September 6, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Celso Flores



Rod Roldan-Roldan



Knight of Silence


Oh Threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

One thing at least is certain – This Life flies;

One thing is certain and the rest is Lies –

The Flower that once has blown forever dies.


Omar Khayyám (in Rubáiyát)




Bones and dust


blood and joy

but no God

fulfilling the promise



Among noise and hurry

soul got lost

and the dirty night of the damned

writes down restless

the vast solitude



Still waiting for Him

but no word

no breath

He is still unreachable

to questions



Still alone in the nest

on that summit

in the desert

waiting for the last bird

the blind one



If you ever meet the lonesome Knight

on the high Hamada

tell the gods

he is still waiting

waiting for the Man



Such a long journey

oh the lonesome Knight is so tired of wandering

so thirsty of being

so stuck in the solitude of his dialogue

that he is forgetting his land and his name




mirror of his soul

why should the Knight ask

more than his silent dialogue

Silence makes him exist




when the Knight was wise

he used to lie to his foolish heart


when he was wild

he used to dive in the fury of living

today he is old naked and free



Give him bread and water

or rice and tea

and the Knight will grow mind and heart

through the fields of Liberty

in no man’s land



When years become heavy

Death and Time start dancing around

with a dark smile

whispering hurry up

strangling illusions



Childhood sun and sand

and the casbah labyrinth

poor kid bore shoes

he used to eat dreams with dates

and drink green tea by the sea



Stay with the Knight

man from Africa

for his has lost his roots

and his words are becoming rare

far away from himself

in the fields of loneliness

love him



Oh God

what an unbearable stupidity

turns a man into a biped

In the prison of social conventions


don’t yell




Why should the Knight kiss

what the others kiss

why should the Knight embrace

what the others embrace

leave him alone with his dignity




diving in the Silence

far away from noise and words

and useless clothes


please hold the Knight




Rainy night

lonesome street

steps and shadows

the Knight walks along with sad angels

looking for the joy of demons

lustful smile greedy eyes

his body shivers



Follow the Knight

to the land of desire fury and wine

where you will change your name

and embrace the typhoon of Freedom

before dark



Don’t answer


for life is short

vast is pleasure

waiting for living



Where is this desolation coming from

why are words unable to determine actions

what could one expect from Fate’s owner

who will show the way in this marionettes world

the answer is nowhere



Since one is just a puppet

why such an anxious living

decades struggle is useless

Destiny is laughing

he is always the winner



Oh how serene the sand garden is

naked under the beech

passions in the attic

the Knight is just feeling himself

without thinking




the funeral of the gods is over

dreams are buried

nothing was left but



and a fake History



Murmur of Time

slowly dropping the past

grey foam of ancient desires

frisson passing by

under the solemn oaks



Come away Knight

your faery is wounded

listen to her moan

pale is the sun through the mist

wandering steps

amid the mournful cypress

Come away Knight




no God

no Paradise

no demiurge

no hero

Art perhaps Love

maybe laic spirituality










Rod Roldan-Roldan

R.Roldan-Roldan (or David Haize). Brazilian author. Born in Spain. Grew up in Morocco. French education. Lives in Brazil. Ten years stuck in a city-state for being stateless. Cosmopolitan. Internationalist. Militant. Libertarian. Hedonistic. “Cursed writer”. He gave up his job (manager for a corporation) in order to write and he has known hunger. 31 published books (novels, short stories, theatre, poetry, epistolary). Writes social, politics and cinema articles for a newspaper. His literature is surrealist and focuses on identity, sex, exile, metalanguage, silence, existential search for meaning and fury of living. He loves art. One philosopher: Nietzsche. One poet: Rimbaud. One novelist: Stendhal. One playwright: Euripides. One movies director: Visconti. One film: Il Gattopardo. One actress: Vanessa Redgrave. One actor: Javier Bardem. One singer: Léo Ferré. One composer: Beethoven. One painter: Hieronymus Bosch. One folklore: russian. One city: Paris. One culture: french.

His books (not all of them) can be found on www.authorcentral.amazon.com

His blog: www.davidhaize.wordpress                                 

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.