Mother Goose

Better to go there to see this pic. Judy (Mitla) is the cat girl on the right.

This my puppet in a dream
behaves as a silly cat.
Are you sure am I just so?
My words freshen what we are

I’m a puppet of the fate
when I trek alone and think
that I can own my true lot.
My words twist so what we are

I’m a puppet into a stream,
a fast flow that swamps each thing
without sense or reason so
my words try to show my aims

Also a puppet becomes free
from her ropes when knees before
Who created her with love.
My words look for what we are

SL, Milk Wood, September, 12nd-October, 3rd 2020

A joke for AngelRaya



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

meet again

SL, Elven Forest chat, December, 10th 2016



In another world I use the nickname “Mitla”, a comic’s character.
She is a witch killed by the poison of her own snakes




Mitla is tired and she breeds the snakes
that kill her while his time so fast passes
Her virtues into vices change; she
fondles miseries of futile instincts

Alike a cat she skips into a dream,
benefit of her second nice life
with which she goes along and it’s easy.
Only one is the life and its essence


May, 25th 2016


Italian version


As soon as possible I’ll post here the Terry’s photo that (together with Glitter) caused this stuff



Nude girl puppet is waiting for love
as I do and you do. As each wants.
If we dream into nonsense bad hopes
all is lost in a weak dead regret

I curl up and I seem feel you skin
here to touch. I would be silk for you,
kiss and cover your body everywhere.
My heart needs cuddles, home: it’s so poor


SL, Eternal Possession
April, 3rd 2016


Italian version


Poor words inspired just now looking at this photo made by Glitterprincess storie’sGlitter switch


Every night, all the night
I would like be a switch
for your love

As a witch
change your thoughts
and catch you in my trap

Like young beech
be your green shadow dark
give you me
as you like it

Yellow stretch of new sun
be then, flash
of desire
juicy fruit


SL, Helendale Home, March, 14th 2015


Italian translation here

Will be back she perhaps


Will be back she perhaps
as the rainy sweet spring
after pale winter sunshines
after these my cold days

Will be back she perhaps
as a fresh flower breath
with her warm, soft, string arms
in which close eyes: in peace

Will be back she. Perhaps
I’ll see her colours, dress
of a young spirit, shape
for my deepest hope. Peace.

January, 9th 2014

(Dedicated to Puccetta. Thinking to my mother)

Tornerà lei, può darsi
come dolce pioggia di primavera
dopo le pallide albe d’inverno
dopo questi miei giorni freddi

Tornerà lei, può darsi
come il fresco respiro d’un fiore
con le sue braccia calde, morbide, forti
in cui chiudere i miei occhi in pace

Tornerà lei. Può darsi
ch’io vedrò i suoi colori, vestito
del suo giovane spirito, forma
delle mie più profonde speranze. Pace

Why in English?

I’m silly, but not totally stupid; I’m proud but not blind: I know how bad is my English. I studied this language only at school and hardly ever I used it.
So, why to write in English?

I like writing in Italian, my language, and I have a lot of that Italian stuff (several hundreds); only a few of this stuff was read by people different from me; only one person knows both me, the real one, and the author of my stuff. My stuff was never shared before I started to be online in the web.
Yes: and what connection between the English and what I’m talking about?

I usually don’t think to what  I want to write: my words come to me while I’m doing something: I only write them to fix them.
It seems fool, but sometimes I had written word in English about some arguments because  I was ashamed to write them in Italian, the language I know and understand very well. For instance, it was so about some love stuff, or some erotic stuff.
It can be fool, but it’s so and it’s why i started to write in English.

Then, I made curious to the sound of my words in English; so, specially using Second Life, I went to readings of English poetry and I listened to them. I liked a lot that sound, which I never heard before.
Well: I started to write sometimes in Italian and sometimes (trying and with a lot of errors) in English. I usually don’t translate my Italian stuff into English and vice versa, even if I tried doing so with a series of words inspired to Virginia Woolf’s The waves.
My English stuff, right or (most probably) wrong, is quite born as English stuff, not as translation.

Most of that English stuff is on this site and you can read it, if you don’t have better things to do.
I know how bad my English is: please, if you want, correct me. Help me.
Thank you.


Judy Barton at Plusia (Second Life), during the presentation of  her book “Mitla”.
She is the cat like girl in black.

Nude in white

(Nude in white_002_1 by Moki Yuitza)

Thank you Moki for your beautiful pic!

Like a virgin she is white, as a dove,
pure and nude
she contracts
all herself
whole her body so strong and booth thin
all her soul.

White on white
she wants exit to live
chasing flesh, pouncing herself
to exist exit
rising from the white sheet.

Not a maiden nor white,
never pure
I too lie in the white
of my pale life:
that’s my sheet
my flat sheet.
A white sheet,
flat on it
my life acts

I’m my shadow,
my white shadow,
I’ve no shadow
white on white on the floor
pale my sheet.
Sometime exit a word.
Only sometimes my words try to exit
to stand up
piercing that flat surface
to exist.

So attempt
I to hole the white floor.
to not acting for me:
to be me
I must exit the conventions’ floor
I’ve to exit that sheet.

Finding so colours, shapes.
Finding me.

Friday, 8th February 2013