I don’t say. Sometimes I breathe hard and I wait for everything to pass. I don’t ask, I wait for everything to stop, for the wind and the storm to arrive. I don’t say. I do not tell of how many hells I have had and how many times I have drowned. And they weren’t bathtubs. And they weren’t toilets. They were tomatoes from kitchen dinners with screams and destruction. They were emotions that I was trying to restrain. He was a monster that I was trying not to let out. Words to forget everything that has happened, at the entrance, or in the bedroom, dawns, tears, screams and more screams. I have no respect for human beings. I love monsters because I know they are monsters. The human being, on the other hand, always has too many nasty surprises.
I divided the sky in two,
blind and dark visions,
colored petals attached to black bombs,
flower thunderstorms over the sea.
I took a ground weapon, disturbing a nuclear casket, making high-pitched sounds so as not to scare the birds.
Flying over the torment of tears, treasures of light,
opened in little drops of love.
Short words.
Distorted.
Any fate
has its own medal.
The absence left by Godot,
window among bare trees,
I have chaos, calamity, on my skin.
Two washers too many,
inside the walking theater.
I am free.
I'm proud.
I'm in the sky!
( ITALIAN RHYMING VERSION)
Ho cosà diviso il cielo in due, ciechi e visioni oscure, petali colorati attaccati a bombe nere, temporali di fiori sul mare. Ho preso un’arma di terra, disturbando uno scrigno nucleare, emettendo suoni acuti per non spaventare gli uccelli. Volando sopra il tormento delle lacrime, tesori di luce, dischiusi in piccole gocce d’amore. Parole corte. Distorte. Ogni sorte ha la sua medaglia. L’assenza lasciata da Godot, finestra tra alberi spogli; ho il caos, la calamità , addosso alla pelle. Due rondelle di troppo, dentro il teatrino ambulante. Sono libero. Sono fiero. Sono nel cielo!
I remember when I clung to pain as if it were the only way out or maybe the only thing I was able to feel to feel something my life has always been as if I was suspended on a thread with shortness of breath and the anxiety of falling and collapsing sinking into that abyss of me the terror of not being able to go back up of not being able to feel anything but anger e hatred of myself that kept me in a cage and the outside world was nothing but a reflection, a distant mirage of all that I could not achieve I’ve always wondered why I run and never reach what I really dream of? because I run fast but the others are able to overtake me in all circumstances? I’ve always been left behind because, too sensitive I feel it all too much and it overwhelms me breaks my heart in two and I stand there in silence in a pool of my own tears I also understand that my biggest limitation is a dark part inside me that makes me see the world black and devoid of possibilities even if yes, I know that’s how it is, largely. but not life, life always has something to offer you even in the darkest of times you can find light in the smallest and most banal things that pass before your eyes every day but you don’t have to you never have to turn away you have to stop and observe, appreciate, be grateful and love even the smallest blade of grass that you step on without thinking about it we are all fragile but the strength is in the brave heart who decides to exist consciously another day get up in the morning and know you are worth because it has no malice hate envy or resentment that is able to prove. and just breathe again so day after day to live.
Once upon a time, in a far away country, there was a dragon. A dragon like many others at first glance but you will soon understand that something about him was different.
Like any self-respecting dragon, it spit flames and like other dragons, it was covered with scales to armor it and "armed" with claws to attack and defend itself. But he wasn't as fierce and aggressive as he seemed to see him. Unpredictable perhaps.
It had almost a human soul, along with an animal one.
One day, an evil witch, for lack of more talented dragons, had to rely on him to guard a beautiful princess kidnapped in a nearby kingdom. The witch imprisoned the beautiful princess and put the dragon to guard the tower prison so that no one could approach her.
The dragon swore to the evil witch that no knight or prince would ever take that princess away with him, at the cost of his own life. And it didn't seem true to the dragon that he had a beautiful princess to defend and take care of. "Just me, thought the dragon, as unpredictable and out of the ordinary as I am!" His mind immediately began to dream of the battles he would have fought against untamed knights.
The first morning, upon awakening, the princess turned to him sweetly: "Good morning dragon, will you be watching over me then?"The dragon, hearing those words and for the first time that enchanting sound of the voice, was silent. Almost petrified. He was unable to utter a single word. He felt for the first time something between his throat and stomach, a melancholy he had never felt up to that moment. She was beautiful! Her sweetness was something she didn't believe could have existed. There was nothing so beautiful.
