Words forward

I write and think, the importance of words,
signs without voice on clay tablets, lost
in the desert of time. Small signs as birds
drawn on a white tattered paper, last

thoughts of a peregrine spirit killed
without pity. Words forward sent
by the poor poet standing, thrilled,
pen in hand, smelling soft ink scent.

Letters, syllables, sounds and sentences
exploding, mixing creating new realities
on a long thin shore encircled by distances

made damned deep. Words, freedom keys,
white flags of peace flying over the ashes
of a city. Once alive, now freak circus of fleas.


Ten Modern Commandaments

I-    Don’t paint just burn
II-   Don’t borrow just steal
III-  Don’t sing just lie
IV-  Don’t love just work
V-   Don’t write just bounce
VI-  Don’t breath just drown
VII- Don’t drink just sweat
VIII- Don’t see just do
IX-  Don’t dream just count
X-  Don’t cry is too expensive.

I cannot paint this burning world,
the help I borrow is just a stealing bond.
Here, we cannot sing a gently song, but lie
to kill our lovely friend. We work for war
writing down shocking swears, bouncing
around as swollen balls. I breath, I drown
drinking away this slimy mud, sweating out
my lunatic soul. I cannot see the dawn, I do
my best, I dream for it. I start to count
the cries I hear all over the place.
A leaf, a flower a flying flock
are too expensive for our lonely earth.


Wandering through the foam of my stout

Through the white foam of my stout,
the long horizon shades in thousand
different dreams. Bacchus is there,
his forehead decorate by blood
dark grapes, shakes sweat and worries
off my back. His cheeks are red
as cherry sweet, the tunic tender
as a silky road. Step by step, sip by sip
the mighty Nature embraces us both.
My dear old friend, is this the path?
No train, no trucks
just merry brooks and flying ducks.


Oh Rome!

Oh Rome, magnificent,
the charming light of Callisto
victim of divine revenge
in your ruins reflects herself.
The fine powder of time
as lethal haze, kneels
to your knees oh heavenly lady.

The crumbed pillars stand high
marmoreal corpses
of that glorious past.
From Augustus’s forum
the temple expands and
the sculpture resuscitates,
becoming glorious again.

Oh Rome, magnificent,
what greatness!
what splendour!
Man’s glory
Eternal City,
of eternal beauty,
you, untouched Venus.

Rome, magnificent
what has happen?
I turn, and now?
Darkness and desperation.
Empty is the theater
no audience
and no gladiator.

Heroes, in the arches
anxiously are waiting
pomps and triumphs
Eternal City, of eternal
beauty, today, Venus
raped by Man’s decline,
ruined queen.

You, monument
of Italy, fixed point
for poets and writers,
on your pavements
of limestone and basalt
poems and songs
have found their lungs.

Now, the avenues
are full of wicked rituals,
while whores and fools
are showing their rules.
No more marbles
but moss that poisons
the restless limbs.

In Vesta’s temple
no more shining fire,
the priestesses raped are
burnin’ alive, screaming, dying.
The Harpies, queens of prey
hollowed by hunger
are increasing their number.
Oh Rome, magnificent
where is the graceful child?
The cradle is empty,
the sheets are full of scarlet blood.
Far is the new dawn,
The fragile Golden age,

Oh Rome, magnificent
Which sentence?
Which violence?
Which madness?
made you so pointless
towards the Muses’

Virgil and Lucan,
sons of your womb
ask for Calliope
the voice without age
Titus, Tacitus
orphans of Clio are crying
for the Past, the great Gestes.

Ovid and Catullus
deprived of Euterpe
are dull dumb vagabonds.
Plaututs and Terence
heirs of Melpomene and Talia
are taking part to dreadful
perverse scenes.
Oh  Rome magnificent!
Come back! Remember
the ancient  fame,
the weapons, the loves and brave endeavour! Leave the
gloomy river, rise up
again celebrated Parnassus!

New souls of
glorious breath,
ask for your light
and passion to be restored, New spirits standing alone
want you to renew the love for this wretched country!
Oh dear deaf Italy.


Still I remember the cries of children

Still I remember the cries of children
coming through my open window
the love and life by a criminal eaten,
breaking down the spring songs of swallow.

In the still heavens a wicked raven
mighty and malicious, brings on his wings
a starving death; the ivory skull unshaven,
the sharp, shaped sickle cruelly sings.

Fly! Young mother. Fly! Gentle bird
don’t let the evil messenger slash your breath
your tender future still wait your word

Why, mighty Nature are you so deaf?
the begging oaths, haven’t you heard?
You, unbeatable vampire, despotic death.


The ballad of Elis.

The sky was grey, its breath was strong
The fog was all around.
But, in the maze, I gazed at her.
A lonely pretty girl,

Blue eyes, a long shape and fine hair,
White-pale and silky skin;
she was the moon in the blue sky,
Untouched by any evil sin.

Roaming, I was on a dark path
my road was now ending,
Hideous creatures were after
me, my fate was coming.

My sword was broken, my soul hurt.
There she was: my fair dame
her arms open in a shelter
heated by red hot flame.

Between us, gloomy marshes;
Behind me: the roaring,
angry, fiendish and flaming fierce.
The end was now coming.

My spirit was weak and weary,
My body was as drown.
The winter was coming; hell
was becoming my dawn.

As the wild, fast antelope flees
the powerful lion. Suddenly,
I felt a wide wound slash my flesh.
The pain did dig deeply

and stole my heart. Bleak, black, bane
was my life becoming.
Blind pain as a wicked knife was
my soul overcoming,

My body aches and my heart stops.
Mountains on the horizon stood,
yellow fields full of crops
circled by a golden wood.

Days, years and ages did pass away;
the gently Demeter did welcome
her daughter back so many
times that beards grey did become.

“I am doomed and dead” so I thought.
But, all of a sudden darkness
and pain did fade away.
Life returned to be happiness.

As a baby on mother’s breast
was my body resting
in her gentle arms. A hot stream
of honey was refreshing

My dried lips, her sweet kiss it was.
And so I saw: my maid.
Her tender bright face as if
of pure light was made

brought me back from the ancient past.
The angelic girl with eyes
of pearl, a distant idiom begin to
speak and a new day to rise.

I felt fresh life my body restore,
As the drops of delicate rain
recover the drained plant in a
dry, dead desolate plain.

In a pitch dark cavern we were,
I was bound by vice and sin,
but the lady’s pure hands did give
freedom to my ruined skin.

In the air, the voice of silence
was singing loud, no beast.
Our way was now set free, no more
walls on the road to east.

Since that day just flowers and stars
did rise on our path. Singing
birds were praising our
love in high halls of happiness

an Arcady we found, where
we could thrive our love,
far from tears and, freedom
was our only one law.


Aeolous’ Blow

Fragrant, fragile, paper piece
I Can feel her smell from thee. From the ink she used
the touch of love that reestablishes my peace,
the sound of your voice that joy in my life infused.

As Julia’s hand guided by a fool spirit
tears down Proteus’ letter, your paper in pieces I found.
Horror! Hideous crime my hands did commit
words, letters and sounds are as corpses on the ground.

Fool, I was, just death I deserve
Please, gentle Aeolus help me
don’t be a juggler, don’t disperse

The lovely syllables that she sent to me
But use your blow to restore them, to preserve
their rhymes, to give her love back to me.