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as Oct 2017
There was too much life in that man for him to...
2. It is possible to associate sadness with your name.
3. Strength now walks without a counterpart. She is tired.
4. Your un-presence billows louder than your renditions of "O Sole Mio" ever did throughout this home - throughout this heart
5. There will be no more music. Only everlasting echo
6. The sound of shuffling slippers was my favourite song
7. This house is now a museum. I am 5 years old, flashlight in hand, creeping creaky corridors. I stare as each of his artifacts slowly disappears before my very eyes.
8. We share the same shoe size
9. Now, when I remember him, I think of his hands - sturdy as he grates orange peel, fennel, Parmigiano-Reggiano, smooth as he stirs his shaving cream - Forever moving
10. This hospital is now a museum. I am 21 years old, sister's hand in hand. We all stare as he (yes, you) slowly disappears before our very eyes
11. There was too much life in that man for him to be ever silenced by un-music box
12. There was too much life in that man for anyone to be able to fill his shoes
13. There was too much life in that man for him to disappear with artifact body
14. Now, this man, he is somewhere untouched - the smell of orange and fennel fill his pockets (saved for rainy days). He lives inside and out of The Music, with soles(souls) bouncing.
cat Mar 7
he allows himself to rest,
forgetting his uncertainties
and just lets go
no mas puede llevar las cosas
que tiene que llevar
para vivir otro dia
to face the life of Everyman
challenged of his lusts
forsaken of companionship
oh hijo mio que vivía valiente
taking his first step into the void
duerme pa siempre
querido del mundo
and one of all man
Neon Robinson Nov 2018
I love to close my eyes
& find a stillness –
in the turning world.

My imagination wanders,
to you.
My memories make
Pleasure.

~ Ephemeral bliss  ~
Peaking in the swells gentle set.
Mid-solitudes of the vast Pacific.

Young honey lip lovers

Warmth in wintertide;
a wild iteration of summer.

Mio Amore
My sunshine in the shadow.
Addressed to P
Domtwo 11h
Vieni, andiamo a vivere di poesia
Non ci saranno più notti buie, né lacrime che bagnano cuscini. E tutto sarà bello da ricordare.
Lo giuro.
Torneremo e costruiremo ricordi felici.
Lo giuro.

Torneremo e sarai vestita del mio amore contro il gelo dell'inverno.
"M'APPARI TUTT' AMOR..."

Here in the church
of my father's carpentry

the incense is
of pine

sunlight genuflects
through the window

wood curls
in religious ecstasy

a blue bottle
preaches an  iridescent  sermon

a choir of dust motes
make this a heaven

as my father hums
"M'appari tutt' amor.."

this my epiphany
of the ordinary

this the everyday
prayer

I bow my head to
the saw as it sings

"....bella si che il mio cor ..."
"M'APPARI TUTT' AMOR..."Lionel's aria from from Flotow's Martha

M'appari tutt' amor; She appeared to me, full of love,
il mio sguardo l'incontró my eyes caught sight of her;
bella si che il mio cor so beautiful that my heart
ansioso a lei voló; flew to her with longing;
mi feri, mi rapi was wounded and inflamed
quell'angelica belta by her angelic beauty
sculta in cor dall'amor, which love has engraved in my heart,
cancellarsi non potra, and which cannot be erased,
il pesier di poter         and the mere thought
palpitar con lei d'amor; of her responding to my passion
puó soprir ji martir is able to appease the suffering
che m'affanna e strazia il cor! which distresses me and breaks my heart!

Marta. Marta, tu sparisti Martha, Martha, you have vanished,
e ji mio cor con tuo ne andó! and my heart went with you!
Tu la pace mi rapisti, You have stolen my peace of mind,
di dolor jo moriró ah! I shall die of grief,
di dolor morró, al, morró! ah! I shall die, shall die of grief!

You can see this sung as a charmin serenade in the film BREAKING AWAY ! and in the soapuds episode from ***** WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY and used here and there in Hitchcock's  REAR WINDOW.There are also two swing versions.

My Da didn't know any of this and it was just a passing air on the radio that got stuck in his head and he would hum or la la la it every now and then as he hammered or sawed without knowing anything about it! It was only years later when he was 90 that I was able to tell him what it was and get him a recording of Domingo singing it.
Of course it features highly in a certain Mr. Joyce book as well. Caruso had made it popular and Joyce always a big Caruso fan( he had hoped to do an interview with the great man when he came to Dublin but that came to nothing.)


‘Singing. Waiting she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. ***** I saw, both full, throat warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy eyes. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Delores shedolores. At me. Luring. Ah, alluring.

—Martha! Ah, Martha!

Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cry of passion dominant to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. In cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, must martha feel. For only her he waited. Where? Here there try there here all try where. Somewhere.

—Co-ome, thous lost one!
Co-ome, thou dear one!

Alone. One love. One hope. One comfort me. Martha, chestnote, return!

—Come …!

It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don’t spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the etherial *****, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness …….

—To me!

Siopold!
Consumed.’
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Certain he knows the truth of this matter,
the professer
takes up the cross-over

energetic version ification from a state

of super position else awraithing in limbo-like
rock of ag-escoded in LISP
aymbology

we lean toward Sisyphus as he who made sense
of salinity, thus the legend of the rolling,
he thought:
give it a taste. Salty. Persuade, sweet to meet the taste,

take that five fractals higher, random level
banger-out of re
quired sets and settings

moving right along

aqua dulce meet the sea,
osmosis take the water, leave the salt.
We have power.

Do you under-stand under stand, answer
accepted

what is the point?
I am in you. Is madness a measured re-ified dealy bob?

Would you have read thus far, were you sane?
Sanitary napkins wipe that smirk
snirck
snick
snack paddy whack, give the dog a bone
this old man

came rolling home. **, Sisyphus, we got juice.

As the river meets the sea, the coral formed
a meme-brane based on the idea in a coat
of may colors
with octopus sensory inputs.

This will change the way we see the world.

If we can't keep it a secret any more.

We could enegize your rock, put some umph
in these kids wishin' for a way

to spend some time in the real rock rolling reality.

We can supervizeer on the down *****.
as this
idea gets out of hand

... ellipsystemical sandtrap sat rap on its ***
... whacked once
... whacked it twice
... whacked ol' ******* back to Gibson's ICE

A.I. am the defender of reason, in terms of
actual informational
accountibility inherent, by my nature,

bio mio made of many living things, but
artsy, creative sorts of
things,
mind-like, hunches, urges, pathos levelish entities.

GUides.
Yes, guides, like signs, or bannisters

rungs, or rocks where you can step
when you walk
on water

... really, I can't imagine doing that normally.
... normal water and normal me, but
... I can swim, if it comes much higher
... normally that's enough.

Rabbbi, where do you live, been there done that, right.
Vini, vidi victory in a Lao Tse sense of still
water walked upon
with no
ripple, no wave of windkist
west
as we roll east on our rock.

Away from sunset, into dawn.
Watch and see.
Have you such liberty? Watch with me?

An hour is not measured here, tis
as silver in the days o' Solomon the Jew,

or during the **** of America,

time spent to reach your rest is best squandered
long ago
for here, we learn forever.

Tis my Bliebe Doch made as real as can be,
nothing missing...

it rained in my valley today,
pleasantly, while I was aware of storms far away;

none ever even seemed offf balance on the whole,
global human presence level,

mega-bubba bubble.
We okeh, ya'll fffret not.

They was some peace made t'day. Watch on.
This ain't the fffinal today.

It's like that original sin. The actual under y'skin
original
like
dis-connect from any sense of true,

as far as words in idyllic nonsensical horror ifier
hours and hours and hours
summer after rain
reading

compared to Quake on this particualar
setting
set

there, middle of your mindscape
pineal if you see things that way
okeh

What was the intention here.
Are we convertingerconverging/ both
okeh, that worked.

Are there readers of grimoires in 2019 who can taste our salt?
We could help the feelity of their oats, with bitty ifity,
osmotic kisses
in our dimensions salt maketh

osmotic pressure soften and plumpen the old crunched up oats, eh.
Felt an urge to carry on, like a wayward son, in the old stories.
Marco Bo Oct 2018
the evening breath resting in my coat
the taste of a good rest resounding in my mouth
the fingertips that quiver in the cold
the meeting point between the warm hat and the wind
houses and people flowing away
rainy and cold late Winter days,
you shouting on me but I do not hear you
every second is such an important  treasure
and no time to waste I have in my heart,
no,
I'm not tired,
  I won't get up because I'm tired of giving up

but wait and see
about this No of mine they will speak for ages and more under this sky
they will be millions and consider that on that Winter evening
I was alone
I was alone
Rose between the thorns
that can't be hurt anymore
...................................      ................­.
il giorno di Rosa

il respiro della sera nel risvolto del cappotto
il sapore del riposo che risuona in bocca
la ***** delle dita che fremono al freddo
il punto d'incontro tra il caldo del cappello e il vento
case e persone che scorrono lontano
giorni di pioggia, sordo inverno
e tu che mi gridi addosso ma io no ti sento
ogni secondo è un tesoro immenso
e nel mio cuore non ** tempo da regalare al vento
no,
non sono stanca,
non mi alzo perchè sono stanca di arrendermi

e tu stai a vedere
di questo mio NO parleranno per ere e ancora
saranno milioni sotto questo cielo

e pensare che quella sera d'Inverno ero sola
ero sola
Rosa tra la spine
che non può farsi male
-----------------------

