Poesie

Yesterday I’ve made a mistake,

but the worst is not to have mentioned it yet,

the worst is being lost

Only the witches come to the Burcht to look at the moon.
Only the pure in heart don’t burn in doing so.
The moon is there, palpable
while it draws the boundaries of the cathedral
each one in the Burcht if he entered now would be lighter
no one in the Burcht if he entered now would come out alive.
While the moon stands alone
there is not even a star

Ne’er speak a word to me again

For I am too fragile and ill

Not to dwell on it for days

Twist its meaning as I please

letting reason drift away

loosing sense of what is real

Seeing meanings where they ain’t

Feeding constantly my brain with

self-deception to numb pain

Or say a word to break this chain

Suck the spell out of my veins

Shackle me to make me sane

Disenchant this sickened mind

Now watch me die in vain
Watch me die in vain
On the cross
I’ll swear it will be gross

I’ll die for your jeans
For your shirts
For the skirts
Ungreatful love
Ungreatful sex
Made in hate
With someone else

I’ll die in vain
For fastfoods
For famine
For the Luxury
For them hate
A lack of empathy
Where I need it
No grace
No temples
Only actions in vain

As the flower drops
Something else rises
From the dead body
For the glory of life

Be like the unchained one
That came by this land
With polly and dandelions
Indeed he has known pain
And so he’s as mighty as a god

[the sun is the only true god]

Be that soul
Beyond far memories
Which are now tales
Forgotten tales
Whisperers in a ruined voice

As the gardener keeper
Casts his spell
Onto those sleepy leaves
Fallen into that gray pond

Sirocco’s wind:
air change,
I fly away.
Whirlwind of life
still in the shell
of a stubborn turtle.
Words,
mad literature
and music stops when heart stops.
Good news
in the overpass
between the landslide and the renovation.
Embryonic restoration of a castle of cards and an iron core.
Play with fire,
love like Catullus
and be a little smarter than Icarus.

Swim, swim, swim
up to over there
where there is no one,
to be alone
with the sea.
Wind on the skin,
goose bumps trigger:
imagining the caresses,
remembering the writings on the sand now erased,
that follow their own footsteps
repeatedly,
until the wave can no longer find them.

Subscribe yourself to suffering
Let’s climb houses’ roofs
to feel high.
We do petition to receive free hugs.
We feel chased,
then replaced,
therefore betrayed.
Hold up! We understood each other.
Struggling with our limits
we are the survivors:
after being warned,
we are healed.
But we are always hardened spirits, satellites, meteorites,
who taste forbidden fruits:
Infinite.

What do you say?
I feel that you shine
But what are you saying? Worse than a brain wringer, you comb my hair,
You donate me some pastel. Corals,
horses.
I find inspiration
and I feel like a champion
and not an imitator:
with Passion
I find my position:
Ciak: action!

I would like to write on your back
The reality seen by my way
and then compare it with yours,
to remind you to always be yourself
but with a little more of me on;
to remind you that, yes, it’s easy to escape,
but not when a person is tied right on your body,
feeling the pen strokes that make you shiver, reminding you to believe
in the life that you desire.