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Dante Rocío Nov 2020
I reflect with a projection,
when hearing
melodies of rhythm or
lower basses like guttural
voice chords, especially
in the dark or being on a waiting room
of a car ride,
whenever I want it or not
an endless dance or some
image that twirls into
even though
there’s no dress to whizz,
feet strong like Carmen Amaya’s
had no mercy for Iberian taverns’
dance floors of flamenco
watching that spectacle
from discarded collage views
of that accounting
and how no
voice is needed to direct
the melody a vector,
only let it be sung-thrung
through the heat rising
and orchestra listened to
completely, sharp motions in
the eyes of the crowd
or those who had ever considered
pondering on me like a philosophy...

Maybe such styles and asphyxiations
of rapid ragged jerkings of too sharp
notes in the air cutting
the atmosphere like a blunt knife
have got to me a long time ago,
stay ever more as visions to moves
audacious, and have been
chosen beforehand my vessel
without its decision to be turned
into something greater
in the collaboration with my own other dishes
to fit Passion.

Then - then - I always imagine - then
in all that how
any certain entity
would be looking at that,
taking it in from the outside
and what that painting of me
will be made as
in their sculpted no flesh

Thank you
Ladies, Gentlemen, Whoever Further
for attending
Prima, Prova, espanso aggiunto dalla danza e verso il fiato soffocato ma del fiato.
The daze of that accounting and making, above, within, towards, has been written and reminisced so real from every reoccurring time of itself my body authentically lost breath and freedom of fatigue's influence by then from that vision. Beforehand, afterhand.
Have you ever come to dance there where your body doesn't exist yet only what's beyond it eventually here on Earth or somewhere else? The feet knives rather than flesh and deprived of idea of physical ******* or not
Dante Rocío Jul 2020
Bury all my entrails.

Y otros deshielos,
Sin ningún cubrimiento
Literal o no,
Sin tumba de piedra
Ni flores ya matados
Para mi indulgencia.

En un bosque.

Tenero e silenzioso,
Ma della grandezza
Dell’Allah creato,

Al lado de un árbol
Que me elegirá
Por debajo de la tierra.

No coffin,
Nor money.

Planter pépins
Et autres
Futures vies
Dans ma tombe pour que
Mon corps puisse alimenter
Ces pousses du sol.

Pour que les racines
Me donnent bienvenue
Chez ma Maison enfin
Et qu’elles

Spread into the world
All the tears & blades
Of my guilts & glories,
Publish one way or another
My mission/
Work to them
With due dedication

Don’t recall my intelligence
Or talent,
Rather all beauties I was
& gave life to,
My Passion in my
Chosen things,
My love,
Striving for beating the measlyness
Of this world out of
Or in me,
My wisdom.

How I placed my eyes,
Poems and efforts upon you
And on this state of things’ world,
How Language, Literature,
Words, Dreams,
Tears and Art celebrated my
Days alongside me as true
People indeed.

How I fought shame and death,
Longed to make you feel
My gaze’s intensity on
(Or not) you,
How I kept facing lies
Of useless withering
Despite ingenuity of mine.

I shall finally embrace
Eywa/Allah/God/The Moon
And see if I was worth it all
In the end.
I will probably finally meet
My Lover dearest
To see if they were there after all
And kiss them with the greatest
Fervor I can muster.
I will become all those things
Lingering in the air
And coming to your gut
When you sense
And as much suddenly
Can’t explain.

No more will I have to eat,
Be clothed (in muzzle)
Or wear shoes.
No more will anyone make me
Care about how my vessel
Looks like.

Join my departure,
All you
To whom I’ve ever mattered
More than casual,
Join my freedom.
Live, strive,
Breath at last,
Think, love, wonder/wander,
Feel, read, touch,
And literally kiss the
Trees, sky
And all sacralities you are in/on.

And if I hadn’t completed
My mission yet,
I’ll do what I can
To be back
And linger

Thank you.
The rest shall come in full-packed richness at this life’s true end.
A long yet just an entry to what I wish to leave as an obituary. Just a beginning and certainly with an end further in the distance than it could be.
Of funeral thoughts N*3
Nora Jan 2020
Amore mio,
Ma solo se sapessi
Quanto ti darei così che
Potremmo insieme di nuovo --
Ma non devo essere triste
Perché mi ha regalato qualcosa
Che non mai dimenticherò
Nora Jan 2020
Le nuvole mi abbracciano,
E potrei morire nel uno momento così
Dove la sola cosa che possa trovare
è la bella tocca di tranquillità
Nora Jan 2020
Voglio essere una con il mare
Trovare tranquillità nel sfumature di blu
Mio cuore piange per la sua libertà
Ma ancora rimasta nel il stesso posto
Pieno di voglia, che sono incapace di
Mostrare, anche se affogassi nelle onde
I'm starved screams the blank page on the table.  I need food....maybe some italiano....aspeta, aspeta.

Aspeta... perché.  Fine then..anything...even two syllable hillbilly road ****.... anything...just unsheath that pen and feed me.
Tanisha Jackland May 2018
Io ti trovo / come se tu fossi dovunque /
in ognuno io ti vedo / io sono il seme /
tu sei il vento.

I keep finding you
as if you are everywhere
in everyone I see you
I am the seed
You are the wind
This wonderful italian guy translated this piece for me. He said it moved him so.  Dear to my heart, now.
Raymond Turco Feb 2018
Ragazzo che dorme
testa sul petto
Da mille sogni
ed aspirazioni:
un cervello affollato,
In cui i pensieri
lo perseguitano
come i cani da caccia.
Di notte.
Camminare senza i tuoi passi,
respirare senza il tuo respiro:
non è diverso
dalla tua assenza.

To walk without your footsteps,
To breathe without your breath:
is not different
from your absence.
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