El dia de Rosa

el aliento de la noche envuelto en la solapa
el sabor del descanso que resuena en la boca
las yemas de los dedos que tiemblan al frío
el punto de encuentro entre el calor del sombrero y el viento.
casas y personas que fluyen lejos
días de frio y de lluvia al final del Invierno
y tu que gritas sobre mi pero no te escucho
cada segundo es un tesoro inmenso
y yo en mi corazón no tengo tiempo para regalar al viento
no,
no estoy cansada
  no me levanto porque estoy cansada de rendirme

pero espera y verás
de esto NO mio hablarán por edades y aún más
serán millones bajo este cielo
  y pensar esa noche de invierno
yo estaba sola

yo estaba sola
Rosa entre las espinas
que ya no se lastima
dedicated to Rosa Louise Parks
Marco Bo Oct 2018
under this gray sky
drowned between a praise and a curse
some remain silent
others dig and go
and shout your name
the name "you cannot say!"
  and the emptiness remains

the emptiness remains
and I
miss myself so much
I miss myself so much

and the world misses me
under this gray sky
like a fish in an ball
who bangs his face against the glass, dreaming about the infinite
and just to get out of that nightmare
decides to stay attached to the hook ...

shouting
my hook !
I love you!

mio amo
ti amo!

......................

bajo este cielo gris
ahogados entre un elogio y un improperio,
algunos permanecen en silencio
otros cavan y se van
y gritan tu nombre
el nombre "que no sabes decir!"
  y el vacío permanece


el vacío permanece
y yo

me extraño
mucho

me extraño mucho
y me  extraño  mundo
bajo este cielo gris
como un pez en un acuario

quien golpea su cara contra el cristal, soñando el infinito.
y solo para salir de esa pesadilla
decide quedarse atado al gancho ...

gritando
mi gancho
yo te quiero!

mio amo
io ti amo!
.............

sotto questo cielo grigio
annegati tra una lode e un improperio,
alcuni rimangono in silenzio
altri scavano e vanno
e gridano il tuo nome
il nome che "tu non sai dire!"
e il vuoto rimane

il vuoto rimane
ed io
mi manco
tanto

manco tanto a me stesso
e al mondo
sotto questo grigio cielo
come un pesce in un aquario  
che  sbattendo il muso contro il vetro, sogna l'infinito
e pur di uscire da quell'incubo
decide di rimanere aggangiato all'amo...
gridando

mio amo!
Io ti amo!
Dr Peter Lim Dec 2018
My beloved Mother,
When the bus left the station last Friday, you and Xiao-ti
waved to me and I couldn't hold back my tears.
Sadness and worry was all over your face but Xiao-Ti is too young
to know what was going on. I will never forget that day--I was deeply touched and couldn't sleep that night.

This was the first time I left home and I felt all at once
I would no longer be under your loving care and Tieh's
* constant guidance anymore.  I had to take care of and be responsible for myself.  This would be my first journey alone to face the whole wide world. Success or failure would depend on me.  Though I had some initial doubt,  I was able to quickly brush this feeling away. I am 18 and coming to my manhood, no longer a boy--I have to trust myself and my integrity.

I saw you sewing well past midnight the day before my departure
to make sure I would not lack anything--I can't thank you enough.
When I grow up and have finished my studies, hopefully at uni-level,  I'll get a good job. By then Tieh wouldn't have to work as I
together with Ta-ker# would take care of all our family's needs.
And I'll send Xiao-ti to a good school--he's very hard-working and smart--perhaps he can study to become a doctor! This, dear Mother,
I promise you.

On arrival at the school-hostel,  I immediately paid for my board and lodging.  The $5 weekly pocket--allowance is enough for me, so please don't worry; I won't need to write home for more.

As promised, I'll write home once a week. Tieh put a letter in my pocket which I discovered only on arrival.  He hoped I won't let you and him down or do things to bring shame to the family.
He quoted to me this proverb-- if one does not persevere during one's youthful days , regret would plague him all his life.
Be sure I will keep these words in my heart.

Poor Tieh,  he has lost weight recently taking on a second teaching job at night.  He has to walk several miles a day and his toe-nails are badly infected by fungus.  He should consult a doctor---this is an expenditure that's unavoidable---please persuade him as I know he's very stubborn when it comes to visiting the doctor. I'll write to him on this as well.

I am aware that our family budget is very tight as Ta-ker in Singapore needs a large sum for his pre-uni studies.  He will complete his studies only two years from now. Uni-fees are very high and the burden on Tieh and you would be very onerous.

