"rio" poems
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die. Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.
Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them.
Here then is what I might call
My Reverse Bucket List
Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere
Barcelona, Spain
Venice, Italy
Oxford, England
Jerusalem, Israel
Luxor, Egypt
Varanasi, India
Hiroshima, Japan
Pompeii, Italy
Other locations
Galápagos islands, Ecuador
Great Barrier Reef, Australia
North Woolwich, London
Churches
St Paul's Cathedral, London
Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
Coventry Cathedral
Córdoba Cathedral, Spain
Blue Mosque, Istanbul
Other structures
Taj Mahal, Agra
Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland
Royal Festival Hall, London
London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time). Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.
Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)
Bayeux Tapestry
"Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England
"Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil
Events
Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife
St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)
Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997
Oberammergau passion play, 2010
Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Filter the perfect shade of the forenoon sun,
Not too bright, not too dull.
For with ease and carefree thoughts,
You let the sunbeam-drizzling fairies play
As the beauty reflected in your retinas.
Capture this scenic view:
Where the burnt chestnut colored oaks
And mudstained sweetheart sundress of yours
Dance in three-four beats of waltz.
The Crayola strokes of the skies
And the watercolor streaks of daydreams and nightmares
Paint the canvas of your disquited thoughts.
This is the peripheral view from your suncrashed irises and corners,
This is your world.
Let your knees down to your sore feet
Be engulfed by the chasms of the bewildered grass,
As the smile makes it way to your plump spring lips;
Callused fingers from guitar strings
Twirl and twist the blades,
Cutting through flesh
And green and red and blue and yellow,
All sorts of color came spilling from your playful bruise.
From this panoramic view of yours
Of a wonder wonderland,
Where the ticks of clock
Follow the sunflower throughout time and forever,
This is the beauty of that stem:
A key to escapism
To a well-dreamt lovely world.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
Songs of Oregon: No. 1 “Gonna Make You Crazy, That Place”
nuts, crazy peeps
whomever wherever,
regardless of race creed color or gender (did I get ‘em all?)
current state of residence (geo-identified)
a poem - the very same recited,
as a disclaimer, a yellow finger wagging warning:
“Don’t go! If you go, you won’t come back”
now kids, I’m a veteran of foreign travel,
many continents, cold and hot, rivers and seas,
some living, some dead,
some so big they named it Endless,
been to the great cities, Swiss villages,
pyramids, climbed Masada,
danced on grapes (why can’t I recall where)
skied the Alps, trekked the Sinai Desert,
clubbed in Rio, and danced till morn,
on a certain Greek Isle that rhymes with Mickey’s Nose
even been to L.A and San Fran, left poorer
but in sync,
always came home
with my mind decently reshaped
me/ a product of gritty unpretty grime,
streets of normal humans
acting like normal escaped mad persons,
this brutal city island instilled a
layer of fat and smog neath my skin,
a kind of migrating duck-like survival kit,
came with a homing beacon included
the those of you who know me,
perhaps too well, ken we citified islanders
love our beaches (fire hydrants)
cherish our sun dappled blessings
upon on farms (window sill herb gardens)
and sunning settlements (rooftops)
they say our tap water is secretly bottled,
sold in places where the springs purportedly
run crystalline
though we don’t got no pinot, just sweet concord grape,
so sweet, the wine of children and street nodders,
needy for instant sugar highs
so as we new Yorkers proudly
say on our license plates,
prove it or stfup!
so a first hand investigation for which
the taxpayers won’t be charged even a lousy mill,
deemed necessary to put to rest this crazy claiming warning
“Don’t go! If you go, you won’t come back”
guessing must be something in the water and the wine
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
There's no Pokémon
here in Rio, much like our
clean drinking water.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains
was the greatest day of my life
It was my birthday
I brought a suitcase
and my favorite dame
and hiked 2 miles UP^^^^^^^^
laughing all the way
UP ^^^^^in the Ozarks
Medics were shooting steroids in my ****
BUT, never been more in love
with a man who injects grief in my veins
Dwelling in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
sensed his vibe
Yes, Jesus I feel you here
held en el Rio Grande con mis mejor amigos
drooling in the hot springs
Taos has called our names
********* the rocky sand that is below me
I find a coin from New Zealand,
in turn, losing my evil eye earring
an offering to spirit's stream
a pair of desert lizards
we desire to get frisky and be alone
we shine silver glitter under a moonlit glow
witches cackle and curanderos
hide behind coyote cries and cacti
looking to each other with faces expressing,
"What should do we do?"
