Category: Poems
Paris, no words
I deeply sorry for this city I love.
I wanted to write, to write a lot.
I wanted to speak about people like me,
and about the cowards who took their lives.
I wanted to write about the discomfort
that one can feel now in a big city
upon hearing the minimum noise.
I wanted to speak about the West
and its ability
to generates its own enemies.
I wanted to write, to write a lot.
A river of words about all,
about people I knew, even if barely,
about people who are now gone.
I prefer to be quiet,
at least for this time,
and let the world cry its children.
In Photo “Peace for Paris” by Jean Julien
If you still don’t know who you are (a river)
If you still do not know who you are, repeat inside yourself:
There is no problem.
You are the one who has seen the mountains themselves being created
And what are you looking at right now is just the unfolding of their lives,
in the flow of the river called Self.
But the day will come when you will understand
Why this river was there.
Its flow has moved the debris a little, and in the midst of it
It donated some beautiful emotions
Helping to move the wheel of life a little.
The rest does not matter.
It does not matter whether that river was long, or large, or zigzag.
What matters for the Ocean is that the river
had returned home.
Male
Yes I am male and I am fragile.
If I want i slit mountains and I arrive on foot in Kazakhstan.
Yet behind my zest hero there is a needy heart.
Needy of you and of your love which the more I give you, the more it heightens.
Hence call me a man, call me a male and remember that they portray us badly on TV.
We are not all assholes, We make mistakes, yes, but trust me, we know how to love.
Tell me about yourself
Come here and tell me about yourself.
Show me yourself as fragile as you are
and without any fence between the two of us.
As you come to me like this and you watch me,
with those sweet hazel eyes,
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I cannot recall those dumb promises of an ego
whish throws me images of myself like a scream
which resonates in empty hears.
The real me knows it well,
that I cannot listen to that heavy voice no more
if I don’t want to drawn in the abyss of myself.
But when you are around
I don’t need no memories nor promises
and even a name is too much to bear.
So, my love, if under this moonlight you’ll read my words,
know that we are already near,
and not even for an instant have we been far away.
Time and space are just a cosmic joke,
to force us to discover ourselves once more,
hence you do not believe them too much, but if you can come here
and laugh, laugh right here with me.
Just A Dance (!)
Will it be you filling my day with hope?
Will it be you giving me the emotion that my heart so much craves?
Inside I just feel one Godly song,
and if you wish, my love, together we’ll dance its every step.
This anger, this joy
As this Anger comes and bites me,
I just stay here and watch it.
I observe it coming up in my hands,
as it screams inside, like a crazy echo.
Yet, after a while, as everything, it goes.
It returns back to those gloom bushes which I myself ignore,
but which I feel being present, and always lurking.
What remains is for me like a sudden joy
which cares no more of scanning the world through judging lenses.
This feeling simply accepts what it is for what it is
and it doesn’t strive for what is here anymore.
Flowers of peace
Flowers of peace are within me.
Their seeds had fallen on land
arid, rocky and sloping.
Had you seen them then
you would not give them the smallest hope.
Yet they, in their pure naivety, made their way
quenching their thirst with divine water
and now unmistakably hover their silent scent.
Happiness
Happiness is how I am called
’cause this is the name that you gave to me.
With your looks, breaths and words
You’ve printed it forever under my skin.
Now I carry it proudly
to show the world that this name
is the promise why we’re here.
A dumb hunter
If you talk to me and I flee,
please don’t hate me, just don’t hate me.
If you look at my eyes and they look elsewhere,
please don’t hate me, just don’t hate me.
If I shrink in my den thinking of you,
please don’t hate me, just don’t hate me.
I’m just a dumb poet of life
hunting for words to tell you I love you.
Photo from: http://www.baronerosso.it/forum/discussioni-off-topic/197400-ce-qualche-arciere-3.html
Funeral of identities
Another day, another funeral,
One for each name that I wore.
Saint, sinner, hero and bastard,
Rare stone and rough stone,
Lover, love, and disown.
No sound, time nor colour,
Can really stick over me
And each of them will burn in the fire of truth.
‘Cause my self is like the mill wheel,
which ground the flour, returns the water to the river.
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