JB, March 2020
Now magnolia goes too far with life
exhibiting unlikely pink glitz.
Ancient flowers unclose to the world
in the garden awakening from sleep
We do not, we’re contracted, we’re suspect
to each other, avoiding disease.
Grass and blackbirds do not become ill
while get drunk under warmth of young sun
March, 13th 2020
Photo by Cherry Laithang
I’d wish tenderness, warmth
like soft flesh of a woman surrendering
moved as helpless gift.
My heart wanders at night, lost somewhere
This darkness devours and swallows
every passion, emotion and beauty.
Far away, far away I run into ill dreams
really to be not here. Please come soon
November, 30th 2019
JB 2019, that day
Sudden downpour breaks clouds below us,
where Ayas Valley opens itself
widening its green far to the east
where Elina is kissed by wind
There I climbed for my so young years
among rock ruins, boulders and screes
to find myself, beyond any path
footed by crowd, beyond summer rules
I was looking for huge solitudes
on the peak where I placed a cross.
Then I missed you, soon, so nostalgia
made me run back to your tight hugs
Here we are, quite in front of that mountain
in the clear sky above the dark rain.
We are in peace and enjoy this last day
of vacation. Our gaze goes on far
August, 30th 2019
Take care, my friend.
I don’t know if a veil
can be a lie, can be a jail
hiding and trapping well
what I am in my hell
I need what I don’t know
maybe love, maybe more
I’m alone in this world
I’m my rain falling down
I would like sing nice words
free my soul, fly as bird
yet that red purple moth
seems a wound on my mouth
I shake my body hard
with no sense. I move hands
like a child with no dad.
Pain is my name so far
I don’t know, maybe a veil
can be a lie or a jail…
My mask falls down to earth
I show you now my heart
October, 1st 2019
JB, that night
Ancient square grey stones tell us dark stories
about power and passions and fights.
The austere building, that stole popes from Rome
at that time, seems invincible, immense
Narrow crosses draw black and strange carvings
from where I imagine shooting arrows
down to square and those people, to tourists,
that are pale shadows of splendid people
Where the hell did those strong people go,
they who raised you with each cathedral,
which was Europe salvation that time?
Solitude freezes now all my bones
Palais des Papes, Avignon,
April, 22nd 2019
You can find here more informations about this holiday.
A photo of mine, 2019
In that chatroom, her nickname was Desert Rose.
A stone rose
As crust plasters
With bronze thoughts
burnt dead seas
And of thoughts
throughout the time
And of colours
in chalk frozen
A stone rose
A mIRC chatroom, 2005
Judy is entering a sphere
My friend Terry built a new art expo based on ten spheres in which several artists made their works. Each sphere is as little world and it is possible enter them. The opening of this expo will be on next September, 14th 2018.
In my worse silly mode I wrote this stuff about it.
What’s a sphere? an austere
cry to show we are alive,
a small box, often block
trapping smiles in this rock
What’s your sphere? A mystère
you don’t know, when sincere
look at your bloody heart
waiting for a restart
In my sphere I’m asleep
sad and bad and I creep
toward black hole that eats
what I want in my deep
Into a sphere we all live
without sky, love and light
as poor things that deprive
themselves of any fire
SL, Casvian Caye, September, 8th 2018
Photo by JB, 2018
Yellow straw tells me old story
about seasons and work, about fruits
Now it dries at the sun, useless, dead
tired gold poured down on the fields
You cut straws for me once, in my prime,
inside mature wheat stem, in the summer,
you told me about butterflies, bees
leading so my young life to its bloom
Now I am in the evening of days,
as sail broken by slaps of bad wind.
I know that you are alive and you are better
yet I wish here your strength, your strong hand
July, 4th 2018
I need silence
I need time
to sink watches
I need time
to stop time
I seek thoughts
to kill thoughts.
only empty bad thoughts
I find evil
the evil I am.
I was selfish and cruel
I need silence and cold
to freeze fantasies
So the emotions
can turn themselves to ice.
I need glasses
to see better me
I need ice glasses to
freeze my heart
Bye for now
bye dear friend
January, 30th 2018
as a life without sense
way not useful to go further, there,
ghost of roads on which nobody walks
it’s a badly made building,
yet a symbol of selfish to be
so each the other cannot ever meet.
Modern torture is cutting connections
We are alone in this poor darkness’ life
October, 29th 2017