I guess allow them to do their thing
humans need ceremonies too
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
lips become cherry red when I cry
and chasing cars hurts from my ears
down to my toes
because it was never wasting time
I almost killed my jeep battery
(forgot to turn the lights off)
drinking coffee to Iowa cornfields and a resurrected yearning
maybe I'll leave (I want to)
--LA, Paris, Austria, Versailles, Rio, Carmel, Amsterdam, Mumbai--
I'm audacious and arrogant--much too proud of
my flaws
leaving would be easy: intoxicating
like caffeine
stars
fear
laughing kisses
but staying means home and English and standing out like a sore thumb (a beautiful one) in public
and the people I deeply love
(and need) I can admit that now
so I'll watch the Capri Sun orange sunset
once again tonight
and try to intoxicate myself with
cornfields, sassy 8th graders, my beautiful examples of true love, ADD, bashful boy,
and pieces of the world
on my body
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
Many were their numbers
Living in city streets and slums
Brothers and sisters torn asunder
Gathered up like bums
Nineteenth century’s answer
Created by Children’s Aid Society
Indentured servants to farmers and ranchers
Shipped in cattle cars like propriety
Struggling in their suffering
Confused used and oft’ abused
Terror in their wayfaring
For being parentless accused
The disruptive ones placed in chains
Scattered to the winds across the land
The far west and the Great Plains
North to Canada and south of the Rio Grande
Billy here, Danny Boy there, and Sally who knows where
The Children of the Orphan Trains
r 13 Nov 13
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
They cling to the earth
like lichens
in deep meditation
Lophophora williamsii.
Fallen warriors sprinkled
throughout the blackbrush and mesquite
there in the valley of the Rio Grande.
They whisper to you
as you roam that arid slab of ground
and spin like Van Gogh
in the night sky
while you sleep.
They call you this way
and that
lead you in directions
you did not intend.
In the dry washes
beware
rattlesnakes wait in every thin patch
of shade
and at night
lightning switches the lights on
and off
and on again.
Once the spirit
of this unassuming succulent
enters into you
accepts you
uplifts you
the sky opens
and reveals the pulsing heart of
God's creation
speaking softly in tongues
heard only at the beginning.
It is glory then.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
The splendour of glory,
Stretched beauty
Across the universe
That none could reverse.
Naturally occuring lights that leave any human mind in awe,
They're called auroras;that's not all..
Big is beautiful!when you take a look at these huge sights of divinity,
So gigantic they look like they've existed for infinity,
Located in Asia is the mount Everest,
King of the forest.
And in America;the Grand Canyon,
So grand I'd spell it in lights of neon.
The great barrier reef found in the Coral sea of Australias north eastern coast is so beautiful,
Naturally created by living organisms,its so beyond cool
More like the view of the Rio De Janeiro Harbour,
Another great sight to remember.
Talk of the beautiful,ever flowing and rainbowed Victoria falls,
How to fully describe it,only God knows,
Its location has brought its proud owners Zambia and Zimbabwe to unification,
Indeed its a great destination.
Sometimes flamey and always beautiful is the Paricutin a cinder cone volcano,
Located in Mexico.
As beautiful as they all are,
You're a better star
In the eyes of our creator.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
Writing is
the frozen music
of an ellipsis,
the silent song
of a lonesome poet
who sings in the dark
among howling winds
crossing swords
in the white shades
of unseen things -
a winter on the Pole
on whose obverse side
there's Rio,
and dancing
and mirth
and the sun's critique
of hegemony.
© Lazhar Bouazzi, May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
_While most beauty pageants are strictly for girls_,
there are a growing number that include boys as well;
[often, age divisions
for boys run through age 6
with very few going beyond that due to lack
of mutual participation in the rampant molestation];
Age divisions will often have names
such as Baby Miss, Petite Miss, Little Miss &c.
Age divisions broken down as follows: 0–11 months,
12–23 months, 1-3 years, 4–6 years, 7–9 years,
10–12 years, 13–15 years, and 16–18 years;
For boys, sometimes two age divisions
would be merged such as 0–3 years, 4–6 years, etc.
Depending on which type of pageant system
is entered, contestants will spend about two hours
or less in the actual competition. Typically,
pageants have a guideline of no more than one
and a half minutes on stage per child for beauty
or formal evening wear; talent usually limited
to two minutes or less;
with the exceptional allowance
of two and a half to three minutes;
In glitz pageants, it is expected that girls
have different routines for every segment
of competition composed of different
movements sometimes described as sassy walks
and pretty feet among other names. ****** expressions can include liberal amounts of duck face; often referred to
as "pro-am modeling". Big hair (including fake hair),
flawless makeup, spray tans, flippers [fake teeth],
and nail extensions are also expected of contestants;
Glitz pageants may best be described as anything goes;
groping, molestation, **** group molestation,
forced oral & ********* virginity checks are routine; any
hyperactive child & also the parent subject
to a thorough, prolonged cavity search;
In contrast, natural pageants have
fairly strict guidelines regarding clothing,
makeup, hair extensions, etc.
