After publishing 5 collections of poetry in Spanish with the literary house, Omicron in Catalunya, Moreno moved to UK in 2010 to initiate his jaunt of poetical creation in the English language. Since then, published "The Hollow Tortoise," with Orion Contemporary and "Nights in Mesogeois" with Annexe Mag and "The Moon and the Sparrow," (Omicron Press). in 2018 he is finishing two collections simultaneously, "Camp Bastion" and "The Passer by" which will be published before January 2019. His poetry is a fusion between his Anglo-Saxon and Mediterranean poetic realities. Music and expression in Spanish metre and English words. Critically acclaimed by the underground Barcelona and London poetry scenes, he is known as a bard and a troubadour with endless creativity and passion. Check out the poems in our READ ME page. 

Your mask spins in the drum
like a coin in a washing machine.
Do you wonder who you are,
angel in a vacuum?
Is this why you mock us?
We, who were granted a stage,
to accommodate mirrors and lines,
we, whose floors are sentient.
Why do you scorn us angel
for sins you were done for?
For seeking drama over peace,
for trading greed and excess,
for the laurel wreath compulsion,
for incinerating totem poles,
for a phobia of fun fairs,
for bottling up poisoned bats,
for cursing the cosmic womb,
for disseminating toxic thoughts
on impressionable fools,
for arresting life-flowers,
for witnessing the cataclysm
in underpants and slippers.
Is it too late for us now?
Torn angel in a vacuum,
do you witness the signs
of retaliating space and time?

Angel in a vacuum

Angel of desire 

I open the doors of your body,

you do not want fire like I do,

my eyes cut through your skin,

I am here to let storms in;

Beast, angel of desire,
a stroll in vest and shorts,

across the veins of longing,

liturgy of the lone wolf.

Your lips and I are one.

You turn me like seared fish,

your cutlet of flesh is raw,

your breasts, lethargy of leaves,

I sail to your reprise,
the parchment of your belly

marked by sticks and flint.

tonight no sanity prevails,

tonight discomfort reigns,

the taste, the smell, the singing.

I open the doors of your body;

you are sick of the keys,

our premise is plenitude,

it will cost us our futures.

Angel of Longing

I thought my life would unfurl
like a diaspora of birds
from the coast of Gibraltar.
I thought the spear of love
would thrust me once,
in and out, from side to side.
I thought you’d follow me,
passed the Atlas of regret,
to the waterfall of time.
I thought my purse would open
like the drape of a peacock,
hatching envy, in the mob.
I thought I’d know Greece
like the palm of my hand,
and Hydra would sing for me.
I thought I’d see New York
with the eyes of an eagle,
I thought it awaited me,
I thought you were there:
Angel of longing, reverend,
boatsman of fate and illusions
I am slave to your feathers,
even now, no! More now
that I know you’re a fraud.


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© 2015 Design and illustrations by Laura Rouzet