doors

“What r u thinking?”
the words rained upon his brow, snapping him back from the beach in his mind. The question came from her lips but started in her diamond eyes, pulsed from her hungry heart and shed itself on her tounge. He couldn’t lie to her again but he didn’t even understand where the truth was anymore, the life that was built on shining silver lies and near impossible dreams was blinding now to cappuccino eyes.

“Tell me what ure thinking.”
her hands under her chin, as if her beautiful head was a monument of gold that her flesh alone could not support. He remembered that he loved her, he knew that, he hoped that she knew. He remembered how he met her, how they had been sent crashing into each other’s lives. He remembered the promise he had made himself years earlier and had later re-phrased and pledged to her “I`ll always be honest with u, be honest with me, even if ure being honest means u r telling me that ure leaving.”

“My heart is lived in” he murmured, so softly that for a second she wondered if he was speaking English “People have come and gone, some didn’t close the door.” It was English but it was also the language that a waterfall speaks, the rhythm of crystal bridges, the accent of the birds.

“I just want a cigarette and a love song” the words spilled forth like a glass of red wine dropped on white marble floor, spreading out with fingers of passion but not sinking in. never knew the root of his sadness, how could he explain. He had walked alone but never really believed it, she had shown him things that he had never seen and he had allowed her to feel emotions she didn’t believe existed anymore or that she had closed away in the wax prison of her heart.

He could spell her name from the footprints in his soul, he could write her name with the ashes of dead poets and he would, he knew he would.

For his eyes she was the last stop on his present journey, his final hand in this game, the last performance on this tour. He tried to speak with his eyes but they were too dark to show anything tonight, they merely reflected hers. He tried to sing to her through a kiss but her lips were not ready to understand him tonight. He tried to shout at her through whispers but she just drew harder on her cigarette.

Then she lit his cigarette, the flame echoing in her eyes. She whispered “My heart is lived in as well...my soul has footprints that make me cry...my head spins and i`d die if I sat to think about it all.”

Her eyes were like a capodimonte masterpiece found on a dirty platform at the train station, shining with artisan brilliance through the dusty darkness that surrounds. We must look forward at the sunrise and not cry tears for the sunset of last dusk. To die because of you’re past, because of past pains, distant memories that are like fresh wounds but are only ever blood stains. That isn’t the way surely.

Her voice was like a sicilian sunrise to him...he looked at her as a returning son would view their mothers house after so long away.

“Come...Move close...”

He just needed to hold her, to hide themselves away, he always needed to hide to protect. “Here, the doors closed and I’ve locked it. I’ve locked it.”

positive beats

and if i'm anyone at all
i'm the kid from down the hall
who in a barely legible scrawl
wrote his name upon ur wall
1997

silence

time has passed and we passed along in silence for some time. your heart and mine still spoke amidst the silence. our hearts still walked together even whilst our eyes were distant and our bodies were parted.
time has passed but there is a fire that is still warm. the silence is over and our voices can reach out again. the words we may utter have long been murmurred by our hearts when our eyes were distanced and our 2 bodies were parted.
time has passed and the silence is ended. it is in longing and passion that our bodies have rejoined the whispers of our hearts. solitude and silence may follow but our hearts have long since danced together in the garden of souls.
take my hand now and dance with me or leave me again in silence and passing time.

you who filled my shallow wells with addiction
oh, i fell like a wave upon thee
lover, every wave tastes the sand and crumbles
have faith that i rise and part at dawn (the shadow of oceans)
-1995-

i got tagged by Bikyaa and you should never refuse the request of a sincere friend so here are my 10 random things

1. somethings just can't be fixed or made right.

2. i bought "last tango in paris" just to be totally pretentious, and couldn't watch more than 15 mins of it

3. religion bothers me more as i get older, the question of who religion best serves and benefits keeps running around in my head.. someone said to me GoD created man, then man created religion

4. i never feel at home. my accomodation now is essentially a refuge from the rain and the cold. i never feel attachment to buildings that i've lived in.

5. i get bored very easily, like a spoilt child who has many play things do i throw dear things from my life

6. a sincere and precious person in my life still believes i have a book in me. that person believed in me when i didn't

7. i used to count my steps, sometimes into hundreds when i walked

8. i have never got my head around math, it is like the programme to run simple numeric equations was never loaded onto my hard drive

9. i am at a loss with the society i live in and i do not understand the attraction of celebrity or of reality tv shows

10. when i was younger i wanted to live in a metropolis, anything else seemed boring. now i want to live by the ocean, to be able to see it from my balcony or window.

there was you

She spoke to him as to the dearest of friends, she spoke about the past and of great moments and of lost loves
"and then there was you" she whispered
"and even when you lied you took something pure from my soul... even when you held me naked you were always alone... when you slept..you told me that you never dreamt, remember that?
well when you slept you were anywhere but here, your dreams danced within tempests my tortured love.
my wretched love.
there was always you"

stolen silver

silver words are a talent for a pseudo-poet who can weave words of wonder and open up souls by knowing what hungry hearts want to hear so that they can be warmed up and made to feel special. But over time the silver words slowly stop shining.

"you never get to the bottom of anything with you" how right she was.

it is all surface and shine, smoke and mirrors. if you push too hard then it all falls in, it implodes and passion alone cannot conceal the sham. he fooled them all and so often but you saw through it, right through to the thief inside. the thief will always steal you see. the thief will steal something from everyone, a kiss, a line, a movement, a night or the eternity of a heart.

1000

let theses clouds pass over me, 1000 more times
allow the evening sun to smooth my cheeks 1000 times yet

and your sweet memory to awaken in my mind
1000 years like this, 1000 kisses upon your lips
and nomore regret

ocean

ocean, by that i shall call you
loving you my ocean, was as it is to be submerged
adrift, in the imensity of passion
and i rode your waves for a while
and here, in my solitude i can admit
openly, as a man, that i drowned.

my ocean, i am ashore now
but in these moments of sweltering silence
when i close my tired eyes, i am there again
a single soul tossed between your waves
my ocean i am dried by the winds of memory
oh but to drown with you again. ocean

sometimes

i kept you hidden, well out of sight and behind the figure of Padre Pio where noone would ever set eyes on you... but when i was alone i often sought your company out and i slowly slipped inside you with ease, you still fit well, just like once, just like before. then i returned you, always making sure noone saw our time together. golden band of love, inscribed with love. let us talk some.

RUBEN (figlio mio)

my son, soul of 2 souls
lips of my lips
the mountains of time are tiny pebbles 'neath your gentle feet.
my son, life of 2 lives
eyes of my eyes
the horizons of tomorrow are balls of silk within your innocent reach.

double entry bookkeeping

where did the innocence go and when will redemption arrive? I want to be held by my mother and to talk with my father... instead I lay with empty hearts and cast out silver tomes of mania and passion... I want my son here in my arms... when will my redemption begin?
when will i be able to write again? when will the words of my heart fall into place again instead of looking to my tired eyes like the double entry bookkeeping of a back street dream peddler...? ? ?

perfect fool

love and i have parted twice
once i left her
and once she left me
pain was the same

"when GOD makes a fool you see GOD make's a perfect fool"