Get all 5 Patrissia Cuberos releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
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This Wound, Mood 3
02:08
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Unrequited Love
This wound I carry
Won’t heal.
It burns at night
And at midday, burns again
I hope for a cure
A miracle
But no!
Because my wound
It’s waiting
With no hope
Patrissia Cuberos
March 99
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My Desires Mood 22
01:56
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My Desires
My desires are golden butterflies that I trap
in the cobwebs of my wisdom.
My desires
blossom and ripe,
swell and explode.
The seasons of my heart,
raspberry crests on the tips of my breasts
My desires,
sailors sailing to a magical cave,
in the depths of the rippling of the waves of my legs.
The singing of the sirens pulls and calls
to drop in and drive down
to deep and depth explore.
My desires
Wings that tickle with soft whispering tongues
My velvet-silk skin
Coda:
Butterflies have a brief life
Raspberries rot
Sailors drown
Skin,
grows old.
P. E. Cuberos
A moody woman
1999-2016
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Untampered Dream
I wish I had a dream that I could dream
“No thanks” I said and I caressed your cheek
You didn’t know
Neither did she.
My softest touch
Your softest cheek
I wish I had a dream that I could dream
Unspoiled by our knowing
A dream that left alone
All what cannot be mine.
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The Birth of the Bra
"Prisoners for Life?
But why? What have they done?"
"They've broken certain rules,
Some conventions,
The law!"
But how? I asked indignant.
"Well," said the pompous Judge.
"In the war of the sexes,
They are too much of a clear provocation.
They are tempting and more!"
"You mean, because of their beauty?"
"And the opposite too!
Too big; too small, too flacid...
The list of charges is long!
The veredict is clear.
To prison with them both!"
"
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Divorce, Mood 45
03:13
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Divorce
Now I am who I am
Or who I believe to be
Free to say or to feel
Or to dare to disagree
Now I am who I am
Or at least who I can be
Left behind the power game
Who won the match yesterday?
Now I say what I think
And sometimes,
What I don’t think
With the twist of a word
Flies the world of make believe
Now I’m free to believe
Or to think, or to dream
Now I’m free to say no
To be bad, to be weak
To be free, to be me.
P. E. Cuberos
www.pecuberos.com
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Foreign Reality Mood 74
02:41
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Mood 74
Foreign Reality
How to howl with a song
That doesn’t want to be written
How to growl about life
And make of it a song
Lost loves and friendships,
Farness, remoteness,
Lost identity,
Silence,
The daily deprivation of touch,
of tenderness
And you want me to sing
About beauty and spirit
About nature and God
About peace and love
Peace and love brother
The last hippies are dead
Collapsed behind computers
And credit cards
A heart with central heating
Can’t give much
The little fire inside you
Is just enough for you
Hang on, is this reality?
Let’s call it daility,
Senility, mediocrity
Hypocrisy, detachment, commitment.
Not much difference
Too many words.
Too little love.
P. E. Cuberos
A Moody Woman
1999-2016
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Spring Don’t come again
Spring
Don’t come again
To bring entangled in the stars
Of the warm blue sky
The memory of my youth
Just yesterday
Spring
Don’t bring with you
The perfume of the soil
The laughing bee
That kissed me on the nose
On that first day
When I forgot my fear
Spring
Stay away
Don’t remind me of the touch
Don’t remind me of the sweat
Spring
Don’t come again
Unless…you bring another love with you.
Patricia Cuberos
March 99
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Patrissia Cuberos Oxford, UK
Singing, whether Tango, Opera, World Music, Romantic revolutionary Latin songs, or Baroque Music, is an expression of my passion; a catarsis for the little and big dramas and tragedies of my life, real or imaginary. It makes me dance, connect with joy, tenderness or those depths of anger and dispair, and spiritual heights, extremes of feeling that make our life interesting and worth living. ... more
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