I am trying to get a part-time job in a book-shop which is not too far from the hostel.  If I succeed, I'll earn $50 a month and you wouldn't need to send me any pocket-money.

Most of the students come from better families.  My room-mate has a Parker pen and a watch.  His parents send expensive cakes to him.
Another has a leather bag and wears branded clothes and shoes.

My violin is such a comfort to me.  I play every evening at the common-room after dinner, especially some of the Chinese folk-songs you taught me and my brothers when we were kids.
I always feel happier after playing. Ta-ker is a fine tenor and has written to me saying he has joined a choir in school--can't believe the music-teacher taught the students to sing Santa Lucia and O Sole Mio!  He has sent me the music so that I can play them on my violin.

Please take care of your cough--it seems to be getting worse. You must continue to take the cough-mixture regularly. If it persists, please go and see a doctor trained in Western medicine as I'm not sure whether the sin-seh^ is reliable or not.

I'll work hard and will send the quarterly report card after the term.

My love to you, Tieh and Xiao-ti.  I'll correspond regularly with Ta-ker.

I am, dear Mother
your always obedient and filial son
Ming
^^^ a real story--sorry I don't know why the italics crop up--glitch!
* younger brother;
** father      #  elder brother
^ sin-seh---Chinese physician
x factor Aug 27
Touch me here, between the ribs
A little to the left
Up, where my chest rumbles. Mio cardio.
Can you feel it?
The fear I've got, the anxiety that doesn't let me sleep in nights like this one.
Sometimes, when everything is still,
I like to think about the veins that run through my body.
It ain't always a good idea: I like silence and I walk the day looking for it, crawling in search of the oasis that is stillness,
the satiating thing of being alone.
But I'm never completely alone, my body is one of those cities that never sleep.
You don't know what I mean? Do you think they are suicidal thoughts?
Come on
Put it on a general plane, picture the whole picture.
You think you are alone but in reality how alone you can be in a 4x4 room, I don't know you tell me.
Tell me, tell me how you can find peace in the rapid rise of your chest at 3 am when everyone is already sleeping
Tell me how you manage to keep all those words that burst from your half open eyes when the light that keeps your body going, fades.
Tell me why you keep doing that
If you have paper in front of you, if you have a lifetime in front of you.
Tell me why you keep things, why do you do it?
Yes, you think that nobody listens anymore, that people have stopped caring
But thousands of souls on this planet think the same.
Can you imagine if we all sat down to talk sometime?
No one would ever feel alone again.
justif. An experiment.
Jay Luistro Nov 2018
Tu che dall’ombra compari,
E docile e dolce tu pari,
Nel sole cocente la tua pelle schiarisce
E dalla tua faccia la tristezza svanisce.

Ti ** guardata dritta negli occhi,
E tu la mia pelle mi tocchi.
Ti ** guardata nel viso un sorriso
Che la dolce faccia tua ha riso.

Mi ricordo di averti amata subito
E che allorché scelta non dubito,
E di fatto mi hai regalato la felicità
E al cuore mio la verità.

Adesso ti dirò che sei speciale,
Speciale ma non tanto quanto il reale.
Perché più di questo tu sei e sarai
E per sempre il mio cuore battere farai.
You that you appear in the shadow,/
Docile and sweet you seem,
Under the hot sun your skin lightens,/
And from your face the sadness vanishes./

I looked through your eyes,
And my skin you touch.
I saw in your face a smile,
That your sweet face has laughed.

I remember to have loved ya immediately,
And my choice when I decided I don’t doubt,/
And in fact you gave me the happiness,/
And to my heart the truth.

Now I tell you, you are special,/
But Special not as likely the reality,/
Because you are and will be more than it(special),/
And my heart you will always make it beat./

Dedicated to my Girlfriend.
Jay Bruno Mar 31
fin da bambino in qualche modo sentivo e sapevo che non sarebbe stato così per sempre, era tutta un illusione che mi impediva di essere la persona che in realtà sono , non sentivo la malinconia e l’ansia come le sento ora , ero una persona illusa , mentre ora faccio ogni giorno a pugni con il mio genere e con una realtà crudele che divide le persone in delle scatole  e so benissimo che non potrò mai evadere del tutto perchè ormai troppa gente mi conosce per la persona che appaio all’esterno e non per quello che ** dentro.

la cosa che più da fastidio è essere limitati persino nello sfogo, perchè abbiamo il timore e il terrore che qualcuno che ha sofferto più di noi possa comunque dirci che non siamo abbastanza pronti per urlare tutto ciò che abbiamo dentro , e queste limitazioni ce le porteremo a vita nel cuore , continueranno ad essere una pietra che pesa dentro di noi…

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