Rag doll

 

It’s a machinima by Kristine.

My friend Aola showed me a poetry she wrote about Second Life Rag dolls; it was really impressive for me, so that I asked her permission to stole and corrupt her nice work; after it, Kristine remembered me her short video… Then I wrote this post.

As a rag doll I go
across my second life,
a soft puppet made with threadbare rags
an old stuff built with pieces of cloth

If I’m here
that’s because life broke me like it did
to you too

I’ve my Love and my faith
I am blessed and lucky and I …
I was lucky till now … and thus why
do I need something else?

As rag dolls all we go
across each life we have,
like soft weak, fragile puppet that are
really unable to stand up alone

We are here
because we look for what
each of us cannot gain without help…
What is it? Our way, our peace.
Our sense

 

SL, Elven Forest, April, 1st 2021

 

Passage of opportunity

Passage of opportunity, by Atélie Kemi

My friend Lanora let me find her paintings. I am really not into not figurative art, yet some of her works are really moving and full of colours. This is one of them. Thank you, Lanora.

 

There’s a bridge, somewhere, there in the sky.
When I’m happy and life is my friend
I can see it, bright red. It’s my way:
it’s a clear path and leads to your eyes

Someone says it’s a nonsense, weird bridge
that connects no land to nowhere place
because it seems to fly in the air
with no ground where it rises alone

There’s a bridge. It’s somewhere in the sky.
When I’m sad in a foggy grey world
I can imagine it, even when
I close my eyes I know it’s just there

Someone says it’s a coloured dream
and no more: silly, senseless and without purpose …
I know it exists so that my heart
may come to your one and to your God

So you painted that bridge, in the sky.
It’s my own and it’s there, as warm sign
into cold light blue tones. Yellow splash
like sun forces us to watch up, up to Heaven

February, 11th 2021

Today (May, 7th 2021) I updated my stuff above according to my dear friend Leda suggestions

Nightwish

 

When I feel myself as a black witch
your warm skin is my usual night wish
making my body crazy and your lips
warm and sweet eat my flesh so I twitch

I’m full often of dirty night wish
when dark cloud ends so fast every day
covering hopes and too dreams and I’m selfish
like a baby child that needs to play

Black and angry like that so bad bitch
that scared Dante and tried to him slay,
my lust grows as alone and weird birch
to whip my weak soul dreams while I liey

Without hide every worry and grief
I lie down on my bed, I’m a wait.
You are what I need on this poor Earth,
you are my only beautiful
                                           night wish


SL, Galadriel Mirror,
January, 20th 2019-October,10th 2020

Sin

Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.’ H. G. Wells

 

I told you I can not be your love
to respect whom, who owns all my limbs
to be his with my flesh and my thoughts
to be as God wants and likes I be

I’ve no doubt and it’s true; I’m aware
that my path is as my reason knows
My poor heart is a little thing as
a child caged in a dark alien box

I’m sure that I can not be your love
above all in this shocking sweet dream
where I’m pixel’s mess in form of cat,
looking for closeness, hugs and surprise

It is so, yet then why
I’m upset when you chat
with another girl here, tenderness
sharing around you two
while you smile?

My weak heart is both wish and desire.
It mistakes
truth and dream, black and white, light and dark.
Jealousy whispers me that I’m wrong
thinking to control my wish alone

I’m not able to do what I want
when I see truth I do something else
I’m not able to love without love.
I need God, to be love to my Love

 

Thinking of a friend, SL, Milkwood, October, 11th 2020

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

When I regret

Ruins into spring, JB  2016

 

To all my dearest SL friends

 

When I am what I was
I remember cold days
     I’m my regret.

When I see what I saw
into your so bright eyes
     I’m my regret.

When my sin like a claw
got myself on the raw
    I’m my regret.

When this dream turns to farce
falling down as stones, sparse
     I’m my regret.

When my life sudden sadness becomes
for no reason, indeed
     I’m my regret.

When my thoughts across screen
touch your skin
     I’m my regret.

When I get keepsake of
some young girls I met here
     I’m my regret.

Souvenir of weird puppet,
insane mind, silly words:
I’m that bitch, I bring them.
    Yes I’m regret and pain.

 

SL, March, 20th 2020

Jess

 

You lay down on a carpet on grass
lovely girl, young pale girl, while I’m dark
and black weird sinful soul
I look at your chest breathe and feel weak

My legs cannot bear more all the pounds
of so many years gone with no gain
I look at the peace of your pure breast
moving up and down, slow… I’ve a sigh

As a water ghost, pure and light, clean
innocent-looking girl, I’m here, near
to you looking at my dirty skin
after my birthday in this strange time

SL, Elven Forest,
March, 15th 2020

First Advent week

 

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

Blackristine song

Take care, my friend.

I don’t know if a veil
can be a lie, can be a jail
hiding and trapping well
what I am in my hell

I need what I don’t know
maybe love, maybe more
I’m alone in this world
I’m my rain falling down

I would like sing nice words
free my soul, fly as bird
yet that red purple moth
seems a wound on my mouth

I shake my body hard
with no sense. I move hands
like a child with no dad.
Pain is my name so far

I don’t know, maybe a veil
can be a lie or a jail…
My mask falls down to earth
I show you now my heart

 

October, 1st 2019

Tiny

 

There’s impossible love, sometimes, here
there’s impossible touch and kiss: you’re
so thin, soft, little, frail
and I can kill you using a nail

I long for you and your lovely skin
breakable as is weak each young fresh girl
I wish kiss you and hug you so tightly
and sigh for that’s no way to do it really

It’s impossible love, this one, here
as so often I see around me
I am too thin, soft, little and frail
anyone can wound me with a nail

 

 

SL, Silks, August, 20,2019