the end

this is the end
beautiful friend
this is the end
my only friend,
the end

circus lights

more light, more heat
are you asking me
to take you, hold you, show you more
more light, more heat
if you're asking me
i'll be there, when these circus lights go out

worth the price

stairway to heaven^-1

oggi è domani è oggi

... se anche noi, ogni tanto, ci ricordassimo che è giustappunto verso una fine comunque ingloriosa che corriamo, può darsi che passeremmo molto più tempo a mangiare dolcetti che invece dovremmo serbare, piuttosto che angustiarci l’oggi impedendoci di fare qualsiasi cosa in nome di un domani che non si capisce bene quand’è che arriverà (arriverà?).

[original here]

suo gân ~ part II

Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen
Gura, gura ar y ddôr
Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig
Sua, sua ar lan y môr
Huna blentyn, nid oes yma
Ddim i roddi iti fraw
Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes
Ar yr engyl gwynion draw

suo gân

Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron
Ni cha' dim amharu'th gyntun
Ni wna undyn â thi gam

look no further

til death do us part

and even then
maybe not

remember the tinman

there are locks on the doors
and chains stretched across
all the entries to the inside
there's a gate and a fence
and bars to protect
from only God knows what lurks outside

vela/r/s/e

el cuarto de Tula, le cogiò candela

se quedò dormida y no apagò la vela...

this night

there are things/i have done/there's a place/i have gone
there's a beast/and i let it run/now it's running my way
[...]
so take this night/wrap it around me like a sheet
i know i'm not forgiven/but i need a place to sleep
so take this night/and lay me down on the street
i know i'm not forgiven/but i hope that i'll be given some peace

the marriage

fall

sitting on a platform

i could wait around all year...


should i...

should i...

... leave?

chasing pavements

should i give up
or should i just keep chasing pavements
even if it leads nowhere?

or would it be a waste
even if i knew my place
should i leave it there?

fallen

Waiting on an angel / One to carry me home / Hope you come to see me soon / Cause I don't want to go alone / Now angel won't you come by me / Angel hear my plea / Take my hand lift me up / So that I can fly with thee / And I'm waiting on an angel / And I know it won't be long / To find myself a resting place / In my angel's arms / So speak kind to a stranger / Cause you'll never know / It just might be an angel come / Knockin at your door / And I'm waiting on an angel / And I know it won't be long / To find myself a resting place / In my angel's arms / Waiting on an angel / One to carry me home / Hope you come to see me soon / Cause I don't want to go alone

was i mistaken?

history repeats itself.
14 years later, but still.
jump on the rollercoaster, this ride was paid in advance.

takes two to tango

now i send back letters from the wasteland home
where i slow dance to this romance on my own
it may be two to tango, but boy it's one to let go
it's just one to let go

shelter

When the sun shines, we’ll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be a friend
Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella
You can stand under my umbrella

i leave my bed unmade

i leave my bed unmade
every time i enter the room, someone different is making it
someone who stays for a while
sharing a word
or just a gaze
worth a million discourses
we speak the language of dreams
they come from distant days
wearing clothes weaved with tears
of abandonment and fear
they enter with the breeze of summer days
of a world that doesn't exist
the leftovers of dreamless nights
companions of fearless times
ghosts of long-gone days
they don't stay long (i wonder why)
but after all
they never leave

how much for a ride?

spinning carousel returns the same old horse again
ramble on and on, the thoughts that fill my head
sometimes i wake up, there's nothing there but emptiness
so i search myself for what there was to do
cause she was his lover, she was his friend / he was her everything, someone to depend / when she wakes up in the mornin', and all his things are gone / she looks into the mirror, thinkin' what did i do wrong? [...] everyday has its ups and downs, you think you're lost, you will be found / most of us want the same old things, someone to love, what it brings / i know it's hard, it gets tough sometimes, you gotta hold on, like a carousel / going around and around and around and around...

