Exteriorly
fire, ice
in my mind
my heart is boiling

re-echoes a melody
of fake E-flats
the wet street
made me think of you

for the rest of the day.

The children of tomorrow
inside the Moon
in the pathways of a glade
cry
hordes of dead men
  reopening the windows
from where escapes
  love,
the strongest fight.

And then at least
  I see coming into being
negroes,  fleur-de-lis
 a yellow clove.
Flowers and symbols
  that appear in my mind
  totems
    aztecs  .

Crying golden tears
making breaches
brightening dawns
with laurel's candles
turning laughter
in cries
setting fire
with pink flames
to the valleys
of the Empire.

The lost, darkness stolen
from my chest
light flowing like water
in moments of rest
I keep seeing ghosts
telling me lies
colourful shadows
  still searching
a truth that never dies
  in black ponds
dark as your pageboy hairstyle

I cannot have your kisses
I cannot have your smiles
I can see your graces
only a reflection on a mirror
from a few miles

only a reflection on the
privileged craft
of love and mines
I hugged your eyes
thinking of your decadent cries

Inside the lighty melody
of night's silences
and whispers coming from
your heart I hear many
cries coming from the
depth of an echo-less
  desires.

Less cries
and more joy
for drunkness
on the universal night

Black Sun

I woke up
Sun is black
a dog and a cat
no selfish rap

searching for
stepping stones
searching for
cloudy lights

All I can find
is in a fire's strike
don't die tomorrow
live all today
you know my love is sorrow
just keep on this way
no pain oh my angel
I've still got my tray
yellow rays but the Sun is black
I am not loosing track

Smell of my face
colours of your soul
lost in a miriad
heart like stone, I crawl
Voices
  on the table
noises
 of my mind, stable
your voice is like a wind

I think you saw me swing
stainless mirrors
are my fake jingles
fly as you walk
 star-light riddle

Blown-up cathedral
burnt in evil
fragments of stones
dark glass through my eyes rolls
I see true love
in the storm of all times.

Thunders

Till the break of dawn
and the night's rebirth
I found the life's span
for love to grow.
In these glassy fields
where sun's seeds are thrown
I left my hope's gifts
within the grass and the crown.
Awakened after and endless sleep
I felt the need to heal the dead
thought of patricide
so sick and deep
a son of the deeds
of a lost and dreamt salvation
I heard the cries
of the stars pulsing with light
in the red sky
crawled in the soft mud
of your kisses
daughters of chaos
and of obsolete after-life.

I feel
air like desert
converting heart
skin,
skin.
Eyes and rust

Don't feel sin
only your golden
smile.
Don't throw me back
see, I am a wreck

Admire this empty mine
called black crime
what made the sky cry today?
It's empty as my heart would say
less dangerous
then celestial crafts

I consider yet

the yellow pollen

sinking on the shoulders

and green 

emerald water

slowly raining

touching and 

creating

translucent melodies.

It's the price

that will pay

thousands innocent souls 

and trembling bodies

bleeding

of a black and white

future feeling hurdle of corrupted politics

germing of pink.

What to do
if lacking your own reason
and lost the colours?
I hear the sound
of breakfast

The prison of my aura
these four walls
surrounding my mind
fear of emotion
of exploding and die of joy
the hope of re-unite
the seeds of nature.
The affection to hear
the sound of my premature departure.

The night
starts to look like
the day
lights brightening
the air
of dark pleasure
I need a pair of wings
to keep my solitude
a special place
to comprehend how to fly
in the depths of inferno
and discover what to find
in the delves of your soul.

Down deep blood fueled wells
in streets full of dirt
where techno waves of TV satellites
enlighten minds of old gypsies
there are vibrating colourful lights
trembling in the sky
which make the poet
and his devotees
sleep nights of symbolic pleasure
and nightmarish-less treasures.

Trying to reach the heavenly apples
from the deadly tree
of extreme drunk and sinful isolation.

The noise of silence
my empty bedroom
with the stars in the firmament
and the sound of an ancient serenade

Maybe it is because I cannot walk
in the darkness of this existence
talk with my ancestors
of this banal usage
to look, understand
and over the trunks dream
suffer too much knowledge
and with the mind fly
or maybe because
walking over the mountains
engulfed with silence
I felt observed
by Christ himself
and by another hundreds of dead-men?
Muse, I let you judge
your wings spread
and this poem rest

Sunrise
  

Right in the middle of the sky 

there are flying angels

dressed of blue

crawling like criminals

your heart is a room

for all my credentials

we laid on the moon

and spoke confidential

dark clouds 

gave me strength

for this confession

trust my feelings now

my sight is placed

on a green sunset

of love and possession

I saw you
stretching your bones
under the skin
soft as the moon
like a thin melody
shaking your golden hair
and fill the air with magic
then I closed my eyes
and you were still there
writing and giving light
to the silence of melancholy

The sea is made of ink
I only think
of you.
Observe.

I am just another blood drinker
not wasting his lapis
so I write that I love you
like I love the morning sun

If I could believe
that dreamy stars
made of the same crystals
of your eyes' dark orbs
shining like torches
over my desolate spirit
would see the crucified light
of this non sense melody.