If I ever forget to be afraid,
please break all my windows
and leave me behind,
in joyful sadness.

There’s no time
to plan our future!
the past really keeps us busy.
Please go!

Roll my head in duct tape and
take me to the natural park of your rib.
YOU gotta invent me now.
I think it’s only fair!
Just return the bible favor and let’s get it over with.

There’s no time to change our minds –
everything’s happenin’ so fast
and we fall in love with ourselves so **** slow.
I wanna run.

It seems that no one knows what they want,
Night becomes day and day becomes a monkey.
There’s nothing here for us anymore.
We used science to invent God and
God to invent hope
and even more science to fight God and
more gods to **** people's brains
and then more science and prayers and
miracles don’t exist anymore!

They’re only wars and
people running from people.

One might think that we just
don’t know what we want.

I don’t wanna listen!
it was nice and all that
but my heart broke along the way and
three of its chambers are flooded.
no handy man can fix it now.
me and you.. IT don’ work!
it’s not an oxymoron, nor an enigma ! no!
the fact that I’m an ox, a *****, a pretentious ***** and you, an enigma..
that don’t change anything!
we are unable to begin again.
we made it once. we should be happy and look back in hunger.
we were on the first page of newspapers but,
somehow,
we ended up in
the matrimonial section – the place where
poetry ends.

I am the member of a one-man extremist army
That fights for the right to be (mis)understood.
I keep my gun tidy and all covered in a
crazy-*** knitted scarf.
I only shoot it when I’m alone in my head.
I always miss.

I fly below the human emotion radar and
Pray that someone will DVR my life
And binge watch it from the comfort of his/her dusty old couch,
Up in the attic, when nothing else is on TV and
Jimmy Fallon’s all tucked in his zebra pajamas.

I will climb the highest fountain
And whisper waterly in your transplanted ear:
“I am Vincent.. I am your yellow.. I am your ubiquitous sunflower..”

Just change the channel and the weather will do the same thing.
Bye bye bye, birdie! Bye bye bye, climate change!
I’m nothing but an echo’s echo.

It all suddenly felt right.
I could run,
and cry,
and say yes,
and everything was an animated representation of reality -
just like Family Guy.

makes it hard for me to breathe,
difficult to see and
impossible to understand this complex mechanism of inside-out
feelings.

I should’ve known by now
that one foot cannot do well without
the other,
that I am merely a one way ticket to
one of Jupiter’s moons,
that one without two
is a stranger to three
and that this will all end one day
in a big blast!

Stranded between Tom Hanks' Wilson
and Aylan’s sandprint,
I won’t be of much use to you;
just like a viral video that you share with your friends,
on a Monday morning and,
then, again, after a couple of months. Funny gas inside
some old abandoned car’s  tank.

makes it hard to be serious
about life,
difficult to die and
impossible to commit suicide.

I am the young girl running around the house,
looking for the pony,
on Christmas morning,
while the ship is slowly sinking,
in a manure flavored sea.

I am the armless tennis player that
is convinced he will defeat Roger
in less than an hour,
using just one ball, over and over again.

I am Roy Wright at the beginning of the trial,
with a big stupid smile in my pocket,
and a tinny black book in my soul.
I am the faithful survivor of unfaithfulness
and I will be the one that lands on his feet,
in Scottsboro heaven.

I am Bartolomeo V, the one with no vendetta,
having a croissant,
waiting for Nicola to shave, before we take off in one of
Rothko's paintings. May the 5th be
with the ones who actually did it.. and, you know what?
I honestly think Cronaca Sovversiva is a great title,
even though I haven't read the ******
thing and I have no sympathy,
whatsoever, for any anarchist.
Hell! It's hard for me getting my **** together in complete order. I don't want to think what would become of me
in complete anarchy.

I am the one that wakes up every day
with a stupid smile under his nose,
not remembering the scent of yesterday's failure.
The one that starts dreaming as soon as he gets up,
ignoring the fact that he might be an ignorant
*****,
with no desire to go to outer space,
but with huge hopes up his sleeve for
M. Damon and his agricultural knowledge.
I am in favor of all fancy schmancy Earth saving knowledge,
and I am aware that all that space debris in my head
will do some serious damage one day.
If they ever figure out how to get it all in.

I am the tic, that will come after the tac-toe, this time, and not the other way around!
the encore of every good concert,
the yin for the panda ****,
the slim leg for the flamingo,
the gambler,
the rambler,
the day rider.

I am the Syrian boy that just learned to swim and
all of this infinite blue soup
is nothing more than a Saturday stroll.
I will get in the back of that truck and I will breathe
the purest air that someone could ever breathe,
I will sleep the sleep of reason and monsters will not be produced.

You have my word!

I am the skin before the needle shoots up
all its ink.

I will be perky. I will be green.

