things that amaze you
sometimes your hands holding on
to something too tightly yet
you hold not a grain of those beans
spilling all over your feet
the sound of violin playing slowly
at the opening and then faster
at the end
your feet cannot hold the dance
hidden inside your heels
you step and tiptoe on the street
as people gaze at you
a girl looks attentively and sways her head
saying it does not look good for a woman
at 45 still behaving like a
child what a shame she says when she
behaves like a woman
despite the pinches that she receives from
mother and there is the man who dusts off
a tinderbox as he finally finds his
hidden treasure his toy soldiers all stuff
like that taken away from him when
he was once a young boy beaten almost
to death by a cruel father.

the piano plays in the dark
it is inside my mind
every note of it
i see the old man still on his trembling fingers
the sound of his music clings in the ears
of my heart

she died a long time ago
it is his inability to accept things as they are
that makes his fingers sing

it is this sadness in his heart
that makes his solitude as beautiful as ever
verily like the face of the woman he loves

it is this darkness that keeps all lights open
dusk, twilights, trailing blazes of needles of peeping light
penetrating the shutters of his window

at the end when he dies
i look at the face of the room again
stained with so much sorrow
artistically
priced without much value
the onlookers laugh
i don't
precisely i know the story and i want to write
this one
all over again
not on paper but inside my mind
my soul is the pen
my heart bleeds on paper

flashes of lightning
sounds of thunder
woman whirling around
the green light
man gazing at the red light
above him

feathers of red chicken
around her head
asking if i am strong enough
asking where i slept last night
asking if i shall finally walk away
from her
as she sings at the top of her voice
her cheeks red like cherry
her eyes teeming with tears
as she swirls around the green light
as the man
stops on the yellow light
still thinking
whether to go or not to go
to stay and be part of this
traffic of paranoia
psychedelic feelings
the last goodbye

as she sings whether
she will live or die
she swirls around the yellow light now
with a knife on her hand
her wrist still pale and her pulse
still beating

it is the same view from here
the sea and the island and the sharks around it
it is the same me
unable to decide whether to cross the see
leave the island
and take the risk with all the sharks

what am i suppose to do
sit around and wait for you

i needed time to move on
i needed love to feel strong

i believe in love
i believe in you

feeling something
someone
it's you

at low tide
try walking on the shallow water
now be surprised
for you can see the edible snails
the treasures of the sea
right at your feet
ready for your picking

it is what happens too
at the lowest ebb
of your life
keep on going then
for the same treasures
shall lay beside your feet
keep looking
just keep looking

the light blue sea marks a boundary with a mild wave and foam
along the sands of the shore two white empty benches hold a pink bikini and a white swimming trunk
at the other side of another empty beach chair,
is the bra
the calm sea erases the footsteps towards it

up my bed
last night beside my lampshade
i see a moon with a mouthful of stars giving up all its light for a magical evening inside my room

let us
let us all be
white sails blown by the wind in one direction
flapping, flapping winds, flapping wings of a white bird towards the endless sea.

remember me as summer
better still a refreshing summer wind
from a green mountain
remember me as summer
summer strawberry
red, red strawberries
from your fingers to your
mouth to your tongue
sweet, sour, and luscious,
remember me, better remember me
as summer, wind, green mountain,
strawberry, red and luscious
staying in the grassy fields of your
heart and mind

remember me as past summer wind
as a mountain gone, as grass wilting,
as strawberry consumed
each flesh digested all within

a red carnation

many wants to stand for it
love, yes could be,
fire, fire on a green stalk
from whom? from love
yes, yes it could be
bloody, this red carnation
is bloody
but love, love, yes it could be
love, from the pocket
of your black suited heart
oh, yes, bloody, so bloody,
this red carnation, could still be
love, love, yes it could be

how much harm more can
it do
wrecking havoc on innocent
hearts, these bloody, bloody
victims
of love, love, yes, the red
carnation could still be

five blue beach chairs
empty facing the foamy sea
the big rainbow
colored umbrella casts
its little shadow
as usual the sands have
nothing to say
there are no more people here
on this stormy day
this is the day of the haunting
memories like dragons of
old spitting fire

tell me if you have seen them.

little talk

it is the lull
of the night
that little talk
about
a silly thing

nothing heavy
everything light
and senseless

night passes us by
we are its little
things
its tiny thoughts

we too are the
passers-by
the night our
silly friend

antidote

If you want to know what i ache for,
my heart's longings

If you want to know if i risk my life for love
whether i take all the adventures of being alive


If you want to know if you i have touched the center of your sorrow,
if i have been opened up by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

If you want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
if i can dance with wildness and let ecstasy fill me
to the tips of my fingers and toes
without cautioning myself to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.


If you want to know if you i betray another to be true to yourself;
if i can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray my own soul.

If you want to know if i can be faithful
If you want to know if i can see beauty even when it's not a pretty day,
and if i can source my life from God's absence.

If you want to know if i can live with failure
and stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the moon,"Fuck you!"


if it interests you how i can get up after a night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done


If you want to know if i will stand in the center of the fire
and not shrink back.


