lunedì 29 febbraio 2016

Dark World by Stefano Donno












It is disappointing that meeting beautiful
in counting the syllables of the dark world
which require to get the beautiful dress
and prepare the liturgy and the obvious disgust.

How much must die every day
because the breath send to smithereens
the lively and watchful eyes
who has a big appetite for Destiny
who thirst for good manners
resplendent with surprises and chased
including heresies of bestial features.

domenica 28 febbraio 2016

Gifts and arms by Stefano Donno


















Something i get it at my agethat losing is more need of findingthat the poet is beyond writing and over the manthat to live is to get used to a millenary darknessthat making art or review a frameworkit takes little or nothingthat silence has a humble peelas a blanket of snow on the fieldsthat just a few centimetersto see think understand.
Something i get it at my ageNow no sooner than my booksi do not write title author and datenow no longer a dream with open eyesbut i look up to the sky to not stay anywhere elsenow no more gift wrapping paperor symbols or odors.
I came to understand that it will take years and yearsto remove months of anxieties and expectations for escapeto a slow agony made of endless narrationsi now know that some nights the ghostsThey pay a visit to talk about their sufferinghung who knows how to oak branchesor the next park redwood.
Now i know what it feels like when you search forraise your arms above your headand the heavy feel like those of an old man.
Something i get it at my agesomething that has to do with the stars and cometswith colorful kiteswith the voices of your loved oneswith life in short, something that I can not sayout of shame or ignorance or laziness sad

sabato 27 febbraio 2016

Oblivion ... a silent song by Stefano Donno






















My song is rigorous and strong
meaty, dry breath
that fills the hearts of enchantment
mixed scents of dreams and muted hues
thin and strong and different neighbors
silent as fog or invisible splendor.

My singing is of a rare beauty
purses at every jolt of the heart
It does not have its wings
indeed he stops strongly in deepest abyss
and trembles at the thought of losing the smallest part
of oblivion.

My song transformed into mystical geometry
uncertainties and hesitations
look seamless future
trembling with very short memories and moments of lucidity
to maintain course

venerdì 26 febbraio 2016

I remember ... a poetry dedied to Grigorij Perel'man by Stefano Donno















I remember the beginning of the trip ...
for me and Grigorij Perel'man
it took was a simple paper sky
where to draw the wrists to the clouds
where to gather softness
black and necrotic patches.
It comes back to me every gesture
all those functions to calculate the pain
to contain the costs of memory.
I remember at the beginning of the journey
that Grigorij Perel'man
He asked me to write verses for him
crossing lies to him
to try to disperse
(If only for our friendship)
the fading fires of evening
where liquid delays and uncertainties
red as the blood of the veins
consume the impossible

giovedì 25 febbraio 2016

Spleen by Stefano Donno














I was silent for years
losing myself in useless exercises in style.

In all this time without feeling any doubt
i tried hard to find
for at least 300 times a day
sincere words or phrases of circumstance
able to witness
my huge trend for irony clumsy.

I often write down
on small sheets spread out my good intentions
even if the large amount of lies ...
it provides a catastrophic advantage
to all those indolent weaknesses
wise in their balance losses and revenues
insights and motivations costs and revenues.

One day, thanks to this discipline
i will assume a more decent control 

i will learn to regulate his heartbeat
i will talk less and say less nonsense
in short, I give a picture of me sweeter
leaving no room for laziness or
the wonder.

mercoledì 24 febbraio 2016

Blood and water by Stefano Donno

















I'm not a sad poet
my days are perfect
the sleep of the just comforting my nights
my eyes do not have the label water transparency
my hands smell blood
my lips do not harden to the little things.

I'm not a sad poet
which he sells for just his verses
my memory is iron
My will has the arc softness.

I'm not a sad poet
maybe because i wash once a day
maybe because my hair is gray
maybe because I address questions simple to north
on people's lives.

I'm not a sad poet
because I stopped watching the future
as a curse
because the fast smell of bread
by a rhythm to my expectations.

I'm not a sad poet
and in fairness the rest aside to write yet
love poems

martedì 23 febbraio 2016

Wild Storm by Stefano Donno


















One day the words we will see growing
long dry edge of night
cover distances and depths
they will praise the mercy
or small shoots that draw solitudes.

One day the words
blossom as reed buds
they will retain the light on the bedside tables
they will sing laugh
as if every smile
if only passion of fire.

One day the words will fall well
like November rain
burying thoughts
begin to grow unabated
between the pages of an old book
will dry tears
give relief and peace
while outside a storm

lunedì 22 febbraio 2016

The world of fairy tales by Stefano Donno


 










Where i live the words explode the tolling of bells
Sugar in coffee cups steal the joy and becoming wastes evening
where i live the word dripping down on his hands
without fuss
where i live breathe a light that consumes the distances
repeat endlessly that looking around suspiciously
while sliding down and down to the bottom
Where i live the words smudged walls
where i live even air has something to say
where i live the words they put in a box
and bury themselves under the trees
where i live is always walks alone
and sundays they burn nonsense
even as all around the lights
have sugar taste

domenica 21 febbraio 2016

Wake Up ... it's important! by Stefano Donno

























The dance of the stems
the evening breeze
color purple cheeks and eyes
he stops to give way to tears
It crumbles the memory of a spell
to the rhythm of the heart broken
pleading silence and asks for forgiveness
if in the memory there are many problems
that become soap bubbles or small precious things.