You know where the ground is,
‘cause you’ve been there one too many times;
lying on your stomach, face down,
to avoid “pulling a Bonzo”,
or just standing on your side,
all curled up, in a fetal, counter-plunge position,
like in that movie.. the one that you loved
and watched over and over again,
only for the mirror scene.

I think I know what the frustrating part is for you:
you can always see the sky,
but getting there doesn’t seem to be
right up your alley.. even though you live near the airport.

And this destroys you.
That cracked up pain that climbs up
your leg every night, before bed down.
You know what this is!
However, you have no power over it.
You had a very long dilly-dally day
and now all you can do
is hope that you won’t
wake up on the floor again
and maybe, just maybe, if you plan it
well enough in your mind, you’ll
wake up on cloud 7,
with that big idea and with the means
to ******* accomplish something.

the soldier in charge with raising the flag
felt ashamed because he couldn’t get it up.

he stayed up the whole night crying,
packing all his Ezras and his Allens,
ironing his shirts and
wrapping in old newspapers the photos
of him and his grandfather.

the stench of fire crackers and
hot dogs was still strong on his clothes
and he couldn’t touch the top of his mouth
with his tongue.

the pain was edgy and the
bull’s eye couldn’t take it anymore;

he knew he flagged  life once again.

[[[poem based on some of my virtual friends' wall posts and statuses from pages that I follow. Randomised. Mixed.]]]



The year was Poptastic!
And Rolling Stone crowned Bob Dylan the greatest songwriter of all time.
It’s alright, Ma (I’m only scrolling)
I get so awkward when I eat in front of people
But I have no problem understanding why an intern would live in a tent.
Sarajevo here I come!

A series of explosions killed at least 50 people and left 700 injured.
Do you ever miss yourself?
The person you were before you had your first heartbreak or before you got betrayed by a person you trusted?
It’s amazing to finally feel right. The real blue's inside
This thought is from last year... but still relevant.

Your Life Will Be ****** into an Awful Black Hole
But you still have a beautiful night to spend with friends;
Great night! Emily we will miss you!
“The moment was all; the moment was enough.” V.W

You know? It's a terrible waste of your life, making movies –
Maybe you should reconsider time.
Want to book Pharrell? You'll need a picture of Carl Sagan. Really!
Photos on memory cards can survive more than you may think.
If you could choose what your life would be like, what would you pick?
Did you ever consider failure as an option?
Take a look inside this thought: Inge Morath, "Gypsies dancing in a camp near Catesiphon", Iraq, 1956, black and white blue eyes.
These kids were playing in the dust and mud because the schools were too far away.
So with nothing but his own time, this store manager decided to be their school.

How quantum computing works — and why it could change everything:
Things just don't grow if you don't bless them with your patience.


5 minutes of inspiration: This is how a living legend thinks about photographing the world.
As we expect more from technology, do we expect less from each other?
I just can’t be away from her, she’s the finest woman in the world

Keep on playing those mind games forever, raising the spirit of peace and love, not war,  (I want you to make love, not war, I know you've heard it before)...
Solid proof that having kids is frankly terrifying.
You should remember this:
No matter how complex, no matter how unique, your passwords can no longer protect you!


I would say all the allegations aren't true — some of them are.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEEQWPfjv1U

You wake up in the middle of the night and
You realize that the person next to
You is not
Your co-pilot anymore and that even though
You are flying in the same direction,
Your destination might not be the same.

You realize that
You are in parallel planes,
Your former “co-“ is now a grown-up pilot who wants to push all the buttons that
You wouldn’t wanna push, who decides to leave
You hanging in the sky, without
Your safety net or parachute.

The world is full of pilots,
but few good co-pilots.

this thing that I do.. or, anyway, try to do,
this continuous babble gabble, with sprinkles on top,
this day-to-day quest,
this poorly timed choreography,
this #bro, #nohomo, #gay thing I do with my brain and heart,
this endless wine powered whining habit of mine,
this desire to know,
this curiosity and unceasing need to find out,
this joy of seeing your face every day in the mirror I use for shaving once in a while,
this midnight torment,
this heat and cold feet feeling,
this skanderbeg with the ****** inside my right arm,
this everlasting need of being pushed to the ground and all of the climbing that comes afterwards,
this fight club that I invented in my own apartment,
this bad scenery where all the bad quirks are lost,
this family reunion around a blue Facebook table,
this Christmas compulsion regularly displayed,
this recital of random thoughts,
this list of contacts,
this Friday evening pathetic chorus,
this fear of rejection and hope for what will come,
this weird structure of one's feelings,
this flat choice of words and bad timing,
this spurious urgency for acknowledgement,
this "me feeling" for me,
this firm handshake with a smile and maybe a hug at the end,
this thing that I do is called, in a strange way, #love.



and I can say that there are only few moments when I have my regrets for trying to show it,
like a little girl does with her skirt, lifted above her head