Thus began a beautiful story between the dragon and the princess. Time passed and a harmony was created between them that at times seemed inexplicable, also due to the nature of their being.
Weeks and months went by. Dragon and princess became friends. No, much more than friends. They felt it themselves, but neither of them had the courage to confide it to the other. On the other hand, it was a fairy tale and dragon and princess cannot live together. They both didn't quite understand this feeling and where it might lead them.
The dragon waited anxiously for the morning, only to see the princess open her eyes and hear that sweet "Good morning dragon ..."
They joked, laughed, played and talked. Yes, they talked a lot and about everything. Of what their past had been and how they imagined their future. But while the princess dreamed of a life with a prince, because the fairy tale wanted that, the dragon dreamed of it with her. Poor dragon, he had fallen madly in love ...
"Certainly not, thought the dragon, otherwise why in her dreams, am I not there?" It certainly did not take a witch, who read in a crystal ball, to know that this princess could not be his. She was destined for a prince.
But he dreamed and his dreams kept him alive. He knew it was a matter of time and that one day, someone would come and try to take her away!
Unfortunately, this was the reality. Or rather, fairytales and society are this and the poor dragon knew it. He knew he was determined, ready for anything, but perhaps not so strong to stop the knight he would have to face sooner or later in a duel. He was afraid of losing her. Fear that that day would come. Let him come who would snatch it from him.He had mentioned this to the princess, because he did not want to see her suffer and did not want to lose her: “Look, not all knights turn out to be princes. Especially in the soul and heart. Many assume only their appearance. They wear masks and shining armor, they prove themselves good, they write letters with trite phrases, thoughts felt and copied from the minds of other knights. And are you sure that a prince will be able to make you really happy? "
The princess looked down, but she felt she wanted her knight, her prince. She was convinced that this would be her great love, despite the fact that the dragon gave her all the security and happiness she needed. But which she evidently believed was not enough.
And that day came. That knight arrived in front of the princess's tower, that knight he had feared so much. That knight ready to challenge him and take away the princess, who, looking out of the tower window, was finally happy. He noticed it. And he saw his eyes full of joy greet that knight!
Why, thought the dragon, why is he so happy to run away with a stranger? Why didn't her eyes look at me the same way? Why didn't he believe in my love? " A series of questions that he could not answer and now there was not even time to think. He had to fight and enforce the oath made to the witch! He realized that he was ready to die in order not to see her go away with someone else. Also because his heart would have died anyway.
For the first time, the dragon found himself in a fight. It really should be said that he fought like a dragon, with fire, claws and tail swings! But nothing to do, the knight's sword and shield made the difference and, in the end, the dragon had to succumb to his opponent. But it was not the wounds inflicted by the knight that hurt him so much, but seeing the princess running towards him, hugging and kissing the stranger.
Nothing was comparable to the pain he would never want to feel again. No physical suffering could have come close to that experienced at that moment.
But fairytales are like that. He was the dragon destined to perish and she, the princess destined for her brave knight. And he, poor dragon, was certainly no exception.
Now the days followed one another, sad, and the poor dragon was now defending a tower without a princess. There was no moment when he didn't think about her and how she was spending her time. He hoped he would come back. At least once in a while, to alleviate his absence, even if it was "just" a simple dragon. She would have liked to better explain all her love to him. Those words that he had never been able to say completely. Until the end. It would have been enough for him to hear even his "Good morning" in the morning. And to see those beautiful eyes open to be a happy dragon. But she wanted more. The company and love of a dragon would not have been enough for her.
He had lost all hope of seeing her when one day, from a distance, he saw her on the path that led to the tower. It was her!!! He couldn't hold back the joy. She had come back to him !! Little did he care that she was gone, he was too happy to think about it. He had already forgiven her even before he saw her! He took off and reached her making her climb gently on her back, laying down on the ground.She walked over to him, and hugged him tightly. Nothing could be like that embrace and nothing could be more powerful. He didn't understand what was happening to him, but he felt a strange liquid leaking from his eyes. He had heard of "tears", but he wasn't sure they were those, because they said they only came out of his eyes when he was sick. And he was happy instead! He was the happiest dragon in the world !! Of one thing he was sure, those tears would be able to put out even the mightiest flames of any dragon in the Shire.
She hugged him again. For many more times after that day.
