town is too hard to break

If I pack my bags
Leave my job and put myself on a plane
I know that my memories and my worry will be
My fellow passengers

Still we will be heading to
A new landscape together
We will walk among hills and breath air from the sea
With few others around

And maybe my memories and worry
Will be breathtaken by the scenery too
And maybe due time, me and them
Will end up being good friends

Because out in the wilderness
Ther’re not many of you
So you have to take care of each other
You have to rely on your neighbour

I think that, in front of a quiet landscape
We humans converts to a better size
We get a bit smaller on the outside
And we get a bit bigger on the inside

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I’m always on my way to you

I never walked on the streets in Madrid
Still I feel homesickness
Still I feel the smell and hear the noices
From the bars and the traffic

I haven’t held your hand in mine
Still I feel the rhythm from your pulse
Still my fingers are wrapped up
In yours

In the cold january wind in Stockholm
I’m walking to the grocery store
Trying to maintain my daily routines
But I’m always on my way to you

I’m sharing your sorrow
I’m sharing your love
I hope life let us meet soon
I pray and hope it will be so
VUELVO A MADRID
Agárrate de mi mano, 
sabes que no aguanto los aterrizajes. 
Desde lo alto distingo, 
entre un mar de luciérnagas, 
mi pequeño barrio. 
Amores canallas estarán cerrando, 
puntuales, los últimos bares. 
Tocamos la tierra. 
Ay, niña, te estrujé la mano. 
Lavapiés nos recibe, 
fruta de narguile, 
explosión de color. 
Una mujer reza y llora desde un locutorio. 
¿A quién se le ocurre 
vivir tan arriba 
sin un ascensor? 
Malditas maletas. 
Pienso en la mujer. 
También lloro. 
Soy afortunado. 
Yo siempre vuelvo a Madrid. 

Escucho mensajes: 
los viejos colegas de la facultad 
hicieron la fiesta de la primavera 
y yo, como siempre, 
me la perdí. 
Ciudad de mis noches, 
del viento del pueblo, 
de la resistencia, 
del “no pasarán”, 
¿qué hiciste en mi ausencia? 
Dime que te acordaste de mí. 
Abro los balcones, 
te beso, el murmullo de las lavadoras 
se mezcla con ritmos, 
darbukas, bachatas e incienso. 
Maldita ciudad, no es tu mejor momento 
y aún estás hermosa. 
He de confesarte que te eché de menos. 
Agarro la guitarra 
y canto para ti. 
Qué bueno estar en casa. 
Vuelvo a Madrid.

– Ismael Serrano

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The fool on the hill

I’m the fool on the hill
Holding hands
With a little girl beside
We’re two lost souls on a journey

Have I mislead her?
Into a landscape
Where there is nothing
To be found

She’s been so happy during the journey
She’s been looking at me with stars in her eyes
Excited to see whats behind
The next corner

So, here we are at the end of the road
There is only desert and stones
And no one too see
How do I tell her, that this is it?

How do I tell her that I failed?
That I could not fulfill her dreams
That I could not ignite life in her fairytales
That there is only darkness left

We´re in danger

I’m scared and lost
I’m dying to put my nose close to your neck
Just to borrow a part of your scent for a second
To smell the life we can’t have togehter

How does a life not allowed to be, smell?
I guess it smells like everything
Once intensly loved, wanted and longed for
And in the end lost

Everything is going to be alright, you say
But what if you’re lying? Of love.
Just like the best friend of a dying soldier
Tells him that he is going to make it

I’m so scared that we’re in severe danger
But we’re still breathing, honey
The blood in our veins is still warm
Fight, break free and rescue us

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I haven’t decided yet

I haven’t decide yet
What next step to take
It’s raining outside
And I’m stuck inside

Inside of me, with my demons
Inside of knowing what supposed
To be right, but not accepting
That it might be true

It might be true that I
Never was a good person
Maybe I just was an egoistic child
Wanting everything to be my way

Or maybe I was too damaged from the start
And therefore my vision got blurry
And I took the wrong way
In my attempt to find a home

Sometimes I feel I haven’t left my childhood
I’m still stuck in that same room
Still stuck in that bad house
It seems there is no entrance out

Am I living my life from that room?
With the window open
Sending messages with paper planes
When the nightmares are sleeping

Paper planes who falls down on the asphalt
Because I never learnt to fold them right
I haven’t decided yet
If I’m brave enough to fly

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The beginning of a book

To all my followers and wordpress friends – I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy new year. Below is a little piece from a book I’m working on.
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Part 1
I do not know if you can call me introvert. I’m a room attendant.
It’s not correct to say that my work feels meaningless.
Because I create meaning for my guests. I clean their room. I give them a new opportunity every  given day. To start over. To do it right. To do it different.
I start my workday by drinking a cup of coffee in my kitchen, feeling guilty about not wanting to go to my job. It’s not that I don’t want to work hard. It’s just that I dislike entering the hotel’s changing room. I have never liked getting undressed outside my own home. And I’m also feeling guilty for not sharing the joy with the management, when they celebrate that the hotel is fully booked over Christmas and New Year’s Day.
Do not misunderstand me, I’m happy for them, but I’m indifferent to it.
Still, in the indifference, I do my job well. I am well-liked by my colleagues and guests. My rooms are always the most tidy ones. And it’s to me my working colleagues are coming for advice or comfort. They say I’m a good listener.

My work uniform is in purple tone, and the short jacket swings into the waist. Something colleagues complain about, they say the jacket stops them from bending down and vacuuming under the beds. For me it’s the opposite. When I’m leaning down to reach under the bed, the tight jacket gives me some sort of distored comfort. Cleaning under the beds is important. Everybody knows that it is under the bed that you hide and find things. And nobody wants others to find things they’ve hidden. Nobody wants to find things that they themselves have not lost. Therefore, it is an honor for me to clean under each bed.

Do not think I’m a bitter person. Not at all.
But I miss you and I’m alone and tired. I carry you within me and you’re an adult man and you weigh thereafter.
Let me start from the beginning.

To be continued…

Merry Christmas darling

I know you don’t like Christmas darling
But I still would like to say Merry Christmas to you
It’s our second Christmas toghether, and step by step
We’re making history together

Did you imagine one year ago when we met for the first time
In the Internet space
Did you imagine we would reach this far?
I did, and I think you did too

I just put up the Christmas tree in my home
Now I’m off to the supermarket to by the chrismas food
And I’m tired
Very tired

I’m longing so much to be by yourside
Not knowing if we will ever get the chance to meet
I’m also worried if you’re alright
How can I support you from so far away?

Christmas night is coming, soon also a new year
I pray for you and I pray for my kids to always be fine
I pray that you and I will meet in real life
And finally hold our arms around each other

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