(Dedicated to my friend Sharrow Decosta)
Like an arrow you enter my dreams,
this my second life where my soul wants
to be naked and fragile to be
seen without pain nor bad sinful thoughts
On the stage of this theatre we run:
only a moment we meet, then alone
we go back as a ghost among chairs
of a ruined place without life
Soon the curtain will slide down, the scene
will return black and dark as before.
Now we are near and close: hug me, please!
Let the dark feelings out of these doors
Like an arrow you enter my dreams
this my naked soul and all her pains.
See my nude heart here down, on this floor
I feel you into me so deep, Sharrow!
Second Life, Kessler, 19th May, 2017
Anemone nemorosa in wood. JB, 2017.
This silly spring song is dedicated to Angel Morning
Almost spring, sunny day, winter goes
in the grey velvet of each past times.
Under young woods the anemone's light
is the breath of the new life that cries
White and pure, fresh and lovely
you start dancing cute and lonely
Each tear drop that falls from the sky
like the kiss of dew on morning grass
recalls me that each thing must fast run
toward cold places; I always ask "Why?"
White and pure, you are so lively.
When you dance I grow sad, lonely
When the sunlight becomes low and shy
as at the sunset, when the mist wins,
leading me though me toward black nights,
I am a shiver that seeks my Love's eyes
White is your soul, I am ugly
like a savage herb, a pussly
Sin and death are deep in me: a fight.
As in a dream I saw you this morning
dancing alone in the wood clearing.
You are anemone light, fresh and white
Without thoughts of sin, lovely
you dance cool. I look at you freely
Second Life, Elven Forest, March, 11th 2017
Thank you to my dear friend BC for his suggestion to my bad english
pic from here
A crucible of many clichés
dissolves me and I foolishly agree
as dull people who aim to be accepted.
So I too am perverting the words
The emotion stirs up any instinct
without producing reasons but cravings.
In the gloomy molasses of cheating
I am what I want be: only a bubble
I can see the evil spread in the world,
I am into it, part of it too.
The sense market alters me, as
when tobacco turns in smoke: poison
As a prostitute, I resell thinking,
while I’m mixing banal whim drives
with poor aims to be free: only dreams
Yes: each bee deeply hides only a wasp
February, 16th 2017
Thank you Leda: without you this text, like other stuffs of mine, would be less correct as grammar…
(a joke with Melissa)
That morning I entered the chat and saw Melissa, never seen before nor after.
I was alone in my home, waked up a little before.
She said me something using this word: “cozy”, so i learned it. I also liked this new word.
Velvet dark is the night
like soft sheet, cozy bed
in which dreams can go on
Cozy thoughts come to me
while the sunshine begins
touching warm sheets you left
fog and frost win the day.
Come back here cozy Love
I need your skin and lips
SL, Corchalo, December, 12th 2016
Mitla at the door of the cave, in the Land of Arda
I entered the chat at the morning while She was saying bye the go to sleep, at the other side of the world…
As cold tears anywhere
the fog darkness hard hugs everyone,
kisses nude skin and lips
while I’m waiting for news.
Then and soon
a mad rush as the sun light hot strikes,
breaks each dream in my eyes, calls me to
my such grey, usual life.
I wake up, you go sleeping …
in a dream, maybe we
SL, Elven Forest chat, December, 10th 2016
picture by Marcela Bolivar
(Dedicated to LedaEuropa)
(The girl) The girl lies on the fresh and soft grass
near the beach, where she feels all the life
of the sea as a swelling, and seagulls.
The warm sun soon will caress her skin
(Leda) There a sudden weird love, as a swan
enters her, as a flabby white cloud,
and rapes her slipping his long strong neck
everywhere, like a lustful long snake
The dawn brushes the girl body now
with its yellow and pale grazing light
and the sea breeze takes to her the waves
as some delicate, far, moving whispers
Leda is both a dream, promise and flesh;
she is betrayed by that pagan sky
like all: Danae, Europa, Io, many ...
like each woman who pays live the world
August, 21st 2016
My big evil grows hard alike maize
suddenly and so fills all my field
during the dry and warm summer times.
All my grass raves about damp soft soil
Ghosts of flowers and desert white lights,
empty ambitions of upset dreams, chords,
leave as sediment blankets of sleep.
Every day now turns into straw tones
June, 22th 2016