The princess told the dragon what happened and how different that knight had been. The dragon held her tight and over time trained to become even stronger and to protect her from other knights who would come in front of the tower to take her away. The next day, he saw her still a little sad, he hugged her and said:
“I will never be a knight or a prince, but I swear that I will give you all of myself, and I swear that I will always be there for you and that you will always have a place in this tower to feel at home. Yes, of course, this tower will never be a palace or a castle and I will never be a prince, but what I will give you, no one else, will ever be able to give you. This is the only thing I can promise you my princess! "
She hugged him tightly and again that liquid substance came out of the dragon's eyes. And for a moment, he was pretty sure the princess had wet eyes too. The princess was different now, she seemed to worry about "her" dragon and with every winged reconnaissance turn, she would tell him: "Be careful, come back soon." And he was happy with those words. Happy that "his" princess cared about him.Their life flowed together, joking, laughing and talking about everything. The dragon knew that he was not in the princess's dreams and that perhaps there never would be. But he was happy anyway. Glad she was there with him.
It all lasted until another knight arrived.
And everything was repeated as the previous time. The fight, the pain of the dragon, she who goes away with him, he who was not what he seemed to be and ... She who returns to him again and hugs him.
And so it happened for other times. She slowly began to realize that no knight was as beautiful as her dragon and that no one would ever love her so much. He believed he was finally happy. But not completely. Until, he came ... Well, he was different from the other knights. He had a white horse, he was handsome, blond hair and blue eyes, just like his suit. Yes, it was him. It was prince charming. The one feared by all the dragons in the world.
The princess saw him from the window of her tower and was immediately struck, fascinated. He was not like the others, and this the dragon immediately warned him.
The dragon was afraid of losing her, just like the first time. He knew that if he was defeated, he certainly would never see her again. This was a prince, he was not like the other knights.And then, he turned that fear of hers into anger. He fought with all his strength and, the prince, never would have believed in his life to fight against a dragon so strong and fearsome. It almost seemed like she had something personal with him. The dragon pleaded with him: “Go away !! She is my princess! Don't take it away from me! Get out!! You won't love her half of what I love her and you won't give her half the attention I will! "
The prince could see the anger in the dragon's eyes, his fear of losing the princess. It was an incredible duel. Both arrived exhausted, but as in all respected fairy tales, even in this one, the prince was victorious and the dragon defeated. The beautiful princess went away with her prince, this time not before looking one last time at that dragon lying on the ground, exhausted from the fight. The dragon felt as though his heart had been ripped out. And this time, looking into her eyes again, he was sure he saw a tear streak down the princess's face as she looked at him for the last time. The dragon, with the last strength he had left, took and flew away, to hide his tears.
After several years, the dragon is no longer the witch's slave and watches over her princess, prince and their son from afar. He will always watch over them and especially her. About that woman who could not live and who, like in fairy tales, was destined for another life.Now I could conclude this story with the prince and princess who "... and lived happily ever after". No, because this is not a fairy tale like any other. And happiness is not enclosed in a "happily ever after". Happiness is something else.
And the princess noticed it too, every day that passed and every evening at sunset, when she left her castle for a moment. She looked at the horizon, while a tear streaked her beautiful face, always hoping to be able to see that dragon to which she had given her heart and with that dream of being kidnapped by her only love. The Dragon! She who is now sure that she has always loved him, but that all the fairy tales of this world have always prevented her from doing.
I said goodbye in the end, I counted the petals, the drops of frost, I even counted the clouds. I said goodbye but didn’t leave. It was all still there, leaves, stones, boots, sparrows. I couldn’t nest on a branch, to be human means to build. But I don’t want to build, concrete and tears, and distorted iron. I said goodbye but remained like a thread of heaven, like a stringy mist, like a sovereign bride. Mud and petals, roofs, twigs. The sparrows and I are the same.
The sky written inside the chest, where a snake bites my heart. Outside breathes the gold but inside the blood languishes. I was like her treasure, I shone with crystal clear breath. Past. Turned. The soul counts the steps behind the anguish. He chases people and the sea of ​​nothing. Spasms of the rain. The grass blades bend but tomorrow they will be straight again and the same as before. I turn my face, the body sends messages, the code is always the same. A part. One condition. Meditated with a strange thought. Like a karma video. It is important to look at it and understand what could have happened.It’s strange what I feel inside of me, I have this strange feeling that he doesn’t want to leave me. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I can’t understand what I’m getting. Anxiety? Could be. Nervousness? Mashed potato. Stress? I do not know. The fact is that I can not understand, I can not think and above all I can not speak. I don’t want to overwhelm people with my problems.Sometimes I think of those moments when I felt emotions such as sadness, melancholy, pain … Many of us push away these moods because they are negative, yet a smile is more sincere after a cry … Maybe it is it is the sincerity that is frowned upon, in moments of weakness we really show what we are and it is scary for many to show their face without being able to hide … This is why no one shows his mood anymore, we all now want to hold back the suffering within us, while this corrodes and poisons us.
