love staggers on crooked paths
w blind eyes and numb hands
As everything against him it seems
Is it any wonder that cry is like rain and pain

They talk money, through the early morn
and the dowsy breeze outside
and the rolling sun in my hand they say
is none of our business

Cheaper cornflakes I ve dreamt once
And the sightless pictures all agreed
from afar
Drowsy evening I ve prayed too
Oh glory of the heroes, Stars of the past
Walking down LA avenue with sunglasses


We ve waited for a storm that didn t come
and the fruits on the tree, and the song of the bee
have decayed and corrupt
Rotten air pinching at

The past has got broken feet
it walks only cause you drag it with you

the future lies bare on the blanket
Naked as a newborn baby.
He's got your eyes, girl, yes.
But it's your choice to dress.


Or ****

Night was coming  and the wind was sweet as a woman’s breath.
Earlier in the evening, he had fallen -subtle word, for the roar that dwells inside of it ; quiet word, for the tempest it harvests-, he had fallen in love.
Earlier in the afternoon, the summer sun was beating upon moulting trees and broken crops, humming his haunting hymn in the fleshes. The fire, yet, was not lit. And desire was stirred, shaken like water kept in a volcano.

A heart. A heart. A heart.
Beat.

Earlier in life, the road had seemed long, like a doubt unspoken ; tedious as an argument with a woman ; empty as a drunkless hour.
Earlier in life, he was wrong.
Earlier in life, there was no life.
Earlier in life, there used to be some ‘shimmering’dreams.
In those earlier dreams, the future laid bare, The future used to say: Tomorrow, shall be yesterday’
I couldn’t believe it.
So I tied my ears to my shoes, in an attempt, fruitless attempt –for you know Man- to cover up for my songs and joy.
Now, I’ve burnt down my guitar.
But my fingers are still bleeding
As I type, as I write
As I remember.

‘Give me you fruitless blood, before midnights cross our eyes !’
‘Shed on me, white queen, your lost echoes, of lost paradises !’

But the craving man is a liar
Lea, she told him you know,
‘All the drifters lie finally in jail
The ones with clouds on their eyes
Are those who want what they’ll fail’
Could have Bob Dylan been left-handed
Or shaved his eyebrows
Ezra Pound’s style.

A lie is a joke, a joke is a lie.
Every joker will tell you
Every liar will, if you ask him
Politely.

‘Won’t you come see me, white queen !’
‘Won’t you come ease me, white queen !’
‘Come, take my pain away !’

Dead men cross no islands,
Or betray no shine
Of golden tears and deserted columns
Dead men are better off
Than living like the folks of here

For the road is cold
As disdain
And disdain again
In the shameless eyes
Of beautiful women.

But let us not escape from our memories and from their haunting chill ; Our hearts are full now, and our voices warm of whispering goodbyes, so let us empty it, in an appalling flow, in fear that soon, awaking, we  discover it hollow.
It shall be heard. It shall be heard. It shall be heard.
And I put an ‘e’ to be polite.

There are a few things, a decent writer must tell, before engaging with your minds, the fight, between you and he, where the winner decides which one is to repaint with his colours, the useless circonvolutions of your brain.
When midnight crosses our eyes, with lavish manners and crimson tricks, with deceitful glimpses, in the anter of deserting intellect, and senses, we take our guitar to sing.

A guitar is a sound,
(In the night)
No wooden piece, no iron strings

A guitar is a voice
And its flight
No decadent tree,
No artistic pride.

A guitar is a wife
A guitar is a life
We have so many.