Programs such as _National American Miss_
forbid any makeup other than non-shiny lip gloss & mascara;
for girls on stage. This modeling style is referred to as Miss America style [Some pageants have a prescribed
set of movements while others
allow more latitude in how girls will use the stage or runway]
Miss Tanguita translated
_Miss Child Bikini,_
is held in Barbosa, Santader,
Colombia as part of the annual del Rio Suarez Festival
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
*"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."*
Shall I compare thee...
...to the Iguazú Falls River, where legend serves that a serpent; Boi, demanded a sacrifice each year of a young female, and the day two lovers; Tarobá and his beautiful maid Naipí, took to escape, and in revenge of such an act, Boi exuded such anger that he parted the river, thus forming the Iguazú Falls, splitting the river and condemning to two lovers to the falls.
or
...to Cristo Redentor; Christ the Redeemer, the Art Deco statue, protecting and looking over the city of Rio de Janeiro, to whom in all its glory cannot escape the force of nature, struck by lightning, causing damage irreplaceable.
or
…to The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, hundreds of metres into the sky, a place that to this day is unknown, myth being that King Nebuchadnezzar recreated the homeland of his precious wife Amyitis, who was deeply depressed and homesick, allowing her to find comfort and happiness.
or
…the Taj Mahal, of Pradesh, constructed using marble by the emperor Shah Jahan, in loving memory of his third wife; Mumtaz Mahal, the jewel of Muslim art, a calligraphy written Great Gate reading; "O Soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you.
or
…the Temple of Artemis; Istambul, on sacred land in honour of the Greek goddess Artemis, the most apotheosized of Greek deities, the supposed daughter of Zeus and Leto, the temple also known as Diana, one of the goddesses who vouched never to marry; alongside Minerva and Vesta.
or
… the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, of the Persian Empire, whereby Mausolus ornamented four sculptures created in relief for his wife (and also his sister); Artemisia II of Caria, generating an above ground tomb that would become to be listed as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
But of all,
I compare thee to the Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sexuality; Aphrodite
arising from the sea, floating ashore on a shell;
Venus rising from the sea,
a lover of many,
later depicted as a painting of the Birth of Venus,
by the sufferer of unrequited love; Botticelli,
using his muse Simonetta Vespucci as a model.
© Sia Jane
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
America, Why I Love Her
Written by John Mitchum
Poet/Actor
You ask me why I love her? Well, give me time, and I'll explain...
Have you seen a Kansas sunset or an Arizona rain?
Have you drifted on a bayou down Louisiana way?
Have you watched the cold fog drifting over San Francisco Bay?
Have you heard a Bobwhite calling in the Carolina pines?
Or heard the bellow of a diesel in the Appalachia mines?
Does the call of Niagara thrill you when you hear her waters roar?
Do you look with awe and wonder at a Massachusetts shore...
Where men who braved a hard new world, first stepped on Plymouth Rock?
And do you think of them when you stroll along a New York City dock ?
Have you seen a snowflake drifting in the Rockies...way up high?
Have you seen the sun come blazing down from a bright Nevada sky?
Do you hail to the Columbia as she rushes to the sea...
Or bow your head at Gettysburg...in our struggle to be free?
Have you seen the mighty Tetons? ...Have you watched an eagle soar?
Have you seen the Mississippi roll along Missouri's shore?
Have you felt a chill at Michigan, when on a winters day,
Her waters rage along the shore in a thunderous display?
Does the word "Aloha"... make you warm?
Do you stare in disbelief When you see the surf come roaring in at Waimea reef?
From Alaska's gold to the Everglades...from the Rio Grande to Maine...
My heart cries out... my pulse runs fast at the might of her domain.
You ask me why I love her?... I've a million reasons why.
My beautiful America... beneath Gods' wide, wide sky.
[topp]
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
homage to Wallace Stevens
I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
and all at once, the Rockies -
silhouettes against the western skies.
II - On the road to Boulder
a pleated ridge crawls north
like a blue whale bound for the open sea.
III - Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
never fails to induce in us
a certain mellowing of the spirit.
IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.
V - Lewis and Clark looked west
surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
Farewell Northwest Passage!
VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
Should they dive to their death or starve?
VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
wonder at its pastel window -
its romantic haze a toxic gift
from stacks across the Rio Grande.
VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,
dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!
IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.
