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Salvador Dali - The Temptation of St. Anthony

Maybe someday…
or today maybe,
if only I did but maybe I am done.

Hope in tomorrow might freeze your steps,
better you wake up at dawn and trust your walk.

Doing wathever or whatever’s flip side,
it doesn’t matter ash will fade in smoke.

Many succeed and still they fail,
while others dare to fail and rejoice.

Trying too hard to find a purpose,
the purpose might end up owning you.

Fear and love await at the crossroads,
eventually they’ll find you so make them friends.

Thoughts evaporate to shape your dreams,
like clouds in the black coffee drawing circles.

Start and destination turn in cycles,
with mine you’ll cross but seldom meet.

You call me crazy to feel more real,
until I discover your hideouts one by one.

And to the wise offering full hands of oceans,
since the first wave already I was more curious.

To the grown-up fending behind adulthood,
still infant your soul until you will learn to fly.

And still hanging from your righteous answers,
I can marvel myself with more ferocious questions.

Measuring my distance from the stars,
not once I thought to be more drunk than you.

And it’s nice to know where my mind ends,
somehow the rhymes of a poem have to begin.

Son of men

Gesu Hero

An oak a man facing eternal,
strong-willed slits on the horizon

Keeping the gaze straight on the dark,
behind the stiff beard a smile with a smirk

They thought they knew you in the dust,
unaware you spanned centuries with your steps

In the hour of wind when the hourglass reverses,
the duel begins, ready to draw intense your senses

You look at death straight and fearless,
until the feeling of nausea disappears

A man who doesn’t know to protect himself,
but furious strikes foes down for my sake

That’s life an irony of fate,
rise again, goddamned memory.



Tender like a bamboo cane,
you survived space and time, with blood tattooed on your skin.

Splinters of a mirror reflect your face in a thousand fragments,
streams of experience expand into the one consciousness.

The wound of yesterday alive and open again,
you bliss the present pledging tomorrow’s gratitude.

Change is like a childbirth,
and fear paddles against the current,
while the water flows down the valley.

Enslaved to those who follow themselves,
once already you fled from madness in dismay,
but today’s caution looks even more insane.

If you knew that tomorrow will no longer be,
you know you’d choose her… beloved freedom.

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