Heart night. Heart moon. Mystery illuminated by the dream. The thought tears. Every morning it opens one day. It hurts to wake up. Having to live in human sleep. A bright and perky twin. While you are still sleeping. An efficient and hardworking twin while you laze in the sheets. A slab of hearts. Crushed. I went in from the back. Walking on the carpets with holes in them. The rooster crowed. The rain was coming. Candles dropped from my eyes and the light touched my green irises, coloring the meadows of your feeling. I have chosen not to participate in the life cycle but to remain in nature. From your doors to my doors a hanging wire grows, almost a vine. Profane. A darkly severed scene cut by a skeptical director. That you want a happy ending is obvious but my end is always cynical. Heart night. Heart moon. Mystery illuminated by the dream. The thought tears. Every morning it opens one day. It hurts to wake up. Having to live in human sleep. A bright and perky twin. While you are still sleeping. An efficient and hardworking twin while you laze in the sheets. A slab of hearts. Crushed.
It's true I often burned my paintings, notebooks, books, I burned to forget that I was an artist. To forget the power to create from nothing. It was exhilarating, demeaning, tiring, it was destructive to me too. But my life was fire, fire lit every day. Now there is not even the ash left. I have burned souls, I have burned whole nights, burned words and loves. All together incinerated in a moment of sublime beauty. The green fire.
My green fire guided me. It was night, it was day and for me it was always life. But it doesn't burn forever. Eventually we turn off.
Eventually the coal becomes blacker. Very black. You find it in the walls, inside your inner walls, and you always get dirty every color you try to trace on your door. But Black crosses the threshold, reaches you, takes everything, burns you completely.
She was the one in the photo, holding a bouquet of flowers and a red hen’s crest on her head. It was she who acted among the frightened girls. Hamlet hadn’t hesitated either in his gestures or in his voice. And she continued to play a role that was not hers: the good girl who goes out of her way to meet her father’s expectations. A studious pupil, a caring daughter. Never any drift or dangerous friendship. Never any friends who are too annoying or a boyfriend who is too jealous. Never any of that. Only music and art, mixed with the tears that often bathed his pillow. He loved his mom and dad. He went out of his way to make them happy. And her little sister also loved and often played with her and never teased her. Growing up he had kept that naive and innocent look, that beautiful vivacity of one who has not known evil. Yet Hamlet knew evil from an early age, when a man took her innocence. Her nightmares were frequent and she did not know who that man was and she could never see his face. Maybe it was the shadow that appeared in her paintings or maybe she lived next to it without knowing that her executioner was the one who fed her. The executioner was always present. The executioner who had destroyed her at the age of 4.The needs of an artist are different from all those of others. Of course an artist eats, sleeps, goes to the bathroom. He may have things and people he cares a lot about. May have interests and hobbies. But one thing distinguishes him profoundly from all other people: the need for stimulation. An artist feeds his art from himself and from what he sees, knows and experiences. Visual, mental and empirical stimuli are deeply necessary for every artist because in the absence of these his creative lymph dries up. In fact, if an artist is not put in the conditions of being able to have these stimuli that satisfy his needs, he will slowly fade away. His imagination, not being nourished, will become dry and will find it difficult to give him the input for artistic creation. Just as an animal dies in its instincts if placed inside a cage, an artist dies in his creative life if he is put in conditions that are not favorable to the expression of his artistic talent. Fantasy is like a plant and must be fed with the water of stimuli. If these are lacking, the substance for dreams is missing. It lacks the energy itself to create other dreams and other works. So for this reason it is sometimes said that an artist cannot live life like the others and the same things that others are enough cannot be enough for him.
When I speak and say something, I am never understood. When I speak and say something I am not listened to because I do not speak on video. I write and speak. I don’t record videos. Those who make videos perhaps have a better chance of being heard and understood, even appreciated by everyone. The videos are more followed. I am never taken into consideration because I don’t start talking in front of a cam, I don’t show my tits, I don’t whisper, I don’t blink, I don’t talk about fashion and make-up. I feel very frustrated about this because in this society only videos matter. People want to see someone, fantasize, imagine. I don’t show videos. I speak. But I’m not understood.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 