Black fires

Picture from here


I remember your eyes as two fires
even if black as black was the cape
that hid everywhere your face and the body
years ago, there, in the underground train

You seemed proud and contemptuous about
myself and all my so perverse world
too much free or perhaps I hurt you
staring at your so lovely eyes

You were Arab, maybe, anyway
from another world; you seemed me
really beautiful, so upright and sure
to be better than us, flabby and weak

I don’t know when I saw you, the year
when we met on that train, far in time.
In those days we had no fear or suspicion
about evil intention by Islam

Then the towers, the wars and the crazy
attacks made by your people … by you?
Our planet was wide at that time
now each thing changes and the Earth is so small


January, 16th 2018

Italian version


I need silence

JB, 2013


I need silence
and cold.

I need time
to sink watches
I need time
to stop time
I seek thoughts
to kill thoughts.

I find
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
to survive
Bye for now
bye dear friend


January, 30th 2018

Avatar’s dew

I found this photo here


Ok: that so dear friend told me something about another meaning of the word “dew” in Japanese language.
I wrote this stuff for that friend …


You were smile of the dew
upon green winter grass
You were light happy rain
in my spring among nights

You were dream in my life
that runs fast toward death.
That’s my sin: to be there
empty mask withouth flesh


February, 1st 2018


On the radio – A photo by Karma Weymann

On the radio, work by Karma Weymann


She is lost in a sad radio sound
lovely girl, young pale skin without shame
maybe thinking at something as blame
maybe waiting for someone as bound

She is lost in a past radio sound
looking at somewhere, when she had claim
to be happy, alive, when her aim
was to be owned, taken, so wound

She is lost in a love as a bound
stockings are as red passion, as flame
her chest needs to be handled: the frame
of a lost true big love never found

I am lost in a sweet dream, a song
from the past, lovely friend with no shame,
I am thinking to you as a flame.
We could think to be love, to be bound

We were lost in a sad radio sound.
I could not more be lie in a frame
where now each thing is changing to pain.
I want that you be happy and not wrong


SL, Blacklabel Exhibition, January, 27-28th 2018


To my poor friend


I’m not able to work today. I always control my mail and your blog.
My soul is emplty, full of fog.
My eyes are wet.
My heart is somewhere, lost, painful.

I was so selfish and so cruel to you: I was your evil. I knew it.
I did it anyhow.
In my language, it’s a mortal sin.
I built your evil. I hurt you.
Let me dedicate to you this song by Vasco Rossi, sang by Fiorella Mannoia.


That’s my bad translation of the lyric.

Sally walks on the street even without
looking at the ground
Sally is a woman who no longer wants
to make war
Sally has suffered too much
Sally has already seen what
can collapse upon her
Sally was already punished
for each distraction and weakness
for each honest caress
given just to not feel bitterness

Feel that it’s raining outdoor
feel its so nice noise

Sally walks on the road and she’s firm
thinking about nothing
by now she looks at the people
with indifferent manner
those moments when a glance moved upsets
and when life was easier
and strawberries could also be eaten are far away
because life is a shiver that flies away
it’s all a balance around the madness
around the madness

Feel that it’s raining outdoor
feel its so nice noise

Yet, Sally, maybe is just this the sense, the sense
of your wandering
maybe really we must feel ourselves
a little bad at the end
maybe at the end of this sad story
someone will find his courage
to face the sense of guilt
and delete them off from this trip
to really live each instant
and every its upset
as it were the last one

Sally walks on the road with light steps
now it is evening
the streetlights lights up
all the people run to home in front of their televisions
and a seed comes into her mind
maybe her life was not completely lost
maybe something was saved
maybe really not everything was wrong
maybe it was right so
maybe, maybe yes
What do you want I tell you?

feel that so nice noise


In the hell that we are

Luca Signorelli, i dannati, Duomo di Orvieto (part.)
 Luca Signorelli, The damned, Orvieto Cathedral

In the 2017 edition of 2lei, SL event for the elimination of violence against the women, there was also a work based on my texts. This is the machinima made by Marissa during the event.

I’m sorry because today exists only the Italian version.

I am proud for this work and also touched for the beautiful readings and interpretations of Ortensia, Exantia and Eloisa: three friends and three women.

I am grateful to Elettra, who asked me to write this text, and to Terry, who built the staghe design.

I am especially grateful to my friend Kristine, who understood the true meaning of my texts before than I did.

And, of course: Lemonodo! Thank you very much!

Oh! if you want to see a not so bad translation, as Lemonodo told me, you can click the “subtitles” button, in the right bottom side of the youtube window. Then, select “English” in the settings!



Italian version


Alien sky

Photo by J.B.


So the sky becomes something not true
to the mind, unreal, rush of fire and
bright blood, trapped into the deep blue,
braided clouds stretched out by the wind

That light is stranger, alien and like
evil does, it charms and changes us,
while we are here, parked in our world,
making false landscapes, colours and sights

All the earth is now yellow, then red
when it darkens, going fast to the sunset
through the embers of this dried rainbow.
It lasts lush for a moment, then night

October, 29th 2017

Italian version