Undone

Sometimes reopen on the walls
the already closed furrows of memory
and again the hidden pain flows
Dark and thin is the twisted line of time
I run backwards along the fissures of torments
I can't remember other than goodbyes
unrealized lives
undone dreams

Voices in the silence

In the season
of the bright yellow ginkgo
you left
against the backdrop of a sky
gray and cold
There were no words
and there is no other life
The hearth is now extinguished
the old house ruined
the vineyard abandoned
I am as usual far away
can only touch with thought
the ancient stones
With the ladle I collect
and pour the icy copper water
in this unquenchable thirst
I retrace the used roads
the silent rooms
the dusty sickle and spade
lonely in the corner
The past is irretrievable
and the present surprises us
always unprepared
I make plans for the future
like a cunning general
I put my thoughts in advance
on hypothetical battlefields
But tomorrow is changing
there is no certainty for us

The world outside

I live in a silence
full of voices
in my mind
Overflowing lost lives
in dark meanders of time
Filled with non-existent objects
of now useless instructions

Solo

Orchid
liquid night
on the absolute rock
breeze and moon
mistress of faraway tides

From the well

No one lives here anymore

Two moons

At 00:00 02/29/2108 +11.00, you wrote:
I read the new posts. Do not worry beforehand that I will respond in kind ...
But now there is a stupendous sunset with the immense sun sinking into a red glare
that tears the delicate blue of this sky out of season.
I get emotional.
Erratic the thought floats in this sleepy evening and a vision touches my mind:
this is the same sunset that, stunned, I watched as a child reflected in the glass of my window.
But now the evening has fallen, the light has disappeared along with the old visions.
A sudden cold breeze rises to remind me that we are still in winter, and the darkest thoughts return.
I am moved again imagining how many incredible efforts are being made
in a desperate attempt to avert, in some way, our terrible mortal destiny.
Higher-order motivations are invented, even post-mortem worlds,
and we are also willing to risk having to suffer for eternity in a hypothetical hell
in order to nurture a senseless hope of immortality.
I can only sympathize with these my brothers believers but I do not want to delude myself.
I can't stand the idea of spending my life cultivating a trick. I want to know the truth.
And behold, no longer shielded by the dazzling sunlight,
our two wonderful green moons appear in the sky.
Greetings, Eli

The guest

Leafing through the pages of the wind
I read a few names
some old dates
Poets passing by
and never returned
They leave a greeting
a piece of their heart
more rarely a smile
There are those who engrave their names
who modestly erases it
Our soul mates
sick of nostalgia
I welcome all their feelings
every joy every torment
Where ever will you be
traveling poets
closed in the mystery
of magic words?
Different lives dreams
visions of better worlds

The follower

Green wave
undying
desire
The soul
perennial sylph
denies time
The dust settles
without effort
And I saw the one who followed
and it was profound pure
nudity of the night

Nests

Ruins
Rubble
Not always ancient
Ruins
brand new
entire neighborhoods
degraded suburbs
Ruinous centers
of ruined cities
Million of people
wildly
piled up
Urban fabrics
inhuman
crowded oceans
of solitudes
Ruins
architectural
of buildings
poorly designed
poorly built
poorly localized
Ruins
romantic
beautiful ruins
ugly ruins
Ruins
melancholy
like uninhabited houses
ruined buildings
Ruins
natural
or produced
by human insanity
People
souls minds
ruined bodies
Ruins
inner
much more crumbling
of those on the outside

Hair

Black matted hair
juvenile flamboyance
feathers in the wind
silky fluctuating threads
in the time vortex
long raven hair
restless in the night
dreamy evening shadows
may I have a milky kiss?

The poet's room

I gather words
whispered
shooted
forged
by the stars
With them I make garlands
to relieve ancient pains
                    old children
                    ancestral anxieties
the usual torments
to console distant souls
                    tired
                    distracted
I wrap my mind
in soft adjectives
and deliver it to the heart
To escape the specter
of the dark time guardian
incongruous god
hissing in unspeakable darkness
East of nothing
my life is guarded
in the sixth building
temple of wonders
I screen myself from the others
with explosive verbs
difficult to melt
In bartering the universe
for glass beads
I didn't notice God
fatal forgetfulness
I wander in non-existent ways
solver of impossible knots
intangible being
unknown to himself

