By Gabriella Garofalo

The stars are irked with the rough sea,
The nosey parker who always gossips 
About his neighbours, the dwellers in a dreary flat,
The wannabe failing lady, the ratty freaky guy,
The wilful rattle-brained girl
Bit fed up with books and words-
For Heaven's sake, aren’t you so lonely, 
You withered twig where no sap, no seed flows, 
A sad shadow at odds with bright days-
Ever tried to make friends with them?
Nope, ‘cause you gave heed to different voices, 
The percussive sound of mornings 
Eager to grab your forehead, maybe words, 
Maybe a migraine, as long as 
Births or awakenings end up dead-
So be the fruit but an impervious distance, 
An intractable difference, you won’t have any-
Oh, and careful, don’t you show it off, 
You Nature made of exile, smarts, and silence, right? 
The wind knows how to whip them, the bloody tricks
Of days you thought weren’t hungry, 
When clouds were hounding them, 
And your friend was hounding you, 
Rambling about sacred places, or silence-
But what can they do, the soul, the moon, maybe words, 
They conceived you among the ice, 
Only blue can settle this score-
And yet, look, hold on, can you see 
Those dark, hidden corners on the waiting list? 
Well, there is also, but who would have thought,
A bit of sky.


Can you believe it? 
Go grab daffs’n’ tulips, flowers keep mothers away
And never again those red blankets, please,
Blue is the thing-
They’re talking life, I know,
Words she can’t get, so  keep the sky calm-
My season, to shatter souls they choose you, right,
But why the sap, why seeds, and what’s your use,
But we are late, I know, and so are clouds, 
Shadows, roots, hidden in chilly rooms 
Even Atropos shuns them-
Long story short, my wandering moon, 
No use wasting time,
Drop it if words break up your womb,
Clouds look shrinking, and harsh taste your skies-
First thing first, a strategy for the days you live,
When you can’t grab my breath?
Well, gimme a sec, if souls, and green have no secrets 
For words seeking a break from light, your mind,
Hurry up, grab pronto cheerful nightmares, 
Colours, let skies in the rooms, look at them:
Wounded but free your hands are dancing, 
To warn you-
Please tell me I'm not swearing, aren’t I? –
Stronger than all gods and colours our womb
Shall strike.


Sometimes your days are words 
You simply can’t get, dreamy events
Jilting you lost, and a tad dazed- 
So, leave your mother alone in her demise
If blazing houses cry out, 
And other voices keep dwelling in you-
Yet never shall spring booze it up,
Shot down ablaze when picking up
Scraps of moon, wild thoughts, and water:
In due time they’ll get rid of her-
Yet blue jasmines, and honeysuckles, 
Are giggling, ‘cause they mistrust 
The promises from psycho lovers-
How funny and weird, innit,
It works only if light’s smashing dark, 
Listen, she jerks her time, but trusts
A diehard grass, even those harvests
So eager to yield her shelter -
And now, words, please drop out,
No consents, no deals, no sweet-talk-
Things are getting downhill, 
If a bloody primary blue is playing havoc,
While moon reads out her schmaltzy words-
On top of that, a pic, a blurred b/w, 
No reason to grab an age 
Green like apples or undergrowth,
See, not a moonbeam, but so real
This sudden blazing all over your soul,
Just think of a volcano’s lava,
Maybe debris from a ciggie,
Never mind-
How can you get the nerve to call it desire
This ice blue blazing, where winter
Is eagerly waiting to enjoy splatter, and show-
With a tub of popcorn, a thrilled anxiety,
An handful of words for you, sort of booby prize, 
Get it now? Hope so, as you don’t look all right.

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