Each story is lost in oscillating distracted
between touches and strokes
with fatigue again takes unfair demands
and finally try the din of the senses
in feeding ever hidden joys

Prayer to my mother by Stefano Donno


























It 'strange to talk with his son words

hide from the heart that you look like.



You are the only one in the world who know the darkness in my heart,

what he would say and instead keeps silent out of shame for love.



So i want to tell you that you do not have to investigate strength

you should not have to ask if I'm wrong

your love for me is silent anguish and terror.



You are irreplaceable and my damnation

turns the page to loneliness among the thousands of lives that I forget

hour after hour, day after day

sabato 20 febbraio 2016

Ground Zero by STEFANO DONNO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


My mercy is at zero level
every hour spent becomes the strategic pride
and if i think there is a limit to everything
i am starting with a lump in my throat
all the joy that breaks shipwrecks
in small bites while the wind blows.

I now take off your shoes from your feet
with no certainty
that the day is finally over
or who has the good fortune for someone like me
gifts and kind words when i want to spend
without needing to consume
bounces or enthusiasm that lead straight to hell

venerdì 19 febbraio 2016

Fight by Stefano Donno













I wish to take part in the combat
i want to pretend i demand and lose consistency
back to deny the future
dissolve verses in form of crying
tear up pages and pages of books
just to make rubble
fight a thousand anxieties to nettle fragrance
that every day feeds forward
my meager guilt

giovedì 18 febbraio 2016

ORDO AB CHAOS BY STEFANO DONNO





















I have a short memory
or that random access
i just have to sweeten the rate
the same one that i hold in my pocket for years.

For months live like a vagabond in the discard pile
unroll delays and revelations to organize the escape ...

For months i like the infamous beasts ...
i fall asleep upset among lilies and roses devout
but fortunately your eyes distract me mild
from my meanness and filth in the balance between chaos and order

mercoledì 17 febbraio 2016

Ruins by STEFANO DONNO





















I remain staring reasons

distracted by the desire for God

scratch the glass with bare hands until smooth it

they eliminate stains and dirt from the memories

shake your belly breath

all around pain that is urgently

a shining word perhaps already in ruins.



I have always believed that ideas

they had no breath were voiceless

but now they learn that everyone does just the job

martedì 16 febbraio 2016

MIRRORS BY STEFANO DONNO
















Eyes and eyelids prevent the absence
the night is horrible even with some light on.

While thoughts occupy the mind
the mirage of an eternal and perfect rest
shaken by insomnia that corrupts the bed
mindless game of the mirror
while the loud barking of a dog
Pencil an open sores in his side
passions devoid of light with no glare

lunedì 15 febbraio 2016

PURE POETRY BY STEFANO DONNO




















Now rests well
observed for a few moments the memories between the cracks
that obscure the bitter path of night
while crowds to the sad boredom that kills
I go ahead and step counting
small things small objects that are poetry
and nothing more valuable just pure poetry

domenica 14 febbraio 2016

Grace and desire by Stefano Donno












size sunset the light grace
last light reflected in the desire to sparkle
buried in the iris the extent of appearing superfluous
full of light sweet desires clear dusk
while everything around you stops and the joy in the heart trembles
then everything returns as before and his voice breaking loads
thoughts of words works and omissions our fault
our fault our most grievous fault!

venerdì 12 febbraio 2016

DARKNESS by STEFANO DONNO














The margin tears easily
the horizon remains in the shadows
whispers traces of fate
keeping a beat that scares
and as night falls the soul empties
in a dead moment of nothingness.

At the behest of the Great Seal of Babalon
Totem of Revelation
The Great Seal of Baphomet
Rose Cross
the image of Harpocrates on the lotus flower
the image of Isis and Horus

giovedì 11 febbraio 2016

Redemption by STEFANO DONNO
















The moment confused the nearest obstacle
deforms the tragic talk of a dull thought
the words are dispersed along old routes centuries
the joint gap to a mystical need God
He leaves a bad taste in the mouth roar of a bewildered soul
and redemption is worth so little that forgiveness is entreated
and even hell refuses unnecessary parcel yield better separation

mercoledì 10 febbraio 2016

Z FACTOR BY STEFANO DONNO













Unlikely to relish day pendulous
the months the years querulous encrusted pylons that attendance
rather than betray the drift of the margins between pages lost
in looks that do not intersect in broken falls
never satiated in deriding the claims clumsy friends abjurations terse

It works hard every day, always in silence
it works hard every day in order not to say a word too
he works hard every day pocketing deficiencies and injuries
made of breath cotton candy in a vacuum
it works hard every day to retrieve errors and miseries
without any promise of atonement or exception