Leaden sky blanket of soaked thoughts
Adding wars back,
Giving the pale impression of illness,
Enthusiastic thunders,
Changing weather,
Swirl of birds
Darkness reflection of a world beyond
Imagination.
Changing weather,
Prosaic surfing, swivel,
Swirl of conspiracy
Theories
Conspicuously visible,
Relented turf
In a bout of self-pity.
Awake from this tragedy
Of disillusion
Finding the way to a clean resolution.
Enjoyment of theories
Opening,
Look for heaven.
Where is my perfect heaven?!

Lueurs ou sombres
Un verre casser,
J’en vaux et pas en drôle,
Partir du lit noir celui qui
S’adresse à s’envahir et être un délire
Fil de violon travaille à l’aise:
Donnez-moi un coup de la lune pour m’en écraser et m’en crever,
J’en ai marre marcher parfait comme la porcelaine

Si muove il cielo, tacito e lontano:
la terra dorme, e non la vuol destare;
dormono l'acque, i monti, le brughiere.
Ma no, ché sente sospirare il mare,
gemere sente le capanne nere:
v'è dentro un ***** che non può dormire:
piange; e le stelle passano pian piano.

A place void of shape.
Exists within my mind's eye.
Past words; only faith.

I was born to agitate, it is the
purpose of a poet, (not to write
about roses or lost love), no, we
are the presenters of a lateral
vision, of the diffused ones you
are not seeing for yourself, we
think differently, we clarify, no,
I'm not here for your joy, but pain,
because if you are happy, then you
have been sufficiently dumbed down
by the illusionists your shepherds, Baa.