last moon

Monday, June 18, 2018

Sighing at the Universe

We might call it God

It's already  dawn 
somewhere in the east
 while the same sun
 is setting down
 yonder in  the west
 and seven billions hearts are throbbing
 all around the earth
 with their evil and good
moved by the same force
 that pushes the rivers, the seas and the stars:
 we might call It God
Mistery, Cosmos or Physics' Laws
 but that's It.

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Sunday, June 17, 2018

The story of Mr Winningoes - 7

- Have a drink, please. It is cognac from Charente, one of the few things that I appreciate of French people.”

This way saying he poured some of that liquid in a short, carved wine glass, explaining  that a cognac, to be really good, has to leave, if slightly rotated, a thin layer of color inside the glass.
As soon as I had drunk, I immediately felt a comforting warmth. On the warm’s alcohol wave I thought that that man surely knew so much indeed about life. His theories, yet quiet abstruse to me, showed however a sort of suggestive charm.

- “You certainly know how has the second world war concluded” - said the man, who went on talking about the last phases of the war, mixing them with some personal circumstances and original points of view, totally different from official historical interpretation .

- “Excuse me , my friends, for detouring from the main path” - he returned to say taking back the main stream of his narration. -“After all, such problems, didn't interest to me so much at the time, neither they interest to me today. I had to follow my life, and rather, the use of the atomic bombs in Japan made me understand, even more, the urgency of stopping mankind’s foolishness, under the risk of destroying the world and all its living forms. When I was dismissed, appointed as a real hero, I decided to go to pay a visit to my father. I still felt some grudge towards him and perhaps, I thought, I would  fling to him my medals,  which “his” king had given to me. But the memoirs of my happy infancy wound me in a veil of emotion and when I saw my father, old and tired, convicted on a wheels chair, I understood that was time to pass over and look at future.
7. to be continued...

Friday, June 8, 2018

The story of Mr Winningoes - 4

The burst of the second world war caught me surprised on this walk of studies and searches.
Bitterly I was forced to consider that human beings pursued their premature end, rather than search for the truth.

But at that time I hadn't yet understood that every human action, even the most iniquitous and bestial, has however its own reason to be done and for me, that war, would have been another fundamental step on the way of comprehension.

When Germany, violating the international agreements formerly undersigned, moved war to England, attacking London, I realized that the right moment had come for me to show that the Parnells loved to fight for freedom, under any flag and against whoever oppressed its exercise. I went to England and enlisted, as a volunteer,  in the Royal Air Force, despite I have to confess you that, after the betrayal of my father, I felt more Irish than English, also considering that in those days, as it is today, Ireland was divided in two parts, with a part still under the British dominion.

4. to be continued...

Sunday, May 27, 2018

The story of Mr Winningoes - 3

I travelled at first through the United States and Canada, then I went to Australia and New Zealand. After I visited Europe, without never finding the courage to return to my country. Tired of the European Countries, among which I mostly liked Italy, I departed to India and finally, always curious of new lands, I went to Africa.

Neither women, neither alcohol, nor drugs not even the vices which I was devoted in those years succeeded in cancelling my bitter memoirs, until one day, while I was sojourning in Kenya, I fell ill, prey of strong fevers. Not a lot, then I gave, to live or die, but the Fate, had evidently planned  that I survived, so that the programs could be realized, whose I will have the honor and the pleasure to communicate to you. Revealed therefore from the illness, I returned to America aiming however to south, that I had not visited yet.

Going up again homeward, I stayed for a long time in Mexico, that not little fascinated me. By then,  I had satisfied my world's curiosity, so I preferred to  take over again my studies, more assidously  than before. I was akin of all: medicine, biology, physics, mathematics, chemistry, hidden sciences, illusionism, magic arts, engineering, electronics, astrology, philosophy, astronomy, sociology, anthropology, theology, ethnology, history, juridical, economic and political sciences and every other thing attracted my mind curious of reaching new knowledge.

