Fame

Sorry
I didn’t mean to hurt you
I didn’t mean to tear you apart
sorry

And all that blood
it was an accident
my teeth that beat
and your bones that creak
I didn’t mean to
I didn’t mean to
It was my hunger
my hunger

My hunger is
a holy sentence
my hunger is
my grateful joy
my hunger is
like a home
my hunger is
like a family

Cura

voi medici e giudici
esperti del dolore
e del piacere
voi con le mani
strette intorno alla mia gola
intorno alla mia gola

voi detentori di opinioni
delegati alla questione
con le vostre procedure
le domande da non fare
da non fare

non giudicate il mio corpo
non giudicate la mia schiena
le mie mani
e quanto forte
stringevano il lenzuolo

voi con le catene pronte
le vostre latte di vernice
mentre mi spiegate
che avrete cura
che avrete cura di me

So magic

When i’m walking
into a wood
in the midst of tiny pines
and giant ferns

when i’m walking
i’m feeling a little breath
that push inside my arms

my brain starts to freezing
my lips devouring bubbles
the ground bends
under my eyes

my nerves shaking
my fingers trembling
feel my stomach
expand and collapse

my flesh is tumbling
tumbling to the ground
my bones exploded
to choose another form

my body is coming
is coming to rise up
and grow up

and i’m feeling to shine

Steerpike

(freely adapted from Titus Groan, by Mervyn Peake, 1946)

He refused to allow himself to think of the sickening drop
and glued his eyes upon the first of the grips.

His left hand clasped the lintel as he felt out
with his right foot and curled his toes
around a rough corner of stone.

Biting his underlip
until it bled
freely over his chin,
he moved his left knee up
the surface of the wall.

he raised his head
and found himself in an empty world of roof tops,
he smiled.

It was a young smile,
a smile in keeping with his seventeen years,
that suddenly transformed the emptiness of the lower part of his face and as suddenly disappeared;
from where he lay at an angle along the sun-warmed slates,
only sections of this new rooftop world
were visible and the vastness
of the failing sky.

He raised himself upon his elbows, and noticed that
where his feet had been prized against the guttering,
the support was on the point of giving way.
The corroded metal was all that lay
between the weight of his body
as he lay slanting steeply
on the slates.

Steerpike, when he had reached the spine of the roof,
and regained his breath for the second time.
He was surrounded
by lakes of fading daylight.

Steerpike’s greedy eyes

The battle of Chapultepec

The edge of the earth rips open;
hideous omens rise above us;
the sky shatters over our heads
and falls on us in Chapultepec.

The Fate of the Year,
the true weight of the Year,
had to come down on our heads,
and we raised our voices
over the rocks of Chapultepec:
the Mexica are no more.

the root of The People
has been torn from the sky.
With shields turned to every side
we die in Chapultepec.
Our enemies bathe in glory,
our pain quickens their hearts;
our enemies delight in victory,
our shame throbs in their wrists.
The Mexica are carried off as slaves
to the four quarters of the earth.
We will climb the temple
with sacrificial banners in our hands.

Third eye Invocation

The oceanic mantle reveals a secret face
Hidden passage now I see

Through Perennial haze Of Sorrow
I’m just facing the pain of tomorrow

Even further, even deeper
Mysterious path that knows no traveler

Gigantic landscapes fill my mind
I drown myself with the greed inside

Third eye invocation
Proclamation of inner space

Unveiled perceptions lead the blind
A martyr of flesh that opens his mind

Turkish Kraken

(freely adapted from Kraken, by Alfred Tennyson, 1830)

Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

His ancient, dreamless uninvaded sleep
And far away into the sickly light

The Kraken sleep faintest sunlights flee
The Kraken sleep The Kraken sleep

From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.

Calm and silent, under the sultan’s feet
feed on the weeping tears
of revolutionary bees

Until the latter fire shall heat the deep
hen once by man and angels to be seen,

the sky darkens of murmuring thoughts
the sky darkens
In roaring he’ll rise
he’ll rise