262

High Time

What's the time?

Isn't it high time

Winter left at once?

Now wearing military boots

all those jackets, jumpers,

warm black socks and shoes.

Perhaps it refuses to leave

it denies its existence

maybe it's that time of the year

when you're just in a hurry.

Running away from the past

looking forward to burying

what was not supposed to happen.

259

Talented

I am not actually talented

that term has never been present,

it has never crossed my mind

I do what I feel, I feel what I say.

Every sense of time and space

conjugated, translated into verses

eternal alumni, no professional light

but the sun in my eyes

the feelings bursting out

the ideas that come across

I am afraid and inspired, that's all.

257

Shattering

On the verge of shattering

the wonderful world of words

they approach, come near

because they already know

soon I will utilise them

them, so joyfully inviting me

I take part in the feast

among syllables, rhymes,

homophones, false cognates.

We are all here for eating

for devouring one another,

not feeling advantageous

just living the moment

whilst marvellous stanzas

they shall materialise,

shaping up to dazzling smiles.

Coming from your mouth,

what else could I ask for?

I am not surprised,

no, not at all.

255

Eyes

Never deprive me from your eyes

I want to gaze at them
as you do it with mine.

Every time I read your lines

I look in my pocket of, there we are,

relentlessly carrying me, is it you,

whilst your prose, your tongue

very well is it tanunting me

causing my comeback

I cannot take it anymore

come kiss me, boy.

241

Repetition II

I write

I write because I can’t lie;

I can’t lie

I can’t lie because I can’t find

a way of living

a way of not hesitating

a way of breathing

a way of coping with everything

a way of feeling without grabbing.

206

Dreams

I dream upon my pillow

below it there's a slip of paper

containing both words and rhymes

I can be well defined

as the authorised version

of a very similar person

not outward looking

into a thousand pieces splittering,

sometimes crying in torment

though only when necessary.

With this sould of mine

this human being began

paradigmatic relations establishing

just as Saussure does

with linguistic systems,

though this time in real life

through paratextual quotes in poems

which are as different

as alike they are.

203

Eternity

After such a long year

making an effort to leave

to finally close that curtain

for once and all say it's over

to now read this message

inviting me to carefully listen

unable to remotely cope with

unable to fully comprehens

all a past life knocking at my door.

Now it's compressed, called "art",

now everywhere being sung,

now everyone their head bang,

whilst I still remember clearly

the night that song was born.

200

Nothingness

Sometimes it is nothingness,
sometimes all of it.
Chaos aligning just in time,
rounded stones thrown.
I read the blurry signs
one minute before floating
like rounded bubbles I go up;
yet so afraid of missing this.
I ironically smile,
advising not to be underappreciated
as I let go in complete fear
of exchanging love for red lights.
Which shall it be the result?
At least I can mention
that I am still alive
this moment to witness
among constellations shining.

184

Comeback

And then,

all of a sudden,

I decided to return.

The only plan,

the only purpose,

the only target

is to avoid another injury.

So conscious am I

of strengths and limitations,

yet unable to give up.

181

Digitally

Your digital creepy voice

begiing some attention,

craving desperately for love

without a clear notion

of where to go

or how to make it stop.

The, I shut this down,

I forget about this stuff,

the intangible, for a while -

I begin to stretch out,

since no matter how hard I try

you are not around now.

I focus on the steps,

for I need my whole strength

on the tempo of the waltz;

on polishing my fifth,

the demi pliés, the soufflés -

I remind myself of the grace

when performing a relevé.

178

Art

Art is utterly painful,

I am kind of puzzled,

as to the agony, the price,

is it worth the effort?

It is only through perseverance,

strength and perseverance

what actually makes it great.

As a Greek thinker once said,

a virtue that with hard work

can only be attained.

Otherwise, and I take the credits

about this one

it is harmless fun

that in the long run

nobody will ever recall.

172

Natural talent

I don't really believe

I've got a nature talent,

I don't consider myself

to be a gifted woman.

I think in fact am I unsure

who it get too dark.

But let's picture this for a while:

me taking part of a writing contest,

making everyone believe

that I'm outstanding poet...

it sounds hilarious, right?

So never take my seriously,

as someone unable to handle real life,

how could I a writer become?

I only set some lines,

like in Tetris do I place rhymes;

I give you special binoculars

for you to see through my eyes.

157

Do's and dont's

No one has ever taught me

the do's and dont's here

of bloody poem writing.

I just gather knowledge,

vocabulary and grammar concepts,

adding rhythm and rhyme

only when possible;

and, above anything

I let myself float

on the river of feeling

the stream becoming the driver

up to the wisdom sea.

155

Jim Jarmusch

Chatting about Jim Jarmusch

straight after having sex,

that doesn't happen regularly,

yet I would take it for granted.

However am I willing to repeat

a very similar experience

if I ever happen to encounter

with a similar creature

down in this sea of ignorance,

of panic, of shallowness.

154

Sobriety

I am growing older -

never implying I am wiser,

but hardly ever have I returned

to my previous state.

I am still remaining sober -

I have been working on that

since my last time at the bar

the night I got so drunk.

Little by little, step by step

I have come to realise

in alcohol there is neither fun

nor words to speak my mind.

I respect it may work for some,

it is the muse of their work,

yet for my starter writing

it has only stand for as an obstacle.

I would rather stop doing that
than get its weak inspiration
for dying from inanition
appear to be sensitive idea.

Nowadays I feel alive
consuption was not the real me -
for am I the bag of contradictions
only working without substances.

Just me and my old pencil.

151

Stormy

There's a severe storm

it has not stopped,

not since five o'clock.

That was in the morning,

but still, I'm soaking wet,

I'm now wearing red

as if bright colours

were to put an end

to this eternal cry

which is happening,

which is going on right now.

I think I'll move forward,

intending to finally forget

what is lying behind.

149

Cloudy I

How many days

can humans survive

without seeing the sun

come out to say hi?

I actually miss it

I miss watching a sunset,

I miss its dry hug

before early nights arrive.

It's somehow depressing

when you're aware it's there,

yet you won't get the chance

to gaze at its bright colours today.

148

Self lovely-like

Imperfection is perfectly achieved

only and insofar as I prove myself

absolutely capable of dissolving

the very same old roots;

completely capable of evolving

into the one I always wished to be;

fully capable of resolving

all those matters relying

both before and beneath me.

I believe that actually is,

in my humble opinion, 

how self love ought to be.

147

Brand new

Brush up on fresh language,

try not to focus on my body

sunno drift off with the past,

to go slowly you are obliged.

Demolish what is built,

be careful not to touch my shit,

come up and test my speech

you will see not all is real.

Shall we talk at once?

I know sometimes it is hard.

You are invited to lose track

of that dimension bringing you down.

144

The barre

Life becomes a bit sweeter,

movements are pure pleasure,

my body language turns tender,

I relax all of my muscles.

Suddenly relevés provoke tension,

since the posture ought to be maintained,

and just towards the end

keep pressing, pushing is a clear notion.