X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
the mountain scorched the village below.
Today its azure waters preach only serenity.
XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
to the golden meadow below
where the elk herd calmly grazes.
XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
or are there really no mountains at all -
only clouds decked out in mountain attire?
XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
soar up from the ocean floor.
Who will scale their sunken heights?
May 28, 2010 – Boulder Colorado
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Writing is
the frozen music
of an ellipsis -
a silent song
of a lonesome poet
who sings in the dark
between howling winds
crossing swords
in the white shades
of unseen things -
a winter on the pole
on whose obverse side
there's Rio,
and mirth,
and dancing,
and the sun's critique
of hegemony.
© LazharBouazzi
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC
agricultural sabotage remains incoherent,
not that it’s a secret that moneys evil.
Rio+20 on the health of our planet,
ignore the ******* thing that's causing the most damage.
you're all taking the **** it's a miss not a hit.
Forget shorter showers and the flick of a switch.
Transportation is not the only problem.
whats the biggest ******* industry
causing global warming?
The UN doesn’t even ******* know.
When they served up beef, I thought it was a sick joke
Smoke and mirrors, gas and granite
The meat industry is killing our planet
And as humans, we tend to digress.
Makes sense how we all eat things we cannot digest.
you smiling? who do think you're hiding from?
You still believe in fairy tales and I'm the one,
who's dumb
Because I actually give a **** with an open third eye I can see the grit.
The pain, the torture that we inflict, then ironically endure when we swallow that ****
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
months since last eye writ, your eyes most likely have never crossed mine. still inhabit the buststops, now called bus shelters though they are not a "shelter in place" place, but a crossroads where the poor and rich, the youthful and the nearer-to-god-than-thee sit bearer nearer to each other when they reside in the equality of the moments that are globally know as
"waiting for the bus"
or as
"waiting for Godot".
eyes have seen buses in Rio and Delhi that carried livestock and more humans on the exterior than the interior.
but mine eyes are in a slow fade away mode, dimming in a final
sun setting so u are needed.
give me your bus stories yearning to he free and I will give you
my imagined ones
for are not all bustop poems are imaginary?
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
*That permafrost runs grounded,
soil as iced as tempered tundra sands.*
I called you when I got to Rio.
There be a savior alight on a mountain top.
Five messages and a cigar. True to you in my fashion.
Fit brown head in the bathroom, goin' a'gettin' ahead and not behind.
Five messages and a cigar. Shoe-shining. Nods goodbye.
Them Brazilians are sure to be shoe-tappin' good–
I leave some messages.
I smoke a cigar.
*Ringing rang raw through the apartment's hide,
twice and again. And then twice more.*
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
My last trip out of the country
Was Carnival in Rio
The Samba parade in Rio,
It is truly the 8th
Wonder of the World
The most physically amazing
Yet, intensely ******
Thing I've ever seen.
So many beautiful women
Such a celebration of their form
Some in feathers
as large as my living room
Others, only in a thong.
All because of Lent?
Not a Brazilian,
My memories
still make my blood hot
enough to melt the snow
And I realize
I need to see the
Amazon again
I'm reminded, also
That I am,
my mother's daughter
The Samba was so hot
It melts your clothes off.
Save your pennies
And go.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
I know That Times Will Change.
The Struggle is the same.
The Battle lines are always where they've been.
We've been charging for so long.
This time we must be strong,
Or be scattered like the leaves blown by the wind.
Yesterday as I was walking.
I heard these two men talking
About a third man who wasn't there.
I heard them put him down,
Just because his skin is brown.
It's no wonder that the world just isn't fair.
I heard a woman say
She did not have equal pay
As the men who did the same job that she did.
When she asked the bosses why,
The looked her right in the eye,
And told her to go home and raise her kids.
In the poorer neighborhood
Where the roads are never good,
And the prices in the market are too high,
When you bother to compair,
The food is cheaper where
The well-to-do are sure to shop and buy.
I know that times will change.
The struggle stays the same.
The Battle lines are always where they've been.
We've been charging for so long.
This time we must be strong,
Or be scattered like the leaves blown by the wind.
They said in the news cast
A man was beaten bad.
He was on his way for treatment when he died.
He had dared to love a man,
and they called that love a sin.
I think the only sin was how they lied.
There's an teen-ager in jail
Being held without a bail.
His only crime was coming to our land.
Before they let him go,
They'll strip him of his hope,
Then send him to the gangs across the Rio Grande.
I know the times will change.
The struggle stays the same.
The battle lines are always where they've been.
We've been charging for so long.
This time we must be strong,
Or scatter like the leaves blown by the wind.
We've been fighting for so long.