follow the light

prison break

trapped

tempus fugit

4/7

of something

so precious
so unique
so beautiful

all is left

is ashes

'cause you bleed red and so do i

h2o

cold water, cleaning my wounds
a side parade, with a single balloon
i'm done with this, i'm counting to ten
blue as seas, running to them

i feel like i am watching everything from space
and in a minute i hear my name and i wake
i think the finish line's a good place we could start
take a deep breath, take in all that you could want

til it runs dry

i never knew the taste of blood till now
it's clear i never should have known
breathing fire was never this much fun
so there's a dark side in us all

keep walking

the only way out is through
the faster we're in, the better
the only way out is through
ultimately

protect me

i can't fly
when it rains

save me

don't let me
drown

ohm is where the heart is

I couldn't tell you why she felt that way.
She felt it everyday.

Her feelings she hides. Her dreams she can't find.
She's losing her mind. She's fallen behind.
She can't find her place. She's losing her faith.
She's fallen from grace. She's all over the place.

She wants to go home, but nobody's home.
It's where she lies, broken inside.
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.
Broken inside.

20/20

this fountain of regret,
this looking back with twenty-twenty
torturous hindsight
if i knew then what i know now
this mountain of remorse
won’t repeat with my understanding
this wouldn’t have happened
if i knew then what i know now

cycles

when i remember bygone days
i think how evening follows morn;
so many i loved were not yet dead,
so many i love where not yet born

[o.n.]

cum tacent, clamant

hopefully...

... today it will be over.

somewhere, over the rainbow...

los angeles

[photo by john hesketh]



i want to be an angel...

~ two suicides ~

roadside

and tell me how i'm supposed to feel
when all these nightmares become real
'cause i don't know
...
so leave me on the roadside
and hang me up and out to dry

[r.a.]

if you could read your life
like a story written by someone else

what would you tell yourself to do?

the ghost post

what do you do when you have an image that would pair perfectly with a portion of text...
and you cannot use either? why? because it gives it away, because it would take vulnerability to a whole new level and i don't think my skin's thick enough for that. yet.
you get this: a ghost post. and every time i look at it, i'll think of the unposted photo and the unposted text, one floating before my eyes, the other whispered in my ear. what will you think of?
or a sign. of? or is it yet another one i'm imagining?

depending. on whether you take the ghost post as something you want to say, but don't have the words for, or take it as the sign that you should not even bother looking for them.

follow?

if heaven and hell decide
that they both are satisfied
illuminate the no's
on their vacancy signs
if there's no one beside you
when your soul embarks
then i'll follow you into the dark

i'll follow you into the dark

objects in the rearview mirror...

... may appear
nicer
than they are...

e il naufragar m'e' dolce in questo mare?

tu portami via
dai giudizi cattivi
da questo abbrutirsi
dentro a riti banali
insegnami come si fa
a non sentirsi di troppo
e a non avere sempre dentro
il mare d'inverno

life isn’t about
waiting for the storm
to pass.

it’s about
learning
to dance
in the rain.


vuoi ballare?

E-soul

I listed my soul on eBay. I set a very high reserve price (the secret one, the minimum acceptable amount to be reached for the sale to take place). I can let you in on it: a million euros. I got the idea from an old Peppone and don Camillo movie. The priest persuades a communist to sell his soul for a thousand liras, “since you don’t believe it exists anyway.” In the end, the man begs the priest to sell his soul back to him. I was sure of myself, even though I had just finished reading an interview to an (alleged) actress, titled: “Even clams have a soul.” She wasn’t a mussel, so what did she know?

Right after I listed my item, I started getting the first small offers. The usual curious, penniless folks. However, someone posted about it on blogs, and soon it appeared on websites, TV, and even newspapers. “A guy is selling his soul on eBay.” Offers started pouring in. 300,000 from Colin Powell, who lost his own convincing the UN that Saddam was preparing the atomic bomb. 400,000 from Alan Sorrenti, who used to be a serious singer. 800,000 from Berlusconi, “then I’ll give it back to him, poor chap, I do it for him, in my infinite kindness.” 850,000 from the Pope, because one thing is to evoke something, another is to show it in a glass jar from the window in St. Peter’s (“p.s.: I’ll pay double for the whole Trinity”). Finally, one million, as I wanted. From an unknown buyer. The devil, most likely.

I got an empty box, put a bow on it and sent it to the buyer’s p.o. box. I got credited a million euros on my bank account. The day after I, I, bought a small boat, a Ferrari, a Rolex, ten tailored suits and a platinum nose-hair trimmer. At that stage I realized that, believe it or not, I had, after all, sold my soul.

[http://www.repubblica.it/2003/g/rubriche/naviinbottiglia/e-soul/e-soul.html]

you're not a person, you're a disease

you made me regret being helpful
you made me regret being forgiving
you made me regret giving another chance
you made me regret trying to forget
you made me regret being patient
you made me regret trying to do the right thing
you made me regret being me

all this life that you've been taking
deep inside, my heart is breaking
broken home from separation
don't you know it's violation?
it's so wrong, but you'll see
never gonna let you take my world from me
the world outside these walls may know you're breathing
but you ain't comin' in

when (and if) the cracks in the shield become wide enough, when i can't contain it anymore, when it starts to ooze, you better brace yourself.
it's coming.
it's after you.
and it won't be pretty.

'nuff said

i know, i know, it's shameless self-celebration. whatever.
but you know what? made me laugh.
and that, in and of itself, is quite an accomplishment.
(the fact that it was written on a semi-official document definitely adds to the hilarity)

1

you saved my life
i wasn't there to save yours

i'm sorry

i hope you can forgive me
because i know i can't forgive myself

buio

hardly more than a blind woman
sitting alone, silently, in a dark room
senses alert, looking for a black cat
searching for something which isn't there

vibrate

my phone's on vibrate for you

god knows what all these new drugs do

i guess to have no more fears

but still i always end up in tears

[r.w.]

the verge is a few frustrations to your left

it's in times like this that i wish i had the linguistic (and mental) ability to regurgitate all the anger and frustration and... and what? if i can't even put it into words. and why anger? against who? frustration, well, maybe. sit at a table, smile, be my better self, introduce myself with witty expressions that will make you smile and maybe even think i'm funny but i'm just trying to... to do what? the message is not in the words, read between the lines ~ why do you want to know who i am? what i do? it's inconsequential, i despise what i do, and what i really do, nobody knows, it's mine, do you really think i care about this? that your pretentious, empty words really make you important in my eyes? that i will look at you in awe? that what you do matters to me? that your pompous abstract lucubrations define who you are? i know that my priorities don't match yours, what you deem so lifesaving, your seemingly vital meetingspaperstheorybusinessbureaucracymoneyappearances and whathaveyou, hey, be my guest, i can gladly do without that, i'll trade all of it for a pair of eyes and a smile, the unmediated, raw, gut-wrenching, heartbreakingly painful, tear-jerkingly sad human side of life, the only (valuable?) trace i want to leave of me ~
leave a mark, sell an image. i'm not good at that. it's heartbreaking to be so fake at times. i swim in my green glass, anchored to the bright, plasticky red of a solitary cherry. no pit, we match. self-involved or self-pitying, the difference at times is so thin, see-through like an indian blouse that shines in an unforgiving sun. i want to be saved by tea. i know i was supposed to offer, but i didn't, and i feel guilty now
stop hinting at it, will ya? stop looking at me, will ya?
but at the same time, i can't let her in
please stop, dinner is turning into a nightmare, stop
i can't take it, it's overwhelmingly saccharine. i can drown in lemons, not in sugar. if only they were red. and my nose stopped bleeding. overflow?

sanity is relative.