‘In the hour of my deepest need… ‘
‘I shall measure out the ingratitude of men with matchsticks’
‘And toilet papers… rolling, rolling, rolling… under the door’

Morning with Goya

Crimson flames running through the pages
‘Frozen words coming from the depths of lost ages’
Melting darkness slipping under my door
‘There’s still a smell of hatred but unlike before,(unlike before),’
Drops of light dripping from the window
‘Wooden birds swimming round and low’
Gusts of wine swirling in my head
‘Flittering memory of a dead.’
Glasses of colour rising softly in the air
‘Flying pigmees all smily and bare.’
The song of a distant ocean beating in rhyme with the heart of my beloved one
‘The laughter of a dwarf riding the sun’
And the thunder of the road stroke again
I saw great green lightnings of blood and hair
‘The flies in the suitcase of a monkey drawing brains’
‘I once fell in love with a bear’
Happy thoughts scrowling on the kitchen floor
‘The silence of pain ****** someone somewhere near the door’
The last ashes of a prayer vanished suddenly
‘Golden tears washing out slumbers eventually’
The rest of a forgotten dream is disappearing in the world-sink
‘Chains of past sensually dancing, without a blink’
Flittering memory of a dead
Fleeting smoke of a foreign freedom
‘Black horses painting (repeatedly) the top of my head’
‘Switching letters and pencils crossing the day “Lonesome”’

Only way to have your hand waving free
Is holding a gun, (‘just like me’.)

My god just happened to me yesterday

And it shone blood, dark red blood.

The papers are red, the peepers are bled.

Shall we ever forgive us for being born? Shall we resurge with new hands for new signs?

Or will our fate slide towards inevitable mud? The question is lit, in every human nerve, but in mine burning coal replaces burning eyes and I cry in the Pompeian destruction of my heart.

Stand tall for those who fail.

This will be my last command,

Stand tall for those who fail.

Throw off the lights. Throw off the light


Wake up Marzia, the day has broken and the needles await

“Italia will come to you at last” she said smiling

But me, I felt nothing, like rolling water all around

And the dead sound that hit my ear was maybe

The remnants of her smile breaking on sunlight.    



“Hide the mirror! Hide it far away from the people of Night,”

“For shall we risk ourselves again aiming for old illusions.”

“Leave that to children” she said, and in me,

The words rang quite in tune:

“It’s a new melody, it’s a new melody” said I

Although I knew the chords.



“My sleep is not yours” she said, but she said it from so far

“My sleep is not yours” she said, voice of mistery,

Doesn’t belong to any body at leash.

“Is the room empty ?” I cried in fear

“Yes, I heard she said, like yesterday and today, and the nights before.




Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeams came from the cupboard!

No, these were mine

“Oh my God am I here all alone!”

Marzia, Marzia, Snow Queen of the Fall

Gather, Gather for the feast

Deliver us in beauty from our fatal quest to meaning!

White Queen, shoot it straight

White Queen, here we go again round that morning spear




“Marzia can you hear ! Can you feel !”

“Yes, but she didn’t respond me, I can see, I can see ! I’ve closed my eyes”

“Butter Queen! Take me in your depths,
Sliding down the road of consciousness with you.”

“Have you taken my chocolates, she said.”

“I am doing it, from the Everest Pinpoint”

-Echoes are chiming like morning haze-

“Mi scopia il culo!”

“White Queen, Come take my pain away.”

How come you taste so good, Jagger told me

-She ‘s always been sugary-

“We’ve eaten the hours, but they’re vomishing us, said she”

“How can it be only monkeys climb my tree”

“I know what it’s like to be alive.”

“Silence !”

“Silence !”



Silence indeed was falling back, featherlike

.
Pillowfully painting, pillowfully painting, pillowfully painting...


“I must leave”
                                
     Eyes, ceiling, glue. Blue eyes, blond hair. Italia first.
     Eyes, sealing, girl. Blue eyed, blond waves. Italian flesh.

“I know what it’s like to be left”            
                    
      High sea, reel blue. Blue eyes, blond hair. Weaver thirst.
      Bye thee, healing pearl. Blue heart, blond days. Happens fast.



    Six hundred and eighty two lambs
             for October the sixth


                  Come by at three, come by at three


                                                         ­                                                I left without me

Passengers of scarcity.

Hi through dark and space to you my friend
Cause yes I know you
As you know me;
We’re both passengers of scarcity, guessed it huh?