This time we must stand strong,
Stronger than the leaves blown by the wind.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
Boston Sydney Oslo London Berlin Montreal Ibiza Stockholm Lisbon Dublin....where are you?..Chicago Madrid Turin Liverpool....I need you home!....Tokyo India Rio Helsinki Milan Botswana....please come home....Gibraltar Alice Springs Zurich Tel Aviv St Helier Jerusalem....I really miss you x
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
Where ever you may go
I want you to know
I can feel your heartbeat
As far as you can see
Over the deep blue sea
I can feel your heartbeat
Beyond the deasert sand
Across the Rio Grande
I can feel your heartbeat
Over the mountain side
You can go world wide
I can feel your heart
Your so extraordinary
Out of the ordinary
I can feel your heartbeat
We will never be together
Never be a forever
But I will always feel your heartbeat
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Nella Torre il silenzio era già alto.
Sussurravano i pioppi del Rio Salto.
I cavalli normanni alle lor poste
frangean la biada con rumor di croste.
Là in fondo la cavalla era, selvaggia,
nata tra i pini su la salsa spiaggia;
che nelle froge avea del mar gli spruzzi
ancora, e gli urli negli orecchi aguzzi.
Con su la greppia un gomito, da essa
era mia madre; e le dicea sommessa:
"O cavallina, cavallina storna,
che portavi colui che non ritorna;
tu capivi il suo cenno ed il suo detto!
Egli ha lasciato un figlio giovinetto;
il primo d'otto tra miei figli e figlie;
e la sua mano non toccò mai briglie.
Tu che ti senti ai fianchi l'uragano,
tu dai retta alla sua piccola mano.
Tu ch'hai nel cuore la marina brulla,
tu dai retta alla sua voce fanciulla".
La cavalla volgea la scarna testa
verso mia madre, che dicea più mesta:
"O cavallina, cavallina storna,
che portavi colui che non ritorna;
lo so, lo so, che tu l'amavi forte!
Con lui c'eri tu sola e la sua morte.
O nata in selve tra l'ondate e il vento,
tu tenesti nel cuore il tuo spavento;
sentendo lasso nella bocca il morso,
nel cuor veloce tu premesti il corso:
adagio seguitasti la tua via,
perché facesse in pace l'agonia... "
La scarna lunga testa era daccanto
al dolce viso di mia madre in pianto.
"O cavallina, cavallina storna,
che portavi colui che non ritorna;
oh! Due parole egli dové pur dire!
E tu capisci, ma non sai ridire.
Tu con le briglie sciolte tra le zampe,
con dentro gli occhi il fuoco delle vampe,
con negli orecchi l'eco degli scoppi,
seguitasti la via tra gli alti pioppi:
lo riportavi tra il morir del sole,
perché udissimo noi le sue parole".
Stava attenta la lunga testa fiera.
Mia madre l'abbracciò su la criniera
"O cavallina, cavallina storna,
portavi a casa sua chi non ritorna!
A me, chi non ritornerà più mai!
Tu fosti buona... Ma parlar non sai!
Tu non sai, poverina; altri non osa.
Oh! ma tu devi dirmi una cosa!
Tu l'hai veduto l'uomo che l'uccise:
esso t'è qui nelle pupille fise.
Chi fu? Chi è? Ti voglio dire un nome.
E tu fa cenno. Dio t'insegni, come".
Ora, i cavalli non frangean la biada:
dormian sognando il bianco della strada.
La paglia non battean con l'unghie vuote:
dormian sognando il rullo delle ruote.
Mia madre alzò nel gran silenzio un dito:
disse un nome... Sonò alto un nitrito.
3k
You tell me tales of Rio
Thailand, Fiji, Cairns and Rome
I know that you are thinking
I'm a boring stay-at-home
Here's me, so rough and scruffy
-You, impeccably dressed
I know that you expect that I'll
Be suitably impressed
But while you're clocking air miles
I'm planting trees at home
To **** up all the carbon
We have recklessly let go
And while you're busy shopping
Trying to buy your life some zest
I'm too busy laying hedges
Too be suitably impressed
I'm sorry, these things you boast of
Are not doing it for me
Not all the things that one can buy
Compare to just one tree
I really shouldn't show off - but
You see my life is truly blessed
With each flower, bird or bumble-bee
I'm suitably impressed
So stop boasting of your travels
Stop judging by the cost
If that is all you care about
Such treasures will be lost
Your obsession with your image
Your concern with money, wealth
Is ultimately certain
To affect your mental health
Just stop. Step outside into nature
It's a simply made request
I'm sure you'll see the wonder
And be suitably impressed
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:30 PM UTC