JB our nativity scene
Give me reward again in the night
when it’s dark and I hug you and my skin
waits for you like a poor parched pool
to find peace at least for only an instant
Making love, tremors fill all my flesh
shaking it in my chest, belly and
everywhere. So, I burn, sacrifice
to that life really mattering, true
Give me you, all you and not just some:
give me your hands and mouth. Your mind
be with me only one, only substance
to show that I can truly exist
Take me quite as I am, take my evil
and the good which I can: it’s so little.
I am as a well, hole, a basin, pool
restless and edgy shorn of its fullness
Give me your eyes and thus let me see
where you look at the end of each thing,
there where all starts and all can begin,
there where lives God who made us alive
Let I can grow again and hold up
this my body and my spirit, tired
after years of great sloth and great pride.
On my knees, near the crib, each thing is
December, 13th 2021
JB, yesterday, after we made our nativity scene
I’m that one who now sleeps on the grass
near the heat of the fire freeing our
body and mind from cold thoughts
where so often each one can get lost
Both a shepherd or woman, doesn’t matter
we are the same deep down in our Mankind
strange and fickle and now very tired
fighting between emotions and reason
I’m that one and he sleeps near the warmth
of all common and usual safe things
I sleep while all the universe changes
while light and its true sense is being born
They say that the crib is from Benino’s (*)
dream and that he sees all our Earth
change its shape and substance and essence
up to be like a new paradise
Yet I’m that one who sleeps: I’m distracted
by my standard and permanent sloth
or by a sudden one that can reach
me just here while each thing resurrects
If You want, take me out from these weird
shadow days chasing gloomy solstices
while this cold rules all my queer odd world:
I’ll become what I am: only answer
December, 11th 2021
* Benino is a character of the Neapolitan nativity scene: he is the sleeper.
This is from my 2020 nativity scene
Now He comes. He will come. He is coming.
Oh! He is here.
He is everything I need, everything each of us needs.
He wants to be everything for everybody.
He is so, really so, really now, yet we are blind.
I ask him that my heart could know what my reason already knows, so that I culd live in peace.
I ask that also for my friends.
Merry Holy Christmas.
Giotto: The Nativity in the Scrovegni Chapel, Padua
pic from here
It’s so silent and strange without snow
without laughs and surprised children eyes
in this bad alien world that I know
For the first time I’ll be at my home
at my so usual home, nearly alone
like a day among days. Normal days
Maybe next Christmas will be the same
like all my past ones: a special day
exquisite food and wines in that house
where I lived so much before now
Maybe this virus forces to watch
at this birthday for what really it’s
not all that opulence we can have
but the day when the Saint saves all us
Gloria in excelsis Deo: Christ soon comes
December, 20th 2020
I’m sorry… I was not able to post this stuff last week end, as usual …
Fog erases each thing with its nothing
made by silence and moisture and grey
along a way that leads to new Christmas
to new facts, to new hopes, to new life
I drive my car and I look for trees,
for signs or something that have a sense
anything I can see, recognize
to solve troubles and doubts, to go on
I miss white and pure snow in this cold
of an alien, strange winter, unknown.
Out some virus is spreading pain, death
Come soon my Lord with your holy kingdom
December, 14th 2020
Well … it’s Christmas.
Some days ago, my dear friend Kristine shared me a strange song. I thought that I’ll used my frienship for Kristine, what I think about her deepest emotions and wishes, and some words of that song to write my 2019 Christmas wishes. I did so. Thank you Kristine. Be happy like I am. God is born. God came and comes in our so poor flesh!
These are my best wishes for next Holy Christmas.
Now I’ve into my mind and into my ears a sweet and peaceful music: John Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 147 “Jesus meine Freude” (Jesu, joy of man’s desiring).
I’ve into my deep all my darkness and all the night where i was on this Advent.
I wish Jesus be born. I know Jesus is born. I wish His light, His peace, His joy.
I wish all these good things also for all you.
Jesus, I need You
by Judy Barton on Christmas, 2019
When fog hides
any idea of each way
I’m alone into grey, where I stay
There no answer responds to my why
I’m my need, I don’t feed
my pale soul nor my mind.
I’m as hole
where I can’t see my joy.
I’m a homeless old bitch
I’m grass frost under birches
When each Sunday
stops to be the Lord’s day
I’m alone in a night without rest
there’s no one that responds to my why
You are my need, feed
my pale soul and my mind.
You fill my hole
bringing me peace and joy.
Be born and be my home: then I’ll switch
to green grass under birches
December, 20th-24th 2019
JB, December 2019
Shadow cups pour oppression tonight
covering both sky and all the world
early and squeeze my heart: it’s request
yet worn out due to abstinence from sense and truth
Amber cup of an old rancid oil
is my mind because always distracted
by somewhere else that avoids true life
so I fish for confused souvenirs
Shadows cup pours itself on the world
that wants no my God, that digests us
as a black monster blob made of anger.
I’m still looking for You, Baby Child
December, 9th 2019
Art by Terrygold – “Terry – Riflessi sul nero n.17_001”
So my hands punish harshly my pride
chasing thoughts and sin where my effort
falls helplessly, tonight, dying silently,
lost in cold nothingness everywhere
I’m not able, I can’t by myself
I can’t avoid to fall more and more:
that’s disease of our being few things,
as men or women: as each creature
We are falling down, into the solstice
full of pagan memories and impulse.
I deny you for perverse desires
but You come anyway, Child and God
December, 1st 2019
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
Sometime my life is a crazy dream
where I see me so different from
myself as I am really, here,
while my days run forward I don’t know
Often I live into ill bad dreams
where my thoughts take up place of real things
and I try to be better with masks
indeed tributes to my narcissism
I would be better, I should be free
from my silly, so bad and false dreams.
I know whom I should be to be free.
Come soon, O Bone Jesu. Take me
November, 20th 2019