Echoes of a sad soul-8

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C9R3YJRP

The poet’s claim

 

The lambs lie down on Westminster

sacrificed by the shot dead

priest of nothingness faith

pushed by madness

moved by hate

sent by pretending prophets

who now are cheering up 

for more victims

in the pantheon web

of foolishness.

 

But two faults

never can make a why,

and violence can never be justified

even if you had a reason

to be spent

 somewhere.

  

Men of power,

for the sake of the True 

Merciful God

of all humanity,

please, put apart all your selfishness

and hear the poor poet

claiming for justice.

 

In London the 22nd of March 2017

Echoes from a sad soul - 7

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C9K9ZGDJ

Just let them live

I

Let them pass

Come on! Laissez faire, laissez passer!

Today is not time

To shoot people anymore!

Don’t you know is November the 9th 1989?

Today there is not time

To stop goods anymore!

Come on! Only one thousand dollars

Will cost you a plenty full track!

At 9 past 21 p.m.

The wall is falling down!

Laissez faire, laissez passer!

There are bound to be changes

For our lives further on!

It’s crashing down

Together with our illusions

Their false promises

The wrong secular hope!

Come on!

The wall is not hiding anymore

The totems of progress!

Let’s go worshipping

The glittering gods

Bounding ahead!!

II

Let them celebrate

Let them celebrate

the end of your world,

they want to celebrate:

the American dream is over;

they are celebrating

money growing over nothing;

let them celebrate

discovering your rootless brushes;

they need to celebrate

the burial ceremony

of criminal capitalism;

they 'got celebrate

the funeral

of greed octopus

which scrounges their people!

Let them celebrate

the dawn of new distribution

of richness of earth!

Let them celebrate

the end of your world.

III

Let them walk

Let them walk! They are marching for freedom.

Let them walk! They are not hiding anymore!

When people go out their homes,

it means they need to go

and show they are alive!

We need to be poor together

or to be rich together!

You, one per cent, you can't stop them anymore!

Richness is to be shared

while you keep the other ninety nine per cent

out of goods.

You priests of the profit,

criminals of finance,

embezzler of money,

cheaters of ever,

trappers of men!

Stop your police

and let them walk!

IV

Let them sing

Let them sing, all over the Country, let them sing!

Let them sing, they are the real voice of the Country!

Let them sing, in the name of liberty,

let them sing in the name of dignity!

Let them sing against speculation,

Let them sing against criminal finance!

Let them sing for the world is their world,

Let them sing for their sons, for their daughters!

Let them with the voice of the sixties!

Let them sing remembering flowers!

Let them sing for a new world to come!

Echoes from a sad soul - 6

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C99HPDG9

The drift of Civilization

(In the death of the poet Edoardo Sanguineti)

 

The green wood crashed

From the third floor down

while Edward

like dry wood

was left

two hours

waiting

without any help;

meanwhile Televisions,  radios,

newspapers, networks,

were babbling of heroes,

other wood green

sent to die

by pompous senators

Pharisees of the third millennium

in the name of a homeland

with no more fathers!

What kind of place

has become this Country

Where poets live and die

In the utter indifference

And the bitches

With their pimps

make the news

And by the new scribes

They enjoy wide coverage

In a frenzy of amps

Which seem to lead adrift

our civilization?

 

Echoes from a sad soul - 2

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C9HWH86T

Another trip for  Mr Shadow

I

It’s very hard to live my own life

Fighting against the inhibitions,

the limits, the taboos of my own time!

 

It’s really very hard to cancel my personal history,

chopping off every bond with my past!

 

It’s hard to change the idea

We have of ourselves,

forgetting   what  the others

believe   to know of  us!

 

And it’s hard again to change

Our idea of  the life,

seeking for trust,

not in the eyes of the other people,

but in the deep eye of our being.

 

II

It’s hard for me to proceed

Through this path of loneliness,

hoping to undertake one day

my trip to Ixtlan,

to bathe me in the sacred river,

to purify me of all my sins,

and  understand the mysteries of life,

smelling the magic flower,

to reach the eternal safety,

the apex of   knowledge,

the heaven of the ever green city  

where the seven gold doors

 will finally open their secrets!

 

And the soul will fly for ever

Through the endless worlds

Of the universe

 

 

                                                                                  In Sardinia, 1982

 

Remember

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07JL32VL5

Remember

 

Remember

 you are just passing through

the Earth

and  the world does not belong to you

but it's your body

that belongs to Earth;

Remember

that love has to be built

slowly,

while  passion

burns quickly everything;

Remember

that every man

has its own dignity

and deserves all respect.

Remember

of those who  sowed

when you reap;

Remember

to greet the sun

every time he gets up

and every time it sets down.

Remember

that you are light

which illuminates

the darkness of eternity.

 

 

 

 

Echoes from a sad soul-Volume 5

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C97786DX

The Flesh of God

Who were those women

Who screamed against God,

 against Manhood?

And I,

facing the world just then,

who was I?

Was I with women,

with God

or with mankind?

 Why do I hear now the cry

  Of those who did not see the Light

  like a guilt that oppresses my soul? 

  But who filled in the gaps

of the innocent dead?

  Why do not we understand yet

they were the flesh

of God?!

  And we all carry on,

  indifferent to the signs

of His suffering!

Echoes of a sad soul

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C8YY6R71

The Slacker

 

Maybe I was a slacker

Ever since as a boy

I dreamed of traveling around the world;

Yes, I had to be just a slacker

Because I never thought

To spend my time on earth

To make money, to seek power,

to become someone successful.

Just as a good slacker

I never even gave great importance 

To appearance, elegance,

luxury cars.

And when I was looking for truth

In the light of dawns and sunsets,

believing the poets

are best men in the world

And when I dreamed of flying

I certainly was a slacker.

Then, when I chose to rent to the school

My bachelor's degree

Convinced that our society

needs models of freedom,

imagination,  ideas,  respect,

proposals, and passions;

and when I couldn’t bear

hundreds of erupting volcanoes

of increasing  hormones

and I let myself be overwhelmed

then I was definitely a slacker.

And I certainly was a slacker

Even when, according to law,

I preferred love, dedication, affection

that no one counts in the

Gross Domestic Product!

when I finally chose

to consider more important

To be, better than   have,

To think, better than doing,

Meditating, rather than acting,

Even then I was a slacker.

And now that I've discovered

 the best part of life,

That nobody can take  away from me,

I persist and I am still a real slacker!

 

In Cagliari 2008

 

The mistery of my love

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07JL32VL5

The Ballad of my mysterious love

I

I have never loved,

   since loved me never

the women I loved

and I didn't love

those who tried to love me!

 

II

I firstly pursued

Impossible loves,

and when the overwhelming body

 forced me to love,

then I loved,

but it was not love;

 it was surely sweet discovery of pleasure,

flesh into flesh, fire with fire,

fury subsided into the abyss of life;

but it was not love.

III

Neither was love

the spasm which I waited

to see the air colored  

by your forms,

when it was enough for me

to feel your presence

ethereal and impalpable,

although present,

yet not mine

and it was not love.

IV

I'm still in search of you, sublime, decanted love.

Who are you fleeting present of God?

Are you for all of us or just for a few?

Do you really exist?

Are you a catcher of   hearts and reason?

Real or unreal?

Liar or truthful?

V

Still I'm seeking of you,

poignant love

unveiled eyes,

flying mate,

slave and mistress,

mother and lover,

mystery of life!

In Villasor 1980