Datos personales

Mi foto
Walter Beatnik no es alguien como yo. Alguien como yo no escribe poemas. Yo a los poemas los dejo pasar, porque aprendí que era imposible atraparlos del todo. Fue mucho después de haber perdido ya tantos poemas cuando sólo aprendí que lo único que los poetas obtienen de ellos es un único beso demasiado forzado, una simple violación de ese cuerpo libre y frágil que, para más absurdo, consiste en vestirlo y mancillarlo con falsos símbolos y joyas que refieren a su sexo, a su cálida y generosa dádiva, en lugar de inocentemente penetrarlo y sin más alarde hacerlo suyo hasta la violencia del último suspiro. Por lo demás no sé a qué me dedico.

07/01/12

letrillas con arte



Little Girl (with Blue Eyes)

You're just a
little girl (with blue eyes)
Everybody looks at you
(well, it's your day)
and you're
stepping from the black car
but you'll be getting back in soon
(and on your way)

Little girl (with blue eyes)
there's a hole in your heart
and one between your legs
You've never had to wonder
which one he's going to fill
in spite of what he said
You'll never get away
hey
you'll give it up one day
come what may

Dad's not got a shot-gun
but his look's enough to murder you
(see what you've done)
and forget about the paintings
cos you'd better get the washing done
(oh something's wrong)

Little girl (with blue eyes)
there's a hole in your heart
and one between your legs
You've never had to wonder
which one he's going to fill
in spite of what he said
You'll never get away
hey
you'll give it up one day
come what may

Face down on the pavement
chalk lines round your little hands
(hit and run)
and now a
mother sits in silence
in a darkness she can't understand
(where you've gone)
Oh

Little girl (with blue eyes)
there's a hole in your heart
and one between your legs
You've never had to wonder
which one he's going to fill
in spite of what he said
You'll never get away
hey
you'll give it up one day
come what may.

Pulp