Sobre la naturaleza del Cristo

DE CHRISTI

NATVRĀ

Cum Iesus Nazarenus redeat Iudæā Romanā ad orbem novum, ut pugnet adversus tyranos, qui habent auctocritatem vitiossam penes legium iustisque institutiones, ei cum sagitis et gladiis pugnabunt adversus Christum Secundum, iustum, ut conservent mundo et hominibus penes regnum æternæ servitudinus. Is, Iesus Nazarenus, qui pugnat in nomine libertatis omnium hominum, in crucibus iniuriarum, Ecclesiā Catholicā, quā sibi nominem dedit Christianam, morietur. Qui sibi nominant "Christiani" credere dicent in iustitiā, virtutibus, charitate ac humanitate sed quo de hoc in suā vitā faciunt?

Christus pauperem mortuus est, adversus Templi Iudæorum mercateres pugnavit sed etiam in christianorum templis habent aurum et argentum, de quibus fide credent in vitā post mortem gloriā Christi; sunt hæc verba Christi?

Quapropter nolunt vivere quomodo creatorem suæ Ecclesiæ? Volent iuxta domum auream Papæ crucifigere Christum?

- -

Cuando regrese Jesús Nazareno desde la Judea Romana al mundo nuevo, para luchar contra los tiranos, los cuales tienen la autoridad viciosa sobre las instituciones de las leyes y la justicia, ellos con flechas y espadas lucharan al segundo Cristo, el justo, para que mantengan al mundo y a los hombres bajo un reinado de esclavitud eterna. Él, Jesucristo, quien lucha en nombre de la libertad de todos los hombres, en cruces de injurias, por a Iglesia Católica, la cual se dio el nombre de Cristiana, morirá. Quienes se llaman a sí mismos "Cristianos" dicen creer en la justicia, las virtudes, la caridad y la humanidad pero qué de esto hacen en su vida?

Cristo murió pobre, luchó contra los mercaderes en el Templo de los Judíos mientras en los templos cristianos tienen oro y plata, de quienes con fe creen en la vida después de la muerte por la gloria de Cristo; ¿son éstas las palabras de Cristo?
¿Por qué no quieren vivir como el creador de su Iglesia? ¿Querrán crucificar a Cristo junto a la dorada casa del Papa?

De amicitiis Paridis

DE AMICITIIS PARIDIS

Infame hombre, raptor de Micenas,
       de amistades, captor y zozobra, sos;
       dones no seso, de Atenea obtenidos
       mas de vos, e los vuestros, sean las penas.

Aquel mozuelo, horror que sin cadenas
       furor en fulgor, quien irrumpe entre vos
       con peste e calumnia a los suyos, Troianos;
       desdicha pues a guerras por doncellas.

Cual si a la de Esparta, vos a la de Aquiles
       mas tuyo equino a Patroclo no ensarta;
       a estos que ni el Helesponto no sacia.

No queda hembra a cual él no se reparta
       o el otro, ductil moza entre virles;
       e no hay cama que les sacie en la Grecia

De itineribus Fortunæ

DE ITINERIBVS

FORTVNÆ

Ubi corpus amoris antiquarum cecidit, decidia ac pœna vicerunt fidei habiendi vitam iuxta amorem æternam pueri, ephœbi pulchrior quam Apollo, filius Iovis Latonæque, sed numquam cognoscam itineres Fortunæ, qua habet custodiam penes vitas hominum, sic iter meæ vitæ, sic transeunt dolor et pœnitentia cordis.

Claudebantur Fortunā portas gloriæ Apollineæ ubi obtinui sententia ad moriendum animā non corpore, quapropter vivo in damnatione memoriæ? Ubi deos vituperavi ego? Quapropter suferram solitudino intra carcer vitionis et superbiæ sed solus natus fui et solus moriar.

