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