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THE WIND AS A LAMENT

Sono solo una piccola traccia nell’aria

non sono niente che importi

In questo silenzio mi pare di sentire

solo il vento che si lamenta

Il buio che mi inghiotte

anche se chiudo gli occhi

questo buio non mi lascia tregua

Si diverte a farsi sempre più Black

I let myself drift

not resist

Until I get myself " lament "

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Tell me a poem

Something is lost

you close a window and my skin is moving.

now has another pace and leaves no beats.
The heart is dark and static breath holds

to avoid being eaten at all.

March 21: World Poetry Day .

Tell me a poem.

[photo by * Sayra ]

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Charmante Tamara

De Lempicka, of course. Of those women and spectacular absolute, to devour men and minds. Beautiful, charming, outrageous and painfully divine. Painter of plastic shapes, colors that are mass, density, body and dazzling charm. Cloths that glide like shadows and shimmer of fluids, the sensuality of a woman loves pink coral, flowers and faces that lie just too soft or afrranti. Tamara behind a veil with eyes that follow from a diva who knows how to shatter the world once after another. I watch and I know that I would look darling as, in fact, I love it.

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LET ME SLEEP

Small Little Bubbleon My Face

enjoy

I'd like to fly

in this silence enveloping

heading towards the end

I stop for a moment before

breathing slows to a stop

I see myself as my face is inexplicably shadow

and only when I finally close

see it for what it is

I let 's so close I hate to love

I leave everything and go out

's so I want it to end

I enjoyed enough of this life

and now in this life

I just want to enjoy myself over

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a book, because Tiffany

repetitive. Even a bit 'boring. I admit it. But reading, for me, you enjoy life. Meanwhile, the crooked tower dei miei libri continua a crescere, infatti si è riprodotta divenendo doppia. Ma non importa. Devo ricerverne almeno altri due ma vorrei poterne avere accanto altri mille. Per questo vi chiedo di dirmi un libro e un perché. Perché ogni libro raccoglie almeno un perché. Un motivo eccellente e magicamente importante per cui io, o chiunque altro, dovrebbe leggerlo. Ditemi un libro e il vostro perché. Sarà interessante conoscerli.

[foto by Darcloak ]

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stunned .. .. .. confused disoriented ..

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Tiffany era una cavalla. Ha preso parte ad un Palio, quello di Ronciglione, Viterbo. L'asfalto (!) su cui correva Tiffany was wet and crashed violently against the guards. The metal was cut on the chest. E 'fall to the ground in agony. For a while it is contracted for the suffering and then died. Without a reason, without respect. He had to entertain men, Tiffany. Dava show. "Because it's tradition," they say. I do not see nothing but barbarism insignificant. I see them everywhere animals are "used" for the amusement of the bipedal human. I would like to abolish this kind of events (and more). Nobody needs and are useless. History can be upheld even without torture and kill animals.

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The shadow memory

La memoria cammina tra i vicoli di un'eterna città, lastricati di antichi rancori. Si sofferma sugli occhi di foto ingiallite insieme all'orrore che bacia lustrini intinti nel sangue. Madonne e battesimi di fuoco raccontano di muri riaffrescati di bianco scintillante e dell'abuso nascosto del Potere che non ingiallisce. Gli uomini sono avvolti da misteri, che potrebbero sciogliersi come lacci se si potesse scorrere tra le strade della loro memoria. Ogni rifiuto, ogni pesante respiro dell anima si incastona perfettamente in un angolo delle sue strade. Puoi girarci intorno, essere distratto da vie più assolate, o semplicemente più chete, ma è lì. Ci passerai accanto e ti sembrerà quasi splendido remember the simple blink of an eye, a smell, a moment lost in the ceaseless becoming. In one day penetrate many memories in our minds and come together for a picture? How many people we can control and those who rebel and betray our thinking? We could try to count them and we would be shocked to know that we live more than memories of this life. Memory is a bell'amante that it takes more than it gives, it is illegal not to know, whenever you decide you want to seduce, play with our consciousness and we play with her.

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The slaughter of cows in the mirror

We smile at this

RobediKappa beef. Blissfully unaware that a copy of his sister placed on the blue line of the lake. We, the sun and a dusting of wind. We have buried a small village back there. We find some wall that protrudes heroic, washed, ready to disappear once they decide to resume the water quota. The man on the phone system affaracci some of his words or worse. Viewing who laugh at him fishing. It 's a clear day, even inside. This is why I am so well.