I’ll begin like it started for me. I want it to be honest this time
-As if poets could be honest-
But let’s try my friend.

My evening sky doesn’t talk to me like it used to.
It talked louder then.
Before, I remember the before when my legs were fast, my heart full of hopes
And when we –you know- looked at reality only and only within the lenses of dreams.
Distrustful of truth, world-paintor inside the cupboard of our mind, schemer of realms of now and there...
Time has flown
Remember
Time has flown
And now my evening sky grew rarer.

But today it came to me
Almost as loud as before
And I could see once again
In crimson and purple.

“Soon I’ll come back, ma!”
The children play! Madman you hear

Don’t you look back in wonder sometimes?
Don’t you look back at you like at a stranger
Passing by. Walking on the sidewalk of your notice
And you turn and you look at his back
As he steps away, eaten by the crowd
And you wonder ‘This man...’
Whose face you’re not really sure
Whose air, maybe... in a foreign country...
But through your voluntary mist something knows
It was you.
Little shame, little laugh.
Little forget, little lie
Let’s add another mindless night
To twenty thousand others.

“Oh man! Such a spastic.
Crippled.
How can he walk along with that big
Too big!
Can’t he see it is showing
runny, weeping,  noisy, babbling
Heart.
Man, it’s showing!
Hide it;

Hide it.

Hide it!”

It was you;

Now I’m hungry for your light
-Jealousy gnaws at the sheets of my memory –
My belly roars at the table. The neighbour she told me. She heard it from her bathtub.

The hairdryer is still hot.
"Sombebody was killed here man!"
Can’t see the body... But, I can smell it.
The hairdryer is still hot
"Why do you smile girl"
There was a ****** here.
See the hairdryer.
Don’t you... Why keep you smiling?
We really need to leave before...
The hairdryer you know
I wish you’d stop smiling girl!
See!
See!"
A hand
-I can’t move-
Creeps on
-I can’t move!-
The Hairdryer
-Please, please, stop laughing heart!-
It’s my fingers.

The mirror got broken.



Now you’re with me, I dropped a few lines between you and this
Like antipasta.
If I had an airline company for truth, I’d call it
‘Delayed’


Passengers of scarcity
We are.
We can see now.
Hungry for some light, always on the lookout
For the outside glow, to warm up dead bowels.
But
Passengers of scarcity
We were.
You just couldn’t see.
Your eyes mistook you.
For what were the words and dreams but the ailments of our locked-up souls
Already burning from within
Alone
Covered in the rags of self-deceit;
Ashes to the old

So little are you
So nothing you were.
Eyes breeding monsters
In your decadent corpse.
All your lies, all your animals
You put them here, not me!
Hunger has made its way through thy heart
And they have died in your cage.
Empty chuckle.
*** pause.









It was a poopause. At least one in your useless life.(just kidding)


So scarce.
The forced smile. The faded ‘hello’ to passing stranger
The hours of mindless thoughts and petty hopes.
Criminal mediocrity.
Vessels of going somewhere for
Going somewhere.
The to-do
To do.
To do something.
But really nothing struck you.
Desert.
A little too much food won’t fulfill it.
The phone fell silent with my lips –oh friends I need more than you-
The smoke of cigarettes is powder to your eyes
But nothing else.
Walk
Walk
Without purpose
Without even an idea of purpose
.
Isn’t it eternal Justice,
That those who have less
Have less.
Isn’t it eternally Just.
Of course, it’s hard for us the passengers
But there can’t be winners without losers though...
Still,
Reasons of the thirst...do not quell the thirst.

So what! What can we say! What can we do!
Oh! Who will save me.
Gimme some light sweet mamma!
Gimme some light!

Somewhere in the distance, two things:
a baby is born
-Blue-eyed-;
A gambler rolled the dice
-Eyes closed-;
A light sprung and a light dimmed
-You need black and white to draw pupils-
And my evening sky turned a dark pale of night.