A Beautiful Bubble


A come back
of an always smiling
Never aging
as a gift
From someone
I have dreamt of
Maybe an omen
Maybe a true knowing
of a friend
That became the self

As ancient
as one’s own history
is now back to me!

In its never aging
Always actualizing light
As a transparent ever cheerful
Rejuvenating and joy giving

It comes back to me!
It comes back to me now!

Through such
Line of connection
Life brings back
A beauty
In the form
Of a forgotten

Just falls
From the air

Yes just like that

And collapses
On my face
Like a wake up

And stays so
until I will get it
And open my eyes

Making it a lense of truth

Is it the bubble?
such beautiful Bathe of color?
or has it always been so

But who cares
who cares to question for the show?

When you know the answer
Without words
It is so
It is so

Ah yes
It is so
So is now
is so


Ribbon snake’s serenade to a frog hiding in a coconut shell

O sappy daffy incongruous frog
Waiting for a beauty queen
to be kissed by
to turn to a prince in your dream

You want some lessons
on art?
You want some lessons
on art?

then come to me
For ye it’s gonna be for free!
Oh come to me
I can teach you how to read
in manners that are non-slurpy
and slimy
As your automatic long tongue

I be a friend and a lover and a teacher
For the manifesto of our Love

We’ll read as loud as we can with our combined reptilian heart

Let’s shout until we silence
Let’s shout until we can be heard
as and by and for the silence of the spirit

Without defining Gentleness
to be assigned to any poetry

Let’s trespass these fake borders
of the image of our predefined Body
in our
As boring as can be
made of the phrase
Only clever birds sing it as:
“This has been done already”
Your shout would silence
My Palpating heart

Please do not misunderstand my
Love word
and traditionalize

As mushrooms grow
Under rotten
Of urban flats
or lies
La la la lies

and pathetize
Yes Pathetize
my words
Without understanding what they’d truly mean

When words
Combine to a phrase with the spirit
Truth shouts
but not the cynic

Like a poisonous
Made of the scared sound of your blood

which should have instead been sacred
by the earnest of our lovership

Without any of your definitions of poetic

You shout
You shout like politics
Which is meaningless
For true ears

A defined silence
has no power to trespass
Boundaries of conditioned
aesthetics of your
Learned poetry

Let’s dare to read love now
As plain and clear and straight
As can the truth of hearts be
without the need of any gelatinous stickers
or the chess board tattooed
Along the skin softness of
our sitting bones

Lemon Tree

I used to know a lemon tree
Standing alone
at the backyard of the gardens
beneath where a dear friend
flourished green plums

We got to know each other
On a moment
not so many hours left
to sunset

Maybe it was after some lunch and an afternoon nap

against such rules not even once I protest

maintaining to be happy
with whatever comes to me
whatever comes to me
to sustain
a peace appropriate to my role
in the family

Ah yes
my friends
still were there

Maybe a hidden cover of a candy
maybe a play of a shadow here and there
Where at other times other creatures
would play

A scary probability!
to wipe away for now
but not erase ‘the’-
‘Why would they hide themselves
In the corners of darkness?’

something to still discover later

while I used the time
to play secretly in a bed
where finally sleep could nurture me
always on the same set time
of the schoolless afternoons
of another summer holiday

One day after my nap or duty
and before dinner
when I was again
An idea struck me :

to try to climb
these very steep
perfectly squared
brick Stairs
to see
to which unknowing worlds it would lead me

from this far beneath
I always sense their bubbly trans

and the time has arrived
to test
that outguessed:

a beauty that
has already been preserved

into the shine
of the green plums

that gave it an existential strength

One of the many of my recording devices
For you never know in case times
If if
I would like to watch the same
as it has shaped itself
in my heart

I would look then
to the shine
on specific time
and retrieve these worlds
back to me

“Oh my dear friend your greens make me laugh again and no one can hear that
but you!”

“So I will go now to these secret worlds and No
I am not afraid
It is an important task
To prove I am not afraid”

“Mom is still busy
And until the time I will be back

I knew
The reality of these worlds
could be
dream-breakingly different than the bubbly
Belonged to the neighbors’ gardens
where I was not really supposed to be

but yeah as said
all grown ups were busy
at that time of the day
No one could see me
And so
I could peacefully talk to the not talking ones
before they could interfere us
and before I would need to reply them politely

so I went far up
and up up
and there I met this lemon tree

It was not big
Just a little bigger then me
These bizarrely straight leaves
are almost bluer than greens
although they look green
Shaped so ordinary
like a drawing of someone
who could only make a straight line
Too ordinary to be ordinary
That’s what I saw first
And that’s why I saw it maybe

I used to draw a lemon tree
kindly blown by the blue
of the wind
My visits matching
Towards the end of the days
was set open
Preserving a secrecy
maybe about giving her a company
A presence towards which she
always remained indifferent
Maybe about
Getting to know us or me better
By slowly understanding
why she felt so gloomy
And what feeling so

She was at a place where she was not supposed to be

Not knowing
Why she would never be able to grow fully
Lonely but respectful still
To the peculiarity I assigned to her

Her indifference
diffused into
That wind
defining a gloom of the day
would remain
Between us
until this day
to make me wonder
and to make
A bold memory