Edinburgh II

As I watch your silhouette fading away through the airport’s door,
I stumble down on my knees,
I play music, I cry like a baby because you’re not here with me anymore,
and probably you never will be.
An Atlantic distance between the two of us,
I know, it would make it a challenge.
As spring explodes in the shadow of the castle,
I sit alone in the sun you’ve seen,
as a dog barks and old souls hope for a better future.
Though spring is here for me it’s still September,
flowers bloom only on Arthur’s Seat.
People and stories go by,
and I can only think of you, of your sweet smile,
of your accent while speaking,
of the way you move when you show me things,
of your irresistible shyness.
Then a crossroad,
the drunk night of feelings,
and you already plan your next trip.
I see the green meadows in the sunshade,
I see us, holding hands, walking peacefully
creating the seed of infinite.
A dream, an illusion,
while life leads us astray,
and I still can recall your voice,
that fragile moment before it disappears in the flow.
And then I plan, I try to figure out what could I do,
to be that special man, to be the privileged,
who could kiss you under the castle’s hill.

Entanglement

I am sitting in this bar alone,
as the sun outside waver to rise.
The cappuccino gets cold,
and an old song plays on the radio.
Fog, rain, and the door opening.
A low-vibe day,
I’m snuggling undercover with a thought,
play.
And the thoughts in my head wreck havoc,
while the world spins slowly around,
People Help the People now,
exploding ground in paradise.
And that boy crying for help,
he has learned to swallow the venom,
to keep anger down,
and to fake a scenery of plastic success.
That boy has learned to smile,
to see beauty in a simple drop of rain.
to feel how cold can be a refusal,
to feel how wrong and perfect can be to love.
And the thoughts in my head wreck havoc,
a speech I can’t get,
you, sat on the sofa, snorting snow,
my love sinking in the ocean,
my knife stabbing your back,
the blood from your heart,
a flowing creek of crooked thistles,
and then liberty.
Two other bodies enter the room,
they speak my mother tongue,
I don’t want to hear my mother tongue anymore,
as the bombs explode on the boot,
and children are killed for the sake of the Unknown
the words in my head wreck havoc.

First Lady

A story that we see everyday,
A voice telling stories that will soon be forgotten.
Teams falling down, a result.
He speaks, I hear jingles.
Meanwhile a rusty singer spreads her wings,
trying to let the dust down.

Am I that dazed?

Watching the world from a distance,
waiting to be hit.
Is this the right way of living?
Always waiting for tomorrow,
for what comes next.
The world is an isolated cocoon,
where we feel immortal.

There’s no meaning to this artificial suffering,
this pain crafted through the centuries,
rules that don’t exist.
An inevitable crumbling, the illusion, the ruin.
In the littleness of my existence,
lost in space, caged in the middle of the galaxies, floating in the cosmic velvet.
I want to watch it the perfect aerial view.

Looking for a meaning to it all,
to my life, to my lust, to my love, locked somewhere.
Because it’s love that rules the world.
The smile of perfection on your face, the tenderness,
the end of every fear.
To get lost in something that’s just too much.
The wave. And then all I’d like to do is crying,
while you smile to me, while you mend my wounded skin.

My father runs the prison, beats in the cloudy evening.

Love is dead, I don’t know who I am,

the journey home looks never-ending,

white lights in the gray thin air,

violins tearing my empty heart apart.

Alone in the meaningful absence of another human being, cracking up in all these feelings,

building up the Wall, high, impenetrable, frightful.

Little glimpses of light are absorbed by steel, time, and the lies I tell myself.

The missing letters

A new ceiling, 

my eyes a trail of tear on empty and dark roads. 

What am I doing? 

I don’t even understand why I went there, 

and I remember how lonesome I was.

I don’t feel anything,

Let me get the time to write,

to craft a story,

to be safe,

to stand the challenge