HOMESICK

In this eternal

coming and going

I feel my heart

is dying.

Homesick

because I no longer

know

where home is.

And  I am trailing

this Sehnsucht

to every corner of Mother Earth.

ALL THAT JAZZ

  

I decided

to embrace contradiction

to make it my essence

instead of evading it.

Reality is heavy:

I cannot mould into it.

I do not think

society isn’t on a human scale anymore

it’s me

that I wasn’t made on a society scale.

I am 27

and found out

I don’t like the rules of this world,

its silly and useless tricks.

Its pace alienates me.

I cannot be part of it.

I,

I just want to watch the ceiling

and listen to jazz.

DANCE OF DEATH

FRIDA KAHLO, Heinrich Ford Hospital, 1932.

I never understood Frida better

than I do now

sitting in the dark

of this closed box.

Anguish

my body exploding

creatures colonizing my organs.

I wish

I hadn’t done that.

Partially reversible.

Partially murdering.

Virgins are dancing inside me

they dance and suffocate me.

I became lame

but it was not the polio.

Dance of death.

The sleeping pills

will have their effect

soon.

RITUALS

Human beings

need 

to hurt 

themselves.

They socialize

and ritualize

forms of masochism.

Our society si fraught with them.

We have capitalized

the leftovers

of tribal courage.

pic: me performing HUMANS @ the Hackney Wicked Festival 2011, by Sandra Ciampone.

barbablu

I am sending back the key
that let me into Bluebeard's study
in his eye's darkroom I can see
my X-rayed heart, dissected body:
I am sending back the key
that let me into Bluebeard's study.

                                                     Bluebeard, Sylvia Plath

40 pills 
saved you.
Will they 
save me?
Take me out 
of this spiral?
Maybe
I need less.
Never expel them.
Neve come back.

all that jazz

che tutto quest'odio ti farà soffocare.

e questo non è il primo concerto jazz

durante il quale 

il cuore fa male 

e manca il respiro 

e la gola è secca.

in cui sogni un altrove.

che succede?

sta finendo la poesia?

stanno scivolando via le parole

come la sabbia in una clessidra?