To the sky

We are climbing
on scales of gods
to catch the highest light
of the temple
Who will understand
unfathomable silences
the existence
The days fell
end caught us
eyes wide open
to the sky
for an impossible answer
Along land meadows
green waves
caress illusions
of new loves
unaware of us
and of the executioner

Don't give up

If I knew how to free
this hand
prisoner of the tongue
this language
prisoner of the mind
this mind
prisoner of the heart
this heart
prisoner of worries
maybe I could free
the message that urges
chained
by the abyss

Fatal

Fate flooded the world with pain
in the absences of the spirit
who was chasing rays of light
through inaccessible universes
Humans bent their heads
predicting arcane auspices
from bleeding hearts
of immaculate virgins
Orgies of screams and blood
needlessly to appease
horrible gods
From the first groan
a trail of madness and terror
persecutes humanity
Nothing understandable
to our reason
Who cares
of a writhing worm
under our feet?

Masks

They have bronze faces
poisonous smiles
Far from real life
from us and from God
They decide for themselves
with cold cynicism
Puppets and puppeteers
they talk only to each other
They sit in parliaments
on the high benches of power
Let's tear off their masks
and celebrate among us
It is the Galois rite
we haven't forgotten it
he has passed this way
and I greeted him
My dear friend
we are always ready
give us the solution
and we will cross the mountains

Évariste Galois (25 October 1811 – 31 May 1832) was a French mathematician and political activist. He died at age 20 from wounds suffered in a duel. The true motives behind the duel are still obscure. For more info see   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Évariste_Galois
In the poem he is taken as an example of those who fight against conformism and homologation imposed by political power.

Homo sapiens

Homo sapiens
remnant of the ancient earth
forever bound to your lairs
of metal and cement
If I think about the origins
nostalgia catches my hands
rough manipulators
Your mind of physical fields
and that heart of yours
really organic
crazy tangle of emotions
Irreparably blind
with your useless symbols
tenderness of beast
elementary spark
how ephemeral

No love

Loving Bitter Love
they are strange visions
rustling of skirts
dreams to caress
Unknown words
of unlived lives

Secrets in the secret
images glimpsed
spells of alchemists
diabolical rose garden
Shining bodies
in quivering souls

Thrills of the mind
ghostly faces far away
signals in the hands
of a fleeting future
Intangible hearts
of uncertain new loves

Silent fantasies
mine yours invented
cautiously veiled
implausible ways
Cathartic evocations
Loving Bitter Love

So that something remains

So that something remains
of each of us
at least a sore word
a brief comment
I extracted from the center of my heart
any secret pain
I spread my mind
on hard paths of sharp stones
to reach each one of you
If living was so difficult
love each other impossible
at least this extreme sacrifice
of blood tears and sweat
soothes even a little
our scattered lives
We left because of an explosion
from the place of our dreams
only it remained an acrid smell
random deaths
and the astonished silence
of a cry

Not a prayer

You who raise a prayer
from your shady and safe haven
beyond the blue texture of that sky
there is no god who can listen to you

I plunge my hands in the dust
in vain searching for other hands
but sharp stones and lifeless bodies
hurt my weak flesh

It is useless to cry or curse
the guardian angels have fled
it's just you and me now
abandoned in the midst of the universe

Moths

Like a song unwinds this life
safe and senseless yet luxuriant
through deserts of words
between agitated dreams
and sudden awakenings

At night she lives in clusters of notes
very pure terminal unconsciousness
beautiful wave and melancholy refrain
rejects the wisdom that is vulgar

In the soft riverbed of dreams laid down
to caress goodbyes never realized
wandering moths in rural cemeteries
in search of a lost vague love

Livings

How many fingers do you have brother?
Maybe you don't have any hands
two eyes a nose a mouth
a color a different shape
an anxious beating heart.
You follow me with your ten children
squawking on the lawn for food
I heard you buzzing around
shouting high in the sky
blathering in the deserts.
Life is equal to itself
with the only mission to live
whatever it is wherever it is
as old as the stars
regardless of good and evil.

