Denise Milani Foreclose

the nature of desire 2

According to legend, Koyaanisqatsi, the glittering feathered serpent, would come from the east. Would recognize that emanated from the light skin. Would bring happiness, power, glory and eternal salvation for all.
For these reasons, great were the expectation and hope.
Aliens Cortez was not a god. It was a cynical theatrical. Not even the best. A small, dark man but ready to all the tricks. It came from the east. He brought with him only a shell, a plumed hat, ten men to the extreme and black fever virus.
When he appeared, the sun was up and pounded on the metal armor. Reflections, nothing more than reflexes. A game of necklaces and trinkets. That people, who also was not naive, he was blinded by the expectation. He did not need anything else to give form to desire. Cortez
And just two seconds to see the gold shining everywhere.
So, it was a matter of pure coincidence.
This has always been, in fact, the essence of the deception that has spanned centuries, seas, men, people to come up to you unchanged.
I'm not your god shining. you who you're building on the dress of your desire. Or better, it gives me hope that your form. I am just a hard shell kissed by sparkling midday sun. A mirage empty. An obscure passage of Cortez. A ghost.
Everything else, he has built your loneliness.

(In the lord 1519 several hundred men with a few horses embarking from Cuba on their way to the coast of Mexico. At the command of the expedition Hernan Cortez, who some years before he left Spain for gold, glory and fortune in New World).

I hope you enjoyed! For me to death!

I spotted this story in the blog "the home of suspended time" by Francesco Marotta, a really wonderful blog that I discovered recently.

... and as the author wishes, here is the link to White's blog!
http://www.biancamadeccia.wordpress.com.

... well I'll come see you, Bianca!

Besos!

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the White Madeccia My poems My poems

I asked you hands

but came to the veins

the absurdity of this happiness ( of steps)

and our passage along the walls-there-but keeps

me smooth (with the anxiety of river stones)

much too soon-as always-

and it will be because I still

bread ants

be that the ether does not bless

that contradicts what the odor-

our presence-and yet

we are given

(when you turn your back to my moon

but enchanting smile) and I

to track (your fate) the constellation lumbar

I tell you all ( what silent

I read sometimes vague) (and painted red

-all 'edge-) is a canvas that I stretched-skin-

(and white) negative traits

and I want to tremble (the sides) but

folds and wounds where-you-stop

where I stopped (my docile vertices)

t'ingoierei that the soul-from the white of your semi-

morendoti-baby-legs

opening my profile

(when I have) defined

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dedicated to all those who , in my opinion, we have believed ,
dedicated to Tiziana Cera Rosco , who wanted to give me the wonderful opportunity of dialogue with the public (and not only that),
dedicated, above all, Stephen Wilhelm, was always to be there for me always listened to Always read me, for having always tried to understand, made me more aware my presence in this world, in this life, for letting me get to wear my red shoes .

compormi and all-you-in the iris (implicit)

sublimating the symmetry of my pelvis

reflex (identical) of the disaster

yet: sap on your fingers

(for short the thread of eternity uninhabited)

-a torturer-tired that

-in front of my swamp-(execution)

the sacrifice of his blade

but what matter to me or moths

dying breath-in-d 'a concise sentence?

exhaled by the grooves (dermal bone)

-like essence of solvent-only look

(stylus in the vial) breaks up and slams

's soul (open ampoule insurmountable) (which detaches

tear) that looks

and are composed of I- your dash

along the carved-stylus-

will be granted only

narrate shapes

(I) calculated on the finished units perfect

of your palm (but) I'll let you-want-if

contemplation along the border

on strings-d 'arc-a prelude (undisputed)

the collapse of the antipodes.

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a love story - jovanotti


is beautiful this song?



I'll watch the neon-lit windows of

then you will feed them coca-cola and popcorn

inside a cinema
you tell lies about my

the world and those people then you

kiss with all the burning

with the lights off and we love on the grass and leaves on

on money and the fire inside the posts
prohibited
to the heart of the world like two lovers


like two lovers with nothing to do
who have nothing

that "a love story" I

will take care
because thou hast need you laugh out loud
and thank you when we get out early

by a local "right"

'll look down from the skyscraper of your killer heels and you'll ask

even if this time I'm the wrong one and we love


in a storm between the lights of downtown
between the pillars of salt
with the heart as two lovers crazy

like two lovers with nothing to do

who have nothing better
that "a love story"

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my poems

the memory-without-possession delete (do not save anything)

this is the world. things around. from now.

the world when I choose (and feel)

in recruitment. now.

pendant with your time -Measurement. from your pendant. time now.

inclined you: all my vertebrae - (pebbles) to your waiting-

you-hanging-after I have sorbed. open angle.

the funnel of a lifetime.

expectation (conscious that) will now .

[possession without a damn?]

your processions of pebbles-in-row

my pendant.