The Cave

(Translation)

The moon shines swollen of arrogance, the land is covered in withered branch and dead leaves, the sound of dark steps and those emitted by owls and crickets saturate the wind.

There's the cave from where frozen thoughts of the faceless emerge! There the tortuous prayers of the enraged omen arise, where disturbed rocks awake yelling.

That is the nameless to whom they elevate the rituals of dawn. They invoke him! They seek him out in the silent crepuscule!

They shriek! The walls rumble, the throat closes, the sepulcher of tears closes swallowing all, leaving only oblivion.

Jorge Campos

Managua, Nicaragua

by Zdzisław Beksinski

Silentium (Over the inner Stone)

Although you are the land where I lay,

the rooted tree where Ego conceals itself

Although you are the placid river I drink

an embrace by the sleeping sun

I shall dare to walk toward the border

beyond the space

There’s a peaceful place

I know

There, where Still rests 

Jorge Campos

Managua, November 2011

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (1818) by Caspar David Friedrich

A short text message

¡Love you babe! Good night! – Says the short text message on her cellphone inbox. That is enough for letting Monica feel loved and sleep soundly and peacefully while Pablo spins in bed to embrace Damian.

Jorge Campos
Managua, Nicaragua

Barbara in our Bed (Berlin 1959) by Will McBride

Shadows come back

He makes all the effort for letting a cry be, but it seems to be one of those nights when he cannot get what he desires.

You came! –Said with certainty

And the cold Shadow inclines over him with absolute silence, and puts its hands on his dry eyes with all natural delicacy, closing them slowly.

Dec. 2010

Jorge Campos
Managua, Nicaragua

Photograph (1950) by Zdislaw Beksinski

Ic Eom

For the universe I am a particle
product of a sudden explosion

For the silence I am the elixir of
a sincere word to say

For death I am a temptation
ridiculous and burlesque

For the winter I'm the cold
lethal, invisible and indivisible

For my land I am a crazy wanderer
playing with the wind
and dissipating the shadows

For me I am the voice that deceives its echo
the word that cannot find its origin
the blood that never sleeps.

The reason is lost, and here I am one.

Jorge Campos
Managua, Octubre 2007

Flower of Life by Frida Kahlo (1943)

 

A Nightmare became Dream

I toss and turn while a voice taunts me inside of my head and a turnkey trudges while the voice screams in pain.

The tenuous torch suspects and the flame became in part of darkness. All the things I’ve achieved were just adages.

The bricks began to falling down and the turnkey died… I had to pay my penance, to be enclosed in myself… there were whispers all around me, there were cockroach running in the same direction that the voice took.

There was a hole in my cell, and a Raven perched in it, then it sang and the moon yelled when the wall fell down and I could escape… and I never cared for what I saw, never again.

Jorge Campos
Managua, Nicaragua

The Raven by Manet

At the Point of Death (The Principle)

Dawn in my head

lightness and darkness in my mind…

True story of madness,

true natural wisdom.

War by Alfred Kubin (1902-03)