[photo by mia_euridice 12.03.2011]

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Closed for hibernation

Stop. I fall into lethargy. For a few weeks. I could wake up in May. No one would notice the difference. Neither do I. I would just less tired now. Time of mange and inefficiency, this. Than accumulate as trash by the side of each day. I lose my actions and reactions, consuming cells without any benefit. I dissolve in certain silences radio off, between the flash lamp and a heartfelt film of a disheveled sunset just lighter than yesterday. There is time and no life. And that's just time.

[photo by Spinewinder ]

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The wind roses


Look who's knocking at the door will be the usual nuisance of Sunday
But no, you do not move very well
What are you on me

Twenty minutes of love and hear on television
I want this economy, or you want another coffee
You said you can not, then you're here with me
And one day the sky will open
And I tell you You are
another illusion
But until then let me live so
unconsciousness now
of who confuses the wind roses
Jura, or maybe it's better not
will yet another new desire in this life my
Between us a bed and a coffee
Maybe tomorrow if you can
And one day the sky will open
And I tell you You are the usual illusion

But until then let me live like
unconsciousness now
of who confuses sex with love
But until then let me live so
unconsciousness now
of who confuses the wind roses
Look who's knocking on the door

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The Black Swan - Darren Aronofsky

The white and black. Good and evil. Love and hate. The perfection and destruction. Duplicity radiating fear and euphoria. It exists because there is its opposite. The consciousness that plays with herself until deceive. A film bright and cruel, obsessions turn into excess, one way or another. Lying in which the mind takes refuge for not uncovering the horror, that the soul builds excuse to avoid being destroyed by its own power. Construction of a beautiful nightmare, which is what we fear most because it might look like.

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THE END ALL THE TRAVEL

While the mind rests on some Part

I can not let stand the thoughts
they think of you every time

Having a sense for how to escape from time

you touch, you acknowledge and embrace every moment

Oltremestesso I'm listening and I think nothing

I understand that at this time yesterday over

that you are present even though everything seems to have no essence

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Crowds Wait

The madman is the man for excellence living elsewhere remain on this earth.
Intoxicated by the passage of time without suffering the blows of 'experience and living free in their own way of seeing things, it finds its rightful place in an imperfect world, but livable. is difficult to describe the actual boundaries of elsewhere, the contours of the sky of the crowds, which are based on a thin invisible sparks. A deafening bang confuses colors and thoughts. Them through the chaos into order, from invisible to visible and the sounds they no longer have need of meaning. Those small daily habits bind him to the little human being that is physically in one place and feel everywhere at the same time. What the body does the mind can achieve it. Each of us has his unpredictable crowds within.

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and the desire to communicate, to feel in qlk so close and not forgotten .. I will never forget you, I still desire to stay in your arms, to look into your eyes and see you happy, unfortunately I do not think it will be possible.

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Equilibrium imbalances

Arrese and pretensions, but it goes. There are balances that, from whatever angle you look at them, are imbalances. Yet they hold. How about wireless fiber, on platforms such as lopsided. Hang permanently in the air, crumbling between exhaustion and phrases cut off, tipping the scales now from one side and then the other. The weather does not improve but they are even stronger, as raw material and plastic deformed. Adaptable and senseless. Still you wonder how it is possible, knowing that he could not find answers.

[photo by LuGiais ]

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I want to take a trip with someone who does not know

The I want to bring in a country that knows no

On the trip I will say that will not run: it can see the beautiful things around him

tell me not to see the road but to watch her

In the silence speak for as long el'ascolterò

The watch that and then look m'illuderò both my

tell us that we have swallowed the tears and still bruciano

Ci racconteremo che Il tempo tra i suoi nodi crudeli avvolge ogni sogno lo deforma e lo trasforma, ne fa ricordi e solo ogni tanto un finto rimpianto

Viviamo ora questo momento, anche se dopo potrà far piangere il ricordo

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NOTHING SEEMS YOU GET

Mentre cammino per cercarti  

la vita perde contatto

la mia presenza scorre a gocce

facendomi dimenticare come sono passato

attraverso this world

Stealing time to time without hours and days without

Then I saw you in a minute as the illusion lasted

I lived and I loved you in a moment

This is what I will wait

the dream or your dream, ask me

Mount And Blade Blue And Grey

not possible for me to run to meet you because subisco the unusual effects of gravity

With force surplus and government surplus, while I leave behind all the weight of humanity

I do not despair if you do not reach because we do not need to talk, you know my heart, I yours.