During the numerous years of my following study, it happened on me a gradual mutation that flowed, after another  short lapse of  time, in a great, bright revelation. I had realized, deepening on studies that any single subject lost, little by little, until vanishing, its own contours and that all acquired information met in a bubbly melting pot, to form just one, immense nucleus of knowledge.
Yes, dear friends: our knowledge is an original, total unity. The single disciplines of human knowledge are but the infinitesimally small fragments that the mankind looks hopelessly for recomposing in to the aboriginal unity.
Two were the necessary consequent corollaries to this thrilling discovery. The first one is that the brain of both animal and human beings constitutes, though at a different evolutionary stadium, a microscopic part of the primordial totality. The second is that human thought search, yet in a blind and messy manner, to recompose, at a mental level, the great, primitive explosion, the Big-Bang, through a long and fatiguing marching back, up to the innumerable light years that separate it, from an equal, yet opposite, roaring and powerful implosion. And if you consider that our mind speculates in the space-time as fast as speed-light, this kind of final Big-Imbang will appear less far than any hasty forecast.
3. to be continued...

Monday, May 21, 2018

London for ever - 19

One of these was the "black giant". 
He was a tall, thick Jamaican, always wrapped in a heavy gray coat; he was constantly turning the length of the square, scratching his curly, woolly head, or his back and legs and never saying hello to anyone. 
Once, and it  was the only one, he came up to ask me for an ice cream.
 I served him a cone with some cream on it. He maybe thought  I was expecting the money, because he attacked me with a load of arrogant phrases, in his incomprehensible Jamaican dialect. His eyes were red and swollen. 
After the first series  of insults he gave a tremendous bite to that poor ice cream, swallowing  almost half of it. Then, seeing that I had remained impassive, he still uttered some bad words, with less conviction than before and went away. 
I hoped so much that I never had anything to do again with that energumen, at least  for fear of his undesirables guests. 
But as I saw him, in the distance, resume his scratching all over his body, I realized that there was no danger: the fleas were very fond of him.
19. to be continued...

Sunday, May 20, 2018

The story of Mr Winningoes - 2

He recommended himself to my comprehension, since he had acted for my own goodness, leaving me out, considering also my youth age, from the clamors and from the shame of the scandal that had overwhelmed our honorable name, and he finally, remembered me, that only God can judge men’s operates .That atrocious contradiction induced me to hate also “his” God. If only Him, could judge men’s behaviors, why did he denounce my mother to a Court of men?!? - “

That regrettable question concluded the monologue of our guest, to which we had assisted in religious silence but with long live share.

While evoking his memoirs, that I imagined remote for forgetful time in his mind; above all speaking of his mother, in his voice a veiled tone of emotion had appeared.

And I don't know if I really perceived a mist in his eyes, ‘cause it  lasted only for a bit: after pouring a glass of water and drinking it with avarice, he fleetingly passed a candid napkin on his face, with which he suddenly cancelled any trace of it. Then he stayed immovably, absorbed in his sad memoirs, or perhaps picking up ideas to continue his story. George had followed him for the whole time with the chin supported  by the closed fists on the edge of the table. Without proffering a word he lit a cigarette and soon after pushed the packet to me. With peaceful and indifferent tone, Mr Winningoes took back on his speech.

-“The same day I knew by my teacher that I was the only heir of my mother’s estates, and that since the day of her death, he had been its honest and prudent administrator, as he would show to me in his detailed account.

That man, I had so much hated and blamed, now that his ungrateful charge had come to end, seemed to me good and comprehensive, and his words calmed for a few time my incurable pain. By now, however, I had also to think about my life, and in those places I would never succeeded in shaking off  my sad past. I begged the reverend to continue to administer my goods and I departed, to the discovery of the world.

2. to be continued...
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Sunday, May 6, 2018

My Mother Earth

My Mother Earth
Who knows where I've been in the last twenty centuries?
May be I was a roman soldier
guarding the Adrian Wall
where I met a pale blue eyes blonde love
to warm my winters
to show me love is anywhere
and I was scattered back
on some Mediterranean  coast
groping with the Normans
a new life, which is also
and again an old life;
like that I had as Greek's slave
before my manumission
when I captured those
I had been conquered by.
And when  I'll be searching
for other worlds
far in the skies
will I remember
 my Mother Earth?