Más allá del número 7 / Beyond number 7 (II)

Today we would like to introduce Marijo Alba to you all. She was one of the participants who couldn't take part in the last issue, although we hope to have her poetry again for the next one.

Here is one of her poems. Enjoy!

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Hoy os presentamos a Marijo Alba, poeta y artista en general que no pudo participar en el número anterior, aunque esperamos contar con su colaboración para el próximo número.

Aquí os dejamos uno de sus poemas, ¡que lo disfrutéis!

SIRIA

Sentada en el autobús que me

lleva a Brockley,

siento deslizarse

el espanto

por las calles de Siria.

De nuevo

Saturno está devorando a sus hijos e hijas.

Los demás planetas callan

estrellas caen asesinadas.

Huele a azufre y sangre,

esto no ayudará

a nutrir

ni a fortificar la tierra,

este año,

tampoco habrá cosechas.

¿Adónde va tanto sufrimiento?

‘A cebar las arcas

de algún rico gobierno’

Responden millones de voces

de entre las cenizas.

                                                     - Marijo Alba -

Más allá del número 7 / Beyond number 7 (I)

In the last issue, unfortunately, there were some texts that, for some reasons, could not be part of the number 7.
That's why we want to show you some of them.
Here you are, a poem by Jonay Martin.

We hope you like it.

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Por desgracia, hubo varias colaboraciones que por diversos motivos no pudieron formar parte del número 7. Como nos daba un poco de rabia, hemos decidido hacer un hueco aquí a esos colaboradores y esperamos volver a tener noticias suyas en futuros números.

Hoy os traemos un poema de Jonay Martín y a lo largo de los próximos días os presentaremos a otros dos artistas que tampoco pudieron participar en el último número.

I can feel the light rising

My world is spinning around

Oh my God! Where’s my wallet and glasses??

Yes, I’m such a clown…

Images start to come

I’d rather to keep this amnesia

To forget the low I got last night

In my senseless inertia

The floor had some kind of magnetism

And my stomach let me down

I tried to keep myself over my feet

But I just fell to the ground

An ambush of voices

Coming from the dark

“Sit here, take air” they said

While I was under attack!!

Here we go again gravity!

This is a public affair

I just can’t stay away from you

Oh dirty streets, London’s waist

Mercy came from nowhere

While I was kissing that road

Those voices were life

When I had none

Next act, Taxi’s back seat

How I got here??

Oh God! I’m pretty bad

I can even see

I faced those machines

I fought hard for what’s mine

They won anyway…

But, won’t be so lucky next time

After that, just nothing

Black out and clues

How I paid for that ride?

Oh crap! Taxis never lose

This is the sad an true story

Of little Johnny and that Bar

Finding how much alcohol can be

In those tinny glasses they have

 Jonay Martín