..or rather 17!
...
Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone my senses reeled
A fatal attraction holding me fast, how
Can I escape this irresistible grasp?
Cant keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i
Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything
No navigator to guide my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone
A soul in tension thats learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Cant keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i
Friction lock - set.
Mixture - rich
Propellers - fully forward
Flaps - set - 10 degrees
Engine gauges and suction - check
Mixture set to maximum percent - recheck
Flight instruments...
Altimeters - check both
(garbled word) - on
Navigation lights - on
Strobes - on
(to tower): confirm 3-8-echo ready for departure
(tower): hello again, this is now 129.4
(to tower): 129.4. its to go.
(tower): you may commence your takeoff, winds over 10 knots.
(to tower): 3-8-echo
Easy on the brakes. take it easy. its gonna roll this time.
Just hand the power gradually, and it...
Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
Out of the corner of my watering eye
A dream unthreatened by the morning light
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night
Theres no sensation to compare with this
Suspended animation, a state of bliss
Cant keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i
27anni..
Does anybody here remember Vera Lynn?
Remember how she said that
We would meet again
Some sunny day?
Vera! Vera!
What has become of you?
Does anybody else in here
Feel the way I do?
The fog
We told you not to go too near the edge.
We did call you back.
But the fog was too dense…
…and you couldn’t, you wouldn’t hear.
People do it all the time
But they usually have the bloody music on,
And their eyes closed,
So they cannot see the way.
We thought you had more sense than that.
And when the swirling fog caught you in its arms,
You drifted with it, curling through the purple pathways
Of the smoky serenity.
It swept you with it into the floating clouds.
(The stranger in the village pub had said, “The fog in these parts
Is notorious. And bad.”
Fucking stupid city-dwellers us…
We didn’t bother.)
We went back to wait in the car,
We knew (erm, we hoped) you would return.
And when you came back
You had tears in your eyes.
And all we could do was look.
You said you had tried staring
At the sun.
That had hurt your eyes,
And you had fled from the sneering mist.
We met the stranger again. At the pub.
“Heavens be praised the fog didn’t take you too near the sun.
At least you turned wiser before you could be frizzled to these potato chips here…”
Don't Leave me!
In sogno mi spieghi che mai ti allontaneresti dalle persone a cui vuoi bene.
Hopelessly confused
...Abbracci
piu caldi dell'estate
Familiarita
chiarificante
rinascita
di nido
rinnovato
Gioia tremante...
...nostalgie
in astroprojection
!
Settling
I have though about all sort of things: about people's desire to spread themselves out, make new discoveries, roam around; and then again about their inner drive to yield voluntary to restrictions, to go along on the sweet track of habit, without bothering about what's to the right or left, without listening.
I hastened here and I'll come back without finding what I had hoped for, but still I found out something....
Distance is like the future! An enormous glimmering oneness lies before our soul. My feeling blurs in it along with my eyes and I long to let go of my whole being, to let myself be filled with all the bliss of a single great, glorious feeling........But alas! When I hasten there, when there becomes here, everything is as it was, and I stand in my poverty, in my finiteness, the soul thirsting for the refreshment that has slipped away.
...Thus the most restless vagabond longs at last for his home country and finds in his family the bliss that he sought in the wide world in vain.
How happy I am to feel the simple in my heart!
It is wonderful how everything around attracts me, how I can look from the hill into a lovely valley.. from under a tree at his protecting rebellions.. interweaving along the surface of rocking ocean.. loosing myself...................................................A presto.
Endourance
FORCE.
Constance...habitude...persévérance...
PATIENCE.
Résilience...résistance ...ressort...
VITALITE
solitude...souffrance...solidité...
...trempe...
..writings
Perhaps it is the imagining of a person that makes them so hard to see at times and at some others so plain, so madly complete. I'm sure. And than, a misgreeded spot: 'je comprends pas' or so, 'I see'...
Navigation.
I draw to and around a passage through a space and in it...well...my steps, my purpose, my pose. At a glance I am sure I only hear resonances in distance. I stand in orbital eyes: attached, repelled, defeated and still consanguineous with some dreams, some presence..
Delocalization.
I have found myself to be tasking to sense, cut off by my edges, my own renoval, my own haste, my turbolence...making new life undigestable. Others breaths behind me, around me, holding me near a greater complexity, a constant choosing, judging - attraction and repulsion. My life...the environment in which this blured image reverberates. Me senseless, bloodless, awaken me, rude me, just worming myself on a rock, on a stage of someone else's theater.
