Saturday 5 April 2014


THE MAN WAS CREATED SO AS TO FILL THE VOIDS LEFT BY FALLEN ANGELS

Now we find an answer to the old

question of our reason for living.

Only one purpose our flesh and souls have:

to fill the choirs in the sky of the rebel fallen angels.

And love is the only way.

Without  the original sin guilt, mankind

would have spread only until completing

the number of the fallen angels

and then would they have met its end.

We are an unforseen consequence

In God’s experiment.

Carrying the original stain, did humanity spread here and there,

into the darkness and chaos, impure, depraved.  

After we die, we will contribute in our

small way towards celestial choirs.

Our wheat will be harvested among

the chaff from generation to generation, 

to fill the vacuums of thown angels.

Only after these places are covered,

will the world end.-

Matias Castagnino
 

Friday 17 August 2012

THE LANDS THAT I WILL CONQUER

 The beauty that names you in this evening
 It is a loom of the lands that I will conquer.
 An universal love and without conditions,
 that for love knows you
 and to virtue it expands more and more
 in the space.

 Your transparent eyes
 where the soul appears;
 the taste of your lie
 if the clusters you open me;
 the meekness of the west
 until the nabbed night,
 they are scarcely the anteroom
 of the lands that I will conquer.

 All this that today it me reveals
 in the purest fervor and in thousand stumbles
 it was to see and to follow your stela
 towards the lands of an unconcern
 and of the soft breeze.
 If the universe gives signs
 of that everything close tends to crush,
 let's be useful our time together
 up to living the lands that I will conquer .-
GRAVITY ZERO

 The gravitational field of your legs
 that it attracted to my planet as a home
 and it turned it aside from the lost course
 towards a black and deep and eternal space.

 From the remote sands of the time
 your nature extreme
 it spread out on my skin.
 What to develop will be provisional
 if everything is confined
 to fusing with the Sun?
 But your useless device still goes.

 Only I write, please,
 I do not accumulate ignorance.
 I know very well that your major mother
 It will devour me shining
 two thousand times more
 up to exploding going out forever
 in a last halo of final light,
 stopping dark
 the wide plains of the space.

 When the history
 be less than powder
 and the dread an infamous imagination
 we will have accepted these plans
 of loving fatality,
 while it passes the night
 and we breathe in synchrony for moments.-