If you want to know what sustains me from the inside when all else fails

If you want to know if i can be alone with myself,
whether i truly like my empty moments

I'm sorry, but i keep all these matters to myself
I shall only share with you what happiness is

My grief and sorrow are mine for you have yours too.
What shall all my lamentations do for you?

You have your own share, I have my own too
And the adage becomes true: “Sorrow happens, hardship happens, the hell with it!

red bricks
walls
thick walls

seeing these walls
of red bricks
feeling the hardness
of each
with my soft hands

close my eyes
feel that
i am inside you
a wall

no i don't scream
i moan

and then i am silent
so tired and
asleep

dreaming of windows
red doors
golden locks
platinum keys

wings on my shoulder
feathers of birds

blue skies red suns
blue moons

got one cherry
inside my mouth
letting it stay there
as my tongue
plays

toys with a red
sweet cherry

my lips, my lips
drenched
with such sweetness

prelude to love
tonight

A PICTURE OF STRAWBERRIES

red as love

more than the roses

cloying

my sense of taste

and smell

to such an attractive

fruit

ornate luxuriously appealing

enriched

desire of strawberry

days

your lips and nipples

touching my lips

savor this

delicious feeling

of love forgotten

AT THE WHARF

a man with a white face towel
half naked
bends on the cemented beam
of the wharf
looking for
canaries
this early cold morning
when the sea
is calm like a white sheet
on the table

JUST A POEM TO A CARICATURE AND NOTHING ELSE

Alice B. has a suspicious eye
beneath her curly hair
her mouth is but a slit
keeping pain to herself
she has given up her
pair of eyebrows looking
sinister to the black and white
sketches of giant goldfishes
floating in the air
beside her.

just a poem and nothing more

how can i waste my
natural resources with you
on another
blow job?

let us stop this
i am not into mass killing.

cindy's night out

she likes her hair
red and her skin
pale
not jibing with
moonlight

big white flowers
hang in her room

a black pumpkin
with white leaves
has two rats ready
for her dreams

obviously she believes
in Cinderella

obviously she is waiting
for the fairy godmother
to do the magic

when she decides finally
to spend her night out

looking for her prince
wanting to fulfill her dreams

you might notice
she is already ready

all day she practiced
walking with only one shoe

she runs and laughs at the same time
inside her black room

carlo betocci's child
sits on a table and looks at the world
outside through a glass window

the view is too beautiful not to be touched
the high distant mountains
garnished by bluish clouds
and fingers of the sun
caressing the grassy plains

too far and yet too beautiful
the child couldn't help but caress the
glass window with his palms

when i was a child
i don't really know how significant is the
mona lisa
smile, at first glance nothing in it is delicious
like a chocolate cake
or a red lollipop
or magnolia drumstick

i remember
how you snub the red wheelbarrow
what is it in a rusty wheelbarrow that stirs mankind
into deep thinking?

now things have changed
the sigh has a lot to say to the wind
the air has a heart of its own
the sea becomes a body of a woman
the moon a beautiful face
the night is not a place for fear
but for desire
romance spreads in the air
and the flowers that we pluck for play
may better be
staying to bloom at their stalks

we watch things rot
flowers that wilt and give up their gnarled petals

time indeed makes us different
when the sunset comes we become too cautious
we choose the words
we place our hands properly on the table
our eyes sharp now
to every detail
inside the labyrinths of our hearts

the childless one

the kindergarten kids
in their dark blue coats
and uniforms are playing
hide and seek
in the school

at first glance i thought
it is like that
but beyond what i seemingly
see i guess
something is wrong

one is closing the door
the other hides his face
and the little girl
wants to leave but her
face looks behind her

someone is weeping
i guess
but look at me
i am not really interested.

in the shallow part of the river
we decide to play: life is a game
we like to believe that
our arms drip like cold water
on the side of the glass
that you hold when you have felt
the first thirst

i shall not satisfy you
and so i have become the bait
of the fish
you have become more interested
on what i have to say

not to be mistaken as trivial
i have also taken more glances at you
i believe you
and so with this trust i ask you to go with me
to the deep part of the sea

i swim first then you follow
you know how to swim and you swim well in fact
like a fish

at the shallow part
i told you that nothing is hidden
nothing signifies anything
the stones are stones
and nothing else
your questions are just ordinary questions
which i have answered so well

and you believe me more until
we dive deep
deeper into the ocean floor
where the sands though silent
have more to say
than what i can tell you
the stones on the sides of the deep
now are telling you more
and you begin to understand
why for all those years
on that dry land
i have kept my silence
my distance.

the road to understanding
appears to us
fenced and paved
the way all cleared
and the grasses on the side
well trimmed
the trees grown on a line
and flowers are grouped
according to their kind

complacent we think that this is all
that there is nothing to be figured out anymore
there is nothing to be scrutinized
nothing to question

you sit inside the hut on the side of a hill
and rest and breathe the air from there
there is nothing to be done
everything is handed
and what we do is only to receive
and behave

no one jumps over the fence
no one puts another kind of flower anymore
what grass you know
is the grass that is well trimmed
nature manicured

i have long gone away from that place
i live in the forest
and struggle to communicate with the monkeys
i am clearing my own way
and building my own house on top of a tree

i am well, and i guess happier.