I'm well. I'm not well. I'm either but sure about that coldness at the end of my nose - but I'm aware.
The imagining begins: the shimmer or the hiding, the placing of self, this flashy mirror... And so the others breath with me closer now but my eyes look to the floor as I'm freezed.
...You were whoever you were - my everything... when I jumped and slipped on an oversized shoe.
Monday Nights
Mitico ritrovo del lunedi sera: open stage tra barbecue e biliardo...
Arturo - Good energy!
Mak & Sanad
e Zoe
"..Do you think he's there somewhere?"
Lucente e vuoto
Nuotare
a bracciate
di sogni concreti.
Lasciarsi cullare
in un'occasione
di movimento temporale.
Vivere il momento
in sync angolare con la distanza:
proiezione della spendida vastita'
di nostro pianeta necessario.
..Affondare
nella realta dell'immaginario
E poi naufragare
sul fragile equilibrio del naturale...
Byron Bay
>>>
>
it is dangerous in there
if you can't laugh.
>
There's beauty out there
if you can see.
>
it is warm everywhere
when you can ear.
>
>>>
Animula
"Issues from the hand of God, the simple soul"
To a flat world of changing lights and noise,
To light, dark, dry or damp, chilly or warm;
Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs,
Rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys,
advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm,
retreating to the corner of arm and knee,
Eager to be reassured, taking pleasure
In the fragment brilliance of the Christmases tree,
Pleasure in the wind, the sunlight and the sea,
Studies the sunlight pattern on the floor
And running stags around a silver tray;
confounds actual and fanciful
Content with play-cards and kings and queens,
What the fairies do and what the servants say.
The heavy burden of the growing soul
Perplexes and offends more, day by day;
week by week, offends and perplexes more
With the imperatives of "is and seems"
And may or may not, desire and control.
The pain of living and the drug of dreams
Curl up the small soul in the window seat
Behind the Enciclopedia Britannica.
Issues from the hand of time the simple soul
Irresolute and selfish, misshapen, lame,
Unable to fare forward or retreat,
Fearing the warm reality, the offered good,
Denying the importunity of the blood,
Shadow of is own shadow, spectre in his own gloom,
Leaving disordered papers in a dusty room;
Living first in the silence after the viaticum.
Pray for Guiterriez, avid of speed and power,
For Bodin, blown to pieces,
For this one who made a great fortune,
And that one who went his own way.
Pray for Florest, by the broad hound slain between the yew trees,
Pray for us and at the hour of our birth.
- Thomas S. Eliot (1929)
Dove si va oggi, Guen?
Ho comprato la mia prima macchina!! Si chiama Guendaline... ha la mia stessa eta', interni: suer accessoriata, esterni: ben sgarruppata.. mancano solo i freni e perde benzina, ma la sistemero piano piano nel frattempo ci sta per cantare..
'Quel gran genio del mio amico
lui saprebbe cosa fare,
lui saprebbe come aggiustare
con un cacciavite in mano fa miracoli.
Ti regolerebbe il minimo
alzandolo un po'
e non picchieresti in testa
così forte no
e potresti ripartire
certamente non volare
ma viaggiare.
Sì viaggiare
evitando le buche più dure,
senza per questo cadere nelle tue paure
gentilmente senza fumo con amore
dolcemente viaggiare
rallentare per poi accelerare
con un ritmo fluente di vita nel cuore
gentilmente senza strappi al motore.
E tornare a viaggiare
e di notte con i fari illuminare
chiaramente la strada per saper dove andare .
Con coraggio gentilmente, gentilmente
dolcemente viaggiare.
Quel gran genio del mio amico,
con le mani sporche d'olio
capirebbe molto meglio;
meglio certo di buttare, riparare
Pulirebbe forse il filtro
soffiandoci un po'
scinderesti poi la gente
quella chiara dalla no
e potresti ripartire
certamente non volare ma viaggiare.
Si viaggiare… '
Lucio Battisti
(dedicata A/DA CA'..:)
In darkness
Goddess is nature and heart itself, pulsating with seasons: bring life in spring, death in winter.
EMU
Sleepless nights
Sleepless nights
the storm in my head
I want to cover
rolling of waves
head does not want to discover.
Silently drinking
silently thinking
silent thoughts of sleepless nights.
Darkness wakes the mind
the body does not make a sound
thoughts of yesterday
erupt in vulcanic disruption.
Alf Taylor - Singer Songwriter
