Alone thinking of Elem
Don’t pass by on my street
‘cause I could think
She’s coming to me
Don’t knock at my door
‘cause I might think
She comes for giving me love
Don’t call for me anytime
don’t look for me anywhere
don’t ask for me to anyone
Just leave me alone
thinking of her.
In London 1977
The tripping soul
Best among my
brothers,
they made the
revolution
gold seekers
poetry creators
kings of love
who caressed my
heart
have already gone.
I too begin to
arrange my bag
For the last
journey,
that of the soul
Sometimes people are strange
I don’t know why
people are strange
‘cause never want to make a change
I might look
same at their own eyes
My poetry no new ways tries
I always search
reasons of life
And I dislike all
human strife
I‘ve been long
time singing of love
Something like
more a mourning dove
I claim for peace
and brotherhood
I fear to be
misunderstood
I cry the times
have gone away
I should depart
but still I stay
Never will change
a poet’s heart
Always will live
the world apart
That’s our fate I
might believe
Can’t never
get what we conceive!
The
game of loneliness
As a raining March
Run fast
The white sheets of my life
Each chapter a missed opportunity
Always the last
The best
Every beginning, a program never respected,
And every time I find myself
Prisoner among four walls
Sentenced like a Shadow,
to live a life
already lived!
II
But I go ahead
striving to forget my past
my errors, my
mocking ghosts
trying to leave them behind.
And in my solitude
Their game is easy!
The Poem of Creation
Prologue
I
sing the God Almighty’s Creation
Whereof
were firstly born Adam and Eve
former
seed of any human Nation
at
the time they could only conceive
the
joyfulness with no desperation
In
the Eden still so far to receive
The
challenge of that infernal snake
Who
wanted to be a godlike fake!
I
also sing about the brave men strays,
Straight
descendents from that chosen race,
who
such in boldly and daring ways
Isr’eli
people to holy surface
They
led of Palestine. Hates, loves betray’ls
I
don't omit, on fortune and disgrace:
those
between God and men, tribes and kingdoms;
and I
sing laws, exiles and wars into my songs.
Arduous
so much however it ‘s my part,
long
and full of traps my composition,
That
plenty of fear I feel into my heart,
if
only I dare to think myself on action,
and
tremble with my hand before I start
The
Old and the New Holy Narration!
My
Fairy God, You Firmament’s Creator
Allow
me to become a keen narrator!
From
Genesis’ to Apocalypse’s book
please
drive my hand between rhymes and accents
to
enable jointly with my mind, to hook
the
most significant, deep, true sentiments
in
order they can take a fairly look
of
those seventy three, pious components!
If
someone goes to Source for sweeter tasting
all
my efforts for sure I won’t be wasting!
Please keep on singing
Tie me like
Ulysses,
I don’t want
run to death
hearing those
songs!
Bind me Lord!
But you keep on
singing!
The sins are not
yours
for the shores I
crave
or the eyes I seek
or the thrills of
my restless soul!
I beg you to keep on
singing.
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I wish I could
I wish I could hear
the love songs
closed inside the
drawers
of unexpressed,
misunderstood
hearts
I would palpitate
for those caresses
never given,
never had
for those sighs
which shake the
soul
like waves
of restless sea.
I wish I could
cover the earth
with my cloak of
love
to protect fearful
and uncertain
souls.
