Another birthday

From the The seventh seal, by Ingmar Bergman

The time’s torment is like a deep carving
in the cruel reflection of mirrors,
it’s a spit on the glass and it steams up
every clear cut view of real world

The time falling is sunset, my time;
each mistake I did sits on a pile
of dumb cues now lost far in the past
and I worry about remaining days

The time sunset is like a ship stranded
where dreams crush and stub out and the eyes
wake-up to the nothing that haunts
my end and both the end of the world

March, around 14th 2018

Italian version


Pale light

Another beautiful pic from Leaf and twig


Pale light gives me the sun in this day
made by orange and red in the woods
and by yellow too, when each leaf knows
that soon will be down dead in the mud

I enjoy this pale light of the sun
when so gorgeous each leaf gives me fire
in the woods dressed themselves with light.
There will be soon new life from the mud

Eros, thanatos, much more each day
I can see watching at this strange world.
My faith must help me during a life
that I cannot see only as beasts do


October, 26th 2017

Italian version

Here, the Hell

Here we are, as a part of a gear
that is pain made by pain
girls and women we were and now fear

     Winter days give us shivers
     in this wasteland which quivers
     in this ourselves made hell
     where no one can breathe well

Frozen chains bound the hearts and cold rain
like old blood wets the buds
of black plants on the ground to a drain

     Winter ways and the figures
     of this wasteland which quivers
     lead us to this foul hell
     where I hear that death knell

Life to death again: that is the flood.
Sisters moan among whispers
that strike our ears as can do a stud

     Winter boys give us shivers
     in this wasteland which quivers
     in this themselves made hell
     where they grow rude and swell

Now the life changed and it's a whipper:
red wounds filled my skin and my soul
and my tears grow so much… as a river

September, 16th 2017

Italian version


Before the time die

Photo by JB, 2017


Before the time die
rolling so fast each instant to the next
till it wastes itself and my green
become like straw far-back dried out

Before the time go over
like each thing in a breath of nothing,
as the light in the evening, when the night
leads everyone to moan about the Absence

Before the time die
hiding me and each thing in a distant past,
like an instant born already old
and so something grab me when I’m upset

Until my time begin as new flower
true yet elsewhere, eternal, as promised
I want to be for you love but so honest,
love that seek in you God, way and meaning


July, 18th 2017


Italian version


The photography


From those papers your face
and no lost souvenirs of a time
when a sense held up everything
and you were both a shelter and aid

Where are you looking at?
Is your day near or far?
Your eyes are focusing beyond us
staring at the last threshold of your
world that you, that’s for sure, there you saw

Years have passed but the absence does not.
You come back in the nights, in my dreams
and we talk and it’s usual.
Then I wake up, I see me, I miss you


March, 21st 2017

Italian version


Corpus Domini

Pic found here


This my present is maybe described
using runes, so I can’t find its key
hidden into such alien strange seasons
full of mystery, dryness and shadows

Algorithms made by an abstract coldness,
betray each our human awareness,
liquefy any real essentials
and give up themselves to bestial instincts

Deviant morals gain day by day death
while our reason is pray of deep sleep
and so wavers and more monsters come.
Everything is due, claimed possession

The reality lies low as dream,
a delirium of insipid wishes.
Violence is so a normal thing
everywhere: echo and terrible scream

we shuffle around as in slippers:
only pale and blind shades
of those who lost their role in the world.
My Church seems also a joke

I’m a jump of acrobatic cripple
and pretend and hold me toward nothing
while each thing falls down all around here.
Make us real, me too. Give me sense


June, 27th 2017

Italian version


Today they kill him

Today they kill him.
The State kills him.

Angel of God,
my guardian dear,
to whom God's love commits me here,
ever this day,
be at my side
to light and guard,
to rule and guide.

Meet Charlie Gard