Thorns again

JB

 

Thorns again dress in white
in the evening, spreading sweetness
and life’s hope from nectar glands.
Winter stasis is over

Thorns dress sadness and white
in this evening of a dying world.
Life is smoke now, without
barycenter in which there’s hope

Thorns are naked and white
in the evening, wasting sweetness
given to dark coming soon.
I’m like question in a desert

 

March, 14th 2019

 

Italian version

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Lie, fake leaves

I hope I’ll tomorrow can share here a photo of mines!
I Just did it, and today is March, 31st 2019. Lol.

 

Any elm dresses lie that’s fake leaves
under an early sun that warms up
changes which we still can’t understand
in their whole and enormous huge power

Lent is only like a vague trouble,
inconvenience to me, as a room
desolate in which I look for door.
I need You if I escape from You

 

March, 28th 2019

 

Italian version

Twilight

JB, that evening

 

I look at you so far from this loggia
while lights and colours turn on from windows
beyond the well of night that’s that lake.
A nightfall grips by fear now my world

You are there, in your houses, as usual
common business, and duties and laughs;
someone now prepares dinner or goes back
from his work and he’s welcome again

Yet now there are so powerful shadows
spread all over the world to bring terror
dark like black breath of worse ancient demons.
Make me one of your servants, God, Lord

January, 28th 2019

Italian version

Todo cambia

 

This scirocco breaks forests, breaks trees:
it is wrong and my world is wrong too,
black and soaked with so mad bad feelings
everywhere saturated by evil
 

After storm, after days that were storm
now I write. Sense of fulness and peace
covers me. I dissolve my fatigue
while light breeze dispels smoke
 

A far woman sang that “Todo cambia“:
each thing changes and me and my world
and the wind and the clouds … yes: all changes
Stay with me, do not leave me, God come!

October, 31st 2018

 

Thank you Kristine: now I know this beautiful song and enjoy it.

 

Italian version

Pigeons

Milan, JB, that day

 

Also we spin around as these foolish
pigeons turning each dry thin twig
among waste baskets and passers-by,
pastime for every dog on its leash
 

Under me, under ground subway runs
it’s a tremor that riddles all things
as strange, obvious and widespread upset,
as neglected disorder that’s nothing
 

The alpha city is around everywhere
lost in so futile cares and distracted
of life left on vacation by people.
Pace is not this small bench in this park

 

Milan, Gregor Mendel Park, October, 30th 2018

Italian version

A sphere

Judy is entering a sphere

My friend Terry built a new art expo based on ten spheres in which several artists made their works. Each sphere is as little world and it is possible enter them. The opening of this expo will be on next September, 14th 2018.

In my worse silly mode I wrote this stuff about it.

What’s a sphere? an austere
cry to show we are alive,
a small box, often block
trapping smiles in this rock

What’s your sphere? A mystère
you don’t know, when sincere
look at your bloody heart
waiting for a restart

In my sphere I’m asleep
sad and bad and I creep
toward black hole that eats
what I want in my deep

Into a sphere we all live
without sky, love and light
as poor things that deprive
themselves of any fire

SL, Casvian Caye, September, 8th 2018

Italian version

The storm

Oh, I’m so sorry: yesterday I cannot post this stuff, so I do it now.

 

Photo by JB, 2017

 

I experience the silence of mountain
lonely as balcony over the plain
where each river flows, where each old land
is now fighting against roads and buildings

 

A big storm is preparing in the west side,
it will be here soon, symbol and fact.
I stare at its black night, at its feature
that completely hides sun and blue sky

 

July, 11th  2018

 

Italian version