Monday, July 18, 2005

Pieces of poetry, today...

Just feeling needin' goodness...

I did touch
or it might be She touched me instead,
tanglin me up in her embrace...
It's like she went here
to block and dry my blood within,
and now I feel so cold,
in and out this thick skin.
People who won't ask a thing,
because they did already accept
someone else's reasons in it,
are haunting me and say
those who leave go to the joy,
and that should be our peace
inside and out to rest and stay...
But all I see is pain,
questions nobody can solve
trash souls whom were happy one back day...
and then a raging why surfaces,
afraid and unable to make anything right,
and then I just look out to get
why words remains just themselves,
why do they stay so senseless,
ethereally fading away...
Those who leave leave to the joy...
Go and tell it to the one who stands
awkwardly bashed by speed of time...
Go and tell it to the one whom used to hope
in some present justice,
go and face the one whose hand
will never reach again
the shape of a loving man...
I'm over this hill
rushed by windy caress
from Winterly Sir:
and I find no peace
in any of these myths...
But watchin still
towards the one that still rise
although he's breakin inside,
I feel like wishing them to believe
in that sense I just can't perceive...
I wish that those who left
can get him back
all of the gone hopes, and life and all that
they wish to feel touched by again.
I did touch Death onto this unmoving hill:
and She did also touch me.
I wonder who you are,
you seem to have no plans...
You seem to not confide
your razor will erase the broken bones...
You have put onto so young shoulders
while sometimes you let badness
ruling all of our ways...
And still this empty hill
frozen by the wind
it's gonna rebirth...
And we are gonna remain
here wondering why,
here answering ourselves by...
and here we're gonna still stay,
feeling so small,
feeling so bound to be break,
and always unaccepting what we should just take:
what we can't avoid to be...
In this slow game of the seasons,
the only things that change
is our illusion to be ready to make anything
and breathe...
but then why, why, why...
like flowers too beautiful
these illusions will
be flowering all over and over again?
Glittering my mind and heart again?
Again? Again...again?


matteo said...

very nice blog.
Amazing and deep

matteo said...

Ti ho vista nei post precedenti, sei bellissima altro che inquietante...