Celeritate vita cadet ad Portas Inferorum, ubi mortui, qui ceciderunt in pugnā, sunt. Ante triste fato sine fide amandi et vivendi resigno, non relinquam fatum meum  de custodiā divinā Fortunæ

Mare Lacrimarum Æternum

Mare Lacrimarum Æternum

Sic transit pœna vitæ,
        sic hoc mare æternum,
        orb lacrimarum
        in custdodiā Neptuni
        sine morte, hoc regnum.
     In quo ex Inferis
        ad altum Olympum,
        ubi animam obliviscitur,
        pater bestiarum regebatur

Extra urbes, iuxta ventum
        ac ad portas cordium;
        sine amore, verbis;
        solum de Plutone,
        sed non de Neptuno,
        caritatem habebo.
     Nunquam ante nobis
        oportunitates redibunt
        quia vita nostra
        in tutela Fortunæ
        
Ante aquā ultra cœlum
        volat fides
        sed sibi dicam
        noli amare,
        noli redire.
     Victorem non habebo
        lacrimas e mortibus
        relinquo.

A Bullet For My Valentine story II

II.- ROAD TO NOWHERE

Where are you going now? Your mind's so numb and clustered, the road's empty despite the tenths of souls around you, and whether you realize in you conscious remains the picture of the one allegedly only, supposed to have been the ultimate though with words was ultimated by your lips, the same ones used to be blazing and burner, those that burned to ashes blue feelings and hopes. Who the fuck are you? You don't even know it indeed, or what other reason for an escape? What other explanation can you turn in to the aethers? No, can't; ain't that the reason you rode your bike outta that old moisty county in the middle of nothing?

By paying the place to the old woman with 3 cats and a dyslexia seemed like you already did what was expected, the 15 bocks might've paid a noon, a sentence rather than a pleassurable catharsis - the smell of the artifitial carrot-coloured hair of that elder remains with you, as well as the sheets not cleaned in 15-days with dropplets of who knows what and the dust buring the tears of the foolish who accompained you to seal her own fate into oblivion. Fool.

You can't even get rid of dust and waste gotten from the entrance, it remains in you black leathered boot right boot, a sratch in your no-sleeve black shirt as evidence of what happened before, the nails left a mark for you to remember the sins now you pay. Hide, go ahead and hide beneath sunglasses and a helmet, within loud whispers of people running about. Some words come out as you drive as if distance could ever break the seal for leaving has always been a joker in your games of power, what do you say? Say it louder, c'on you dumbass, afraid of rejection? The same rejection used by you solely as an hour and a half entertainment, so funny how the lucky numbers played against you and funny how the table turns. Keep going, you're going nowhere since you're nothing and left nothing but pain and destrction in that room 409.

Осколки

Я рядом с берегами остался без надежд и без рая, без огня и без тебя, оставишь лишь только боль и печальность уйдёшь твердя "я не рождён чтоб остановить рядом", ты это сказал после нежных слов любви (?) а тогда находятся все дни и ночи сообщениями по интернету? За то всё было?

Мы лишь друзья, конечно, если ты всегда это узнал почему отдал меня крыльей? Чтоб им разрушать тишией и огнём тьмы? Каждая ночь и ночь за ночью, каждый день и день за днём, о тебе думал, придумывал и честно мечтал но смотрю назад, в дорогу шагами моих ильюций с тобой; это знаешь и трудно понимать и понять ты ко мне обернёшься нет!

Нет чувств внутри, нет улыбк в губах моих; просто слёзы остались ним. ВЕРНИ МНЕ ПРОШЛОЕ СЧАСТЬЕ!

A Bullet For My Valentine story I

A short story inspired in the songs' titles of Bullet For My Valentine not by default according fully to the lyrics...enjoy!

INTRO

You are by the shores, between the solitude of a street with nothing at all and the aeternity of the tides and waves leading to something unknown, something allmighty; right there you stand and contemplate up the mythical aethers at twillight, you wonder, with dry and silent tears, could you ever turn back from where you've just came and undo the sins. You blame yourself...indeed you're guilty for the cold-blooded horrific crime, not to flesh but to soul.

Where will you go? When will you cease the tender deceit and ill pleassure? The mindache burns your insides - the guts beneath your flesh burn and rash, cut and choke; the acid takes the stream and you feel how it devores every drop of blood, every inch of flesh, every sip of soul; the hghway of veins is drawn in your mind by pain though nothing at all ever happened, it's all about what you did, what you said, what you will never ever shut up, you unleashed a daemon and it coocks your guts wrapped by the escence of the yield you oughta offer...don't want it ah?, way to late, you crushed innocent hopes, your own self can't take it, pay!

Yet the clouds of storm haven't move at all, the pest you are is just something you now know...so you turn back, to your machine, with a company exchanged by moans and tears, into a road to nowhere.