Ladmilla's dream

Now that I have found the way of time
I will come back more often here in this house
where you have been young and happy
to see me even in incognito
with the dairy cow in the nearby stable
and you will give me a basket of splendid red apples as usual juicy
then I will leave you with the promise to come back soon
and ask you may I call you grandparents?
And you will answer me with a bright and sure smile!
So losing myself in the used alleys
I will think tomorrow I'll say who I am

The embrace

Meeting streams of life
exchange intense desires for return
piezoelectric stresses release
Like majestic rivers melting together
and at first quiet waves then rear up
tumultuously rippling in triumphant
doodles of candid foam
Listen time runs away
but not this gloomy pain
The silvery sound of the carillon
at the fourth ramp broke
and my exile was decreed forever

Dissonances

Solitudes impossible to reach
they run much more than yours
Solitudes perched on dizzying heights
like ancient castles
Solitudes that slip past you
they live in other dimensions
Solitudes of old warehouses
cluttered with broken paper
Solitudes so affable
you can't perceive them
Solitudes too serious
you can't talk to them
Solitudes so sad
that make you cry
Solitudes of the living
in the presence of the dead
Solitudes you meet daily
piled up to billions
Solitudes of skylights
under an August sun
Solitudes of solitaries
walking for country lanes
Solitudes you would like to love
but you can't 'cause they want to be alone

The man who lived in the future

His machines soared in the skies
crossed the ocean depths
did the work for men
He looked into each person's body and mind
and tried to know of death
He admired the beauty of the forms
in still nature as in livings
He dreamed of a distant future
which has become our present
Perhaps he dared to go even further
but unfathomable silences is an existence
The end caught him wide-eyed in the sky
for an impossible answer
And we will never know

The last tide

In the house in the woods where gathered the stars
the time gate is by now dammed
the last tide extinguished every spark of life
Now it is the nest for candid lonley storks in an aquatic mist
Faith friends love the country
every hope lost
I now live elsewhere in no place
with my court of remote ghosts
in your insane desire of life

Life

How mysterious this Universe is
Where does Life come from?
Are We perhaps luminous dust
born in the incandescent atomic heart
of some distant giant star?
Or maybe Gods lurking in non-human darkness
into their magical laboratories
assembled at the beginning of time
the cosmic egg and threw it into the void
to fertilize at random the worlds?
Too many questions
No answers

Ancient Cathedrals

How many lives passed
within these cold stormy walls
Saints, heroes, murderers, poor people
Everybody looking for something
Now the clamor of the centuries is over
I will await here silently
among this gathering of rustling shadows
that someone tells me about your broken lives
In the middle of that thick scrub
between erased names
faded photographs
where all ambitions end
behind corroded stone writings

Old fashioned

There was a time when the young ladies walked modestly
in their ethereal white garments and floral hats
along the fragrant gardens of those old country houses
With delicate umbrellas to protect
their white cheeks from the blinding sun
It was the time of grace and kindness
of the quiet talk in the slowly flowing time
A mythical age and a regret
Only old fashioned remembrances
like that solitary ancient table

You are

To my eyes you are a shining star
Spark of dawn in the rising sun
At the touch you feel as oriental silk
Burning skin crossing the mind
And you have of a mother the milk scent
Breasts of Love in turgid sternum
My tongue savours wave of sea
Emerald smile in a mouth of salt
Ethereal Song of Ancient Sirens
Pure nostalgic magic hope
My beloved my heart my Candid Bride

Beyond the window

Beyond the window
in this ancient house
that smelly spring
of vanilla flowers
which saw your appearance
purple in the purple
now it is back
Among the camellias and hydrangeas
you are there too
but we no longer are the same
Become frail and bloodless
this overwhelming wave of life
shakes us and leaves exhausted
now inhabitants of the penumbra

Leaving

I should cross those distant bridges of light
navigate on the luminous vessels of the horizon
towards unknown destinations to distant islands
But this is my home
where my love awaits
and the night does not divide
Here the oceanic phosphorus has no dominion
nor are arching the white sails
crooked fantasies of invented stories

Nightmares

The hellish black and yellowish machine
was lurking in the darkness
it mockingly looked at my subtle nightmare
The machine will kill us I feel it
it is waiting for a my smile
we can leave tomorrow you told me floating on my arms
Meanwhile the water rose from the earth
it was a wither shade of green
and it made me suffer from the looming presence
of those twisted copper tubes
I wanted to be still high
on the false cliff of the impossible dive
But I was instead in a distressing dream
in front of the threatening machine
We are my dear cannon fodder
the machine will finally crush us