I do not need to rush to get to you, but I would get there before me

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I forget what I write

Non scrivo per dimenticare. Anche perché quel che non mi serve lo dimentico comunque. Ma dimentico ciò che scrivo. E mi sorprende ritrovarlo nella memoria di chi passa e legge. E vado anche oltre perché spesso distruggo senza troppo ritegno. Sono un demiurgo un po' folle, non lo nego. Ho perso milioni di parole ma non mi mancano. Hanno avuto vita e, come tutti i vivi, sono morte. O sono semplicemente sprofondate in qualche abisso oleoso e dorato che forse, prima o poi e senza rendermente conto, tornerò ad esplorare.

[ post ispirato da Veil - foto by autum-fire ]

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I miss
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between the beam and the mote

In these times of low inspiration, I am inspired too little. A cap, a word, asceticism or a crust. The extrapolation of a series of straws that come to pull out of my eyes does not surprise me that much. They are shortsighted, you know? And I see no tubes without lenses. But then, for mere malice or retaliation, I threw on the beam that you pretend not to see. Then whispers and think that maybe a dignified retreat is something very Acconcia. Now they come across a joke and left her there to pick up common sense.

[photo by AForAdultery ]

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... ... DO IT NOW AND THEN

not remember if we never said goodbye

do not even remember how started and if there ever was a beginning

Do not you remember me and we

not remember the evil that I've done and you can not remember if I did

not remember the love ...

not I remember I told you goodbye

If you ever wanted to silence speak for me

"Goodbye, now, today and forever!"

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All will '

seems to know a life

but in this life I know I have not met

and if one day to see you and do not know you from a life

means that my suffering will end

and perhaps end, even your

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Gabbiani I wanted to make the Coliseum

I leave the subway. And once there, full of all its colossal grandeur, the Colosseum. String spaceship, lights, shadows and hordes of tourists set out to conquer the Martians-immortal picture. A quirky star wheel, however, attracts my eyes. S'accompagna to cries that resemble those of a jarring and grotesque mishap. Seagulls? Gulls at the Coliseum? " Yes, ..." I say. They are everywhere. And I expect that I, in Rome, of banal gray crows!

[photo by mia_euridice]

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there is no bad thing to wake up one morning and think "what if .."
better to be repented of a choice than to live in doubt of what would have happened if you had the courage.

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I miss you so much, I have found you in my bed to take refuge in your embrace.

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hermit

The best ideas always come to me in the morning. Just woke up. O just before waking. In short, in the region space-time-read that I can not tell. As the title of this post. Which is true. The hermit was a perfect profession for me. But where are the contemporary retreats? Gorges, caves and hovels. The Saints have dug them visionaries or searched the mountains and ravines. I'm too lazy. So I built the shrine to me in my head and I put it following the beginning of my sparkling inconsumabile misandry.

[photo by Orzz ]

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the cold I remember your warm hugs and the feeling that nothing in them and no one was hurt.

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Dies irae

One after another, will fall. A domino ruthless and tragic in that strip of Mediterranean Africa licked by a purple and too close. It 'ran out of time fathers' meek and silent. We are just tired of children to look like nothing, unhappy and impatient of restraint to engulf the world. The speed is the same as a web of wicked and angry cries. Emulation, in fact, land and air strikes. Approaches and sweeps away because it will lead to momentous changes. It will cost much more blood.

[photo by carved ]

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I missed too many things, I have not forgotten but are still on my way.
Did I not tell you enough how I want, I never said I want to be your breathing, your sleep, your melancholy. Wait, there will still be somewhere else, we can be lulled by the wind slowly consumes us all into the fire of our kisses, as a single burn.
Now what remains is our eyes, light for the world, for us as a deep abisso.Ti wait for my life, where we have to start over interrupted. 'll Wait for your smile still picture of red my emotions in quick time.

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Freaky Eaters of Caravaggio

man of excesses. If one is a genius, however, he is forgiving. And if we bring the middle ages, the rehabilitation is complete. Michelangelo Merisi was a bit 'crazy and even violent. Complaints, depositions, court and sentenced to death to prove it. In the pending handwriting and faded old documents that only now has anyone had the good sense to go and study. Missing a few years of life, now. And you have no idea what I ever did this wicked and shameless painter. It takes a mockery of the living. Again.

[photo by mia_euridice: Caravaggio, Portrait Paul V, 1605 - detail]

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books

A frame of books. Read and read. They come because I can not help it. We also try not to buy but they are stronger. I obliged, by dint of prohibitions or reproaches. Then I meet a library, and I say "Just take a look ..." and I go out at least another book. Maybe less substantial, perhaps less expensive. Another. The support of those waiting on the tower. Sooner or later I will read everything, love that not left me yet. They are my life and my food even if someone keeps repeating that you do not eat.

[photo by siddhartha19 ]