My poems in English (Update at 08/08/2012)

In this page i present to you some my poems, translate from italian to english. Thanks to my friend Giovanni Guarino who helps me in this difficult job. Have a good reading!
That's all FOLKS!!!


Night shadows
moaning and lightning.
Silence of repeated things.
Lost things in the voice
Of the thundering noise.
That silence which sounds
as a swish of a
run over a paper sheet:
flow with the lightness
of the wind’s breath
pushed by wind itself.
Supported by the same
Modest, never attempt
by anxiety to be chit-chat
she aspire at the omnipotent
universal hall
which rules quiet
the symphony
of forgetful

Silence is just passed:
as usual unheeded
by the man’s substitute
totally stunned
by the frenetic roaring.
By his disgusting
Broken by few vain
Debilitate by the childish
chattering of gossiper and gossip.
Silence returns
to be
the lethal assassin
of the mad
of the child
of the foreign carer frightened
by the expiry of residence

Silence returns to live
his valleys
his inaccessible mountains passes
his never-ending
ecstatics pauses.
His eternal soliloquy
expand itself
in the sidereal darkness of a
by a long time overpowered
in which like absolute
go around lonely
ours mute

OLD (13/12/2005)

I am demodè, vintage,
outdated, obsolete, outworn and old fashioned
in a word, old.
I’m not interested in vain frills
of human vanity
made of body sculpture,
nail art, body art, rowing,
Fuck them all
with their aerobics’
their macrobiotics foods
and the veget “arian” ism
and all their decisions
take in order of style and fashion.
A unique solution to the “grotesque”
which rules and commands on our lives:
why don’t we shoot ourselves together
like in Uganda!?!
A great collective suicide
and we eliminate ourselves
making a please to mankind
unchaining it from false axioms dictated to us
from fashion of these days,
from advises of false experts of clothing,
food and wine, interior design
or inwardness of insides
deposited on abattoir’s pawnshop!
To the slaughterhouse!
Let’s cut them in pieces and
hang their meat.
A grind-mince-cripple-destroy
meaty cells
carriers of protein contents
and donor of new exuberant strength.
Under limoncello effect.
Maybe another grappa.
Maybe we get it over and forget
building’s grayness which surround us,
which wrap around and get us high on great and desolating
grayish mood
giving us new morning made
of creative smog distorting reality deep-rooted in centuries
and driving people all around the city
seeking new opportunities to produce
green color bucks!

PRAYER (07/08/2004)

Graphically far away.
Empty cradles
and little babies run away
from clutches
of unmotherly moms
being not kind
and not sympathetic
at all.
Nothing is all they want to present
As the endless hit on a computer keyboard
that compose depleted-uranium letters.
I put a wordbreak whenever I feel
the need.
Never respect metric impositions as rules
to step over
and even if it sounds bad
I don’t dislike it.
Purists of voice
and letter
compare to
“the pure-hearted”
can’t resist the impact.
On average i’m pissed at all.
Writings on a white wall
are worth as
the first experiences
a dude collect.
The first coins
given to you as an handout
in a dark corner of a square.
Lone and feverish.
Whirling shocked
and laid down to rot
in a powerlessness
that stay inside me
in a latent state
like hiding raw energy
always ready to come outside
in the hard times
of existence.
Thus spoke who you want.

VAIN LOVE LETTERS (03/11/2004)

Despite you are so
I can’t find words to dedicate to you
‘cause love in me
is over
at this time.
He comes back on alternate phases
like cars’ numberplates
circulating on an up and down way.
Flashing shields made
of ephemerals words
clash against your weapons made
of extreme perfidy
and freezing and false cunning.
Smiling harpy made of good hopes
and pleasing appearance.
Carrier of illusory happiness.
Apparently you seem
a kind fragile and paranoid
Easy masks
too much easy to wear
on your quiet features in the right
Lovable and odious being
I would you in my bed now
even if I know that at the end of the
I would like to cut your throat by myself
to prevent you to speak.
To prevent you
to say things
which long since
sound to me boring and repetitive.
Enjoy your flings
but don’t tell me about ‘em.
Hurt me sometimes
but don’t let anything bother me.
Experienced at doing all that
I hate or I don’t want.
I’m grateful to you to be not here
my darling.
Nevermore love letters.
Nevermore sweet words to you.
I know you are not interested in them.
You find them vain.
Much better.
Saved effort.