Datos personales

Mi foto
Mi mas oculto deseo fue siempre ser escritor y aprender varios idiomas. He llegado a defenderme bien en Ingles y chapurrear algo de Frances. El cine y la fotografia me fascinan. La música, de todo tipo, ha sido siempre mi relax. La amistad la valora mas que a nada en la vida.

sábado, 7 de septiembre de 2013

POET AND SINGER J.B. HUMET





One of the great Spanish poets and singers, born in Catalonia, I was impressed by his lyrics and the way they sing.

He left us three years ago, perhaps forgotten by many people who did not appreciate at the time poetry, sorrow, vitality, love, that distill his poems made lyrics for your songs.

CLARA / total sadness for his heman dead as a result of drug use, heroin, in those days of "freedom" much misunderstood.

The heronina, and AIDS, left tens of thousands of young men killed in the street, in the toilets of some bars, at home, in hospitals and then consumed by AIDS and Hepatitis C.


I greatly enjoyed at the time, 80's, and I still like today thirty years later.


Enjoy their music, their videos and their poetry.
I like it a lot, sure.

Word of gatufo.


CLARA

Joan Baptista Humet

WONDERFUL, BRAVO FOR YOU JB HUMET ... gatufo)
Clara, Clara different, stranger among his people, look away.Clara, drifting, no luck in choosing the exit door.  
Clara, abandoned in the arms of another solitude. 
Hoping to make friends through the snow to coat other lucidity, discovering worlds where it never rains, escaping again and again. 
Bailing penalties to navigate ... black stars saw through his veins and no one wanted to ask. 
Clara was caught, left work, came down. 
Clara languished lost on a path of anxieties and ragweed. 
Clara said nothing and one day he disappeared. 
Walking sidewalks say they saw adjusting the passage to the other, trying to do anything for money for biting fire again. 
That morning Clara sank, the sea had fear in their eyes, clothes soaked and ground for a pillow, and slowly dawned.

 Song for depression
Joan Baptista Humet
You do not know what happens, what moon changed, which was introduced at home and caught you.


One turns off suddenly, without knowing why, ill nonexistent going oppressing.


The afternoon goes by so slowly, and there is so much space in the corner, you want to run at a stretch, run to the door, and there is no solution.


It's more than grief, loneliness is, dragging the custom where to go.


That silence impertinent that insists on talking, and there is love and there is absent that can calm.


That life is meaningless, or that love which ran aground. Or just that you have returned to find the man who broke and could not be.


One clings to anything not burst, and eventually find the more graceful.


Looking closer loves the room, abandoning himself to his hands and the imagination.


Loneliness is so scary and so many fears ease, but not yield, to no avail, will go as it came, it goes without warning.



(that´s really good my dear J.Baptista)

We must live

 
Joan Baptista Humet 

We will have to give up and throw us to the road that there nortes here. 
The American dream is gone hands and no longer has anything to offer, just wait and see if it gives the big snowball rising everywhere. 
We must live, my friend first of all have to live, and is already getting cold, you have to circumvent that future wall begins to take you. 
We will have to compose again the well and the barn and learn to walk again.  
Ask our ally sun, faded paint oven and breathe again.
Sentinels take the park and the school, smiles swings and fly. 
Feel free enough and in the cold north wind, while the bread is browning. 
We must live, my friend first of all have to live, and is already getting cold, you have to circumvent that future wall begins to take you. 
We will have to demolish barriers, create new ways and raise another truth. 
Dust off old beliefs essentially talking about simplicity. 
Giving our children the creed and the spell of the morning and the embers in the home. 
And if we still have some time, put the face to the wind and venture to dream. 
We must live, my friend first of all have to live, and is already getting cold, you have to circumvent that future wall begins to take you.



I'm just a human being
Joan Baptista Humet
Often I feel so tired, as if everywhere will point to me.
In the subway pushes me, almost lost his arm, I pushed into the job with the same frenzy.
I go into a store, look like I'm being watched, yet I have asked a nozzle and bring me some pans.
No, no, man, I'm just a human being, live in peace, as I earn and only aspire to citizenship.
I'm just a human being, not so tight that you hurt me, do not lean on me, take my hand.
I ask a girl fire and neither has learned, and a ruthless driver I've signed a promissory note.
I show up at a party, go commitment, and a soldier on leave have not left a couch.
I decide to go to the dentist, I strained a lady gave him a questioning look and give me the magazine.
No, no, man, I'm just a human being, live in peace, as I earn and only aspire to citizenship.
I'm just a human being not so tight that you hurt me, do not lean on me, take my hand.

And you hiding

Joan Baptista Humet
I love you with my love of amateur, I love you with the urgency of the soldier.
I love you because I'm your gardener, I love you because there is time and flower, and hope. 
I love you because you hide your love, I love you because I play explorers.
It's all I know, and you hiding, I consuming me, and time is passing. 
I love you without using stratagems, I love you because you break my schemes. 
I want your figure dancer I never know if you fly or walk. 
I love not knowing what I play, what perdÃí for you and what you owe. 
It's all I know, and you hiding, I consuming me, and time is passing. 
I love you for the laughter you shed, feels good to the gray of the morning. 
I love you because you have decided Asai your poppy flower and my senses. 
I love you because it is good to open the hands, the world is always so far away ... 
It's all I know, and you hiding, I consuming me, and time is passing.

For me, gatufo, the best I've heard in years.
Thanks, Joan Baptista Humet, always be in my heart, in my memories, and my sorrows.
the gatufo

No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario