Penguins

I wish I could hug the penguins of the Antarctic,

give them some of the warmth that I hide inside.

I wish men would be fulfilled by the beauty of things,

fully living colors, friends, love, the breeze of the sea.

I wish we speciated from dinosaurs, I'll fly to you any time;

just waves can travel wingless along seconds and width.

I wish my devoted smiles help you, as yours did with me;

the confusion will not collide, polluting the air you breathe.

I wish that The Revolution of the Earth will end those sad tides,

quickly cleaning up the mess that we have sometimes inside.

I wish no one would ever feel alone, insecure, scared, or unloved.

Naïf looks like a singing boy, are still there in the forgiveness age.

I wish the 4 species of penguins could be living together in peace:

Adélie, Chinstrap, Emperor, Gentoo share a difficult cold space.

I wish I was next to the sorrow's body to bring calm and quietness;

when I felt for the first time someone's true love, I suddenly cried.

I wish to be able to bear the entire world's pain but especially yours.

The portrait of your happiness is my joy — nothing else matters now.

29th of August 2017, Rome

© Illustration by Delia Hamer

Balter

Why do we have a mouth? An insane skill to talk?

I say impossible things that you'll not even think of.

My words went all over the floor and I cried alone.

Nothing else has to be said, I cannot even breath.

Let me borrow another brain, a short break up from mine.

I wish I was still in the beauty of misunderstanding signs.

Overrated, coward, screw my emotions, I can't stand them.

Tender poetry, lust is joy, affection is pain, love kills us all.

Don't listen to me, vexation will fade on fingers guitar's strings.

Agitation disappears under my hat while I read your favorite one.

A dip in the Baltic Sea, a jump on cold thin ice; break and repair.

Empty ships sail from me, I swim in this deep sunless room of mine.

I'll run after my fear, find your looks through other thousands eyes,

this unsatisfied frustration of destiny is a joke, an unpredictable laugh.

My hips move to some 90s shallow rhythm, let's dance, we'll all be fine.

A happy image of you smiling crosses my navel; what's the next surprise?

26th of August 2017, Rome

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Don't forget to get lost in the Empire's river.

Twain shaking looks make flimsy sounds,

untold lips reveal the secrets of the Moon.

How to do things right if there is no pattern for life?

Darwin's looks go all over me, 'What a pity! - he says -

Look at the swan's dance, something went wrong.'

White feathers turn black, depraved yet elegant.

The performer melts the disaster with a crescendo

while bare figures dance under the shiny Milky Way.

The arrangement is wrong, the moment even more.

A silent sky shows its solitude of endless dark stars

mirrored in the choreography of those naked souls.

Nobody had a gun, but we heard a shot, who killed who?

An interlude that made whoopers fly away, music stays

in the memory of the water that possess many decades.

The worn figure is sealed in a blue velvet saxophone tune.

Faces all around me have no eyes and mouths to show.

I meditate on Kerouac's road, no Nirvana rainbow, uh?

A man is alone, because he feels so, under the Sycamore's shadow

where a feminine figure follows the tempo of reversed words.

This impenetrable rain is a kind of distraction from nonsense pain.

There is an absence of structure for the bosom's keen desires,

eternal dialogues on a subject that not even the Lord understands.

My orbit is a forest of flowers, I live there as an eternal gentle sound.

24th of August 2017, Rome

© Illustration by AITCH