EL CULTO QUE AME`

 

I always wondered at a man who had utter contempt of his mortality,

Until I met him that preached by the river.

He was ever in the company of his little goblins,

Kind creatures and slaves to his whim.

When I met him, he looked at me as if I was a burst of air,

Nothing more than a passing wind.

His eyes scraped at my skin,

Made me feel like unrefined Kapok straight from the rainforest.

He welcomed me into his arms,

I ran to him seeking meaning and a cause to be remembered by.

Long did I serve him, for a long time I fell in love with him;

He was everything a girl could want and everything a man could ever be.

I persisted in my obsession and took him like a drug every other time I felt sick.

I have seen on the telly many like me, mad, obsessed, in love and unaware,

I loathed them.

Soon I forgot about them,

Soon I felt no pity for them for they were the enemy.

With their foreign gods and foreign cultures and foreign filth.

The preacher assured me that they were all very necessary

He told me that I should not think of ways of getting rid of them.

Singularity is not natural, complacency is degeneration.

Focus on not being like them, focus on hating them, he urged.

I fought their spirit and out of my spirit became the spirit of hate.

Not to kill the ideal but to kill the poor souls attached to it.

To make them afraid.

To make them suffer and whimper at my sight with dread.

To make them die and wish for death more than the starved wish for food.

One day he had a meeting to attend that he said would change everything.

He left me in charge of the river and the goblins.

‘What is this meeting?’ I asked.

‘A conclave.’

‘Are they making you Pope?’

‘Sweet Child, no…not that kind of conclave, but do stay here. Things will be much different afterwards.’

I took care of the goblins and the lukewarm worshippers of the Preacher as they came in trickles.

Soon, they started coming in floods that I had to stand on a rock to address them.

‘Mend your ways,’ I pleaded with them

‘Can’t you see that you have been misled.’

Some listened and came back week after week. I parried on, spewing hate

At times I was overcome with emotion and,

Out of my little mouth came outbursts of affection for the damned souls not there with us.

At night I would roll back in my cave and wait for the Preacher.

I would pray to him for a miracle,

That he would be there in the morning when I woke up.

He was never there, ever, but I did not feel the slightest loss of faith in him.

I waited,

I grew up.

I wrote books and,

I made love to a few people.

I was getting used to be Lord and Master of my surrounding.

I was stepping into the shoes I once worshipped and kissed,

When one cloudy morning during the rainy season,

When the river banks had burst and,

The Goblins and I were sheltering in a cave together with a few of my followers,

The Preacher, fatter than before came back.

‘It has been too long.’ I cried when I ran to embrace him.

GOBLIN NAMED GOBE:

The Preacher stood there motionless as our Mother embraced him.

He looked around coldly that you could feel the warmth run out of your body.

He sighed loudly and wrapped his arms around Mother.

Mother feeling relieved, held him even tighter and we all sighed loudly.

The Preacher in return squeezed even harder,

But nothing could prepare us for the symphony of bones cracking and the escape of the soul.

THE KNIGHT AND THE KITTY

funny-stuff-knight-kitty

I got to dance at fall and I got a wish granted by a wiry fairy,

I flew away to a land of knights and damsels,

Those sully idiots took but a shower a month.

The rivers were rough and the dams were muddy,

Just a shower a month.

Then I thought to myself how much I would like to be one of the damsels.

I’d get kidnapped by a younger dragon every month.

The knight in shining armour will sweat so much getting into the cave for me.

Just to kill a dragon every month.

‘But wait, why kill all the dragons?’

‘Oh my dear lass, they are dangerous, doth not seeth?’

‘But what if I want to keep one for me?’

‘Then I suppose we will get you a puppy.’

That sully idiot got me the puppy,

I pouted like a hungry kitty,

I rode my horse like one of those short fools of King Henry,

Vi veri verniversum vivus vici.

WHEN ANTONY CROSSED THE RUBICON

2013-05-25-cleopatramarkanthonyAlessandroTurchiLOrbetto

Hurt that my heart does, the knowledge that I have  killed you,

Cry that my eyes do for the blood I know I poured.

Oh Captain my captain, see what I have done you!

 

Better that you would have been blind,

Indeed you were blind.

Did they not beg you to see?

 

I am but a high wretched lady,

With a heart of stone, with a dead lover who is ever too blind to see,

And all fingers are pointed at me.

 

 

Forgive me sweet Anthony.

And while you are away, remember this charred heart that loves you,

Do not suffer  very much, in eternity, soon I will join you.

 

 

 

EDELWEISS

edelweiss

 

How long has it been since Edelweiss,

Twenty years and two more,

Oh fairy, oh music!

Take me to Edelweiss.

Old and cruel, slowly I’ve become,

Rash and careless my name,

Yet Edelweiss, Edelweiss,

My dreams lie with you.

Up in the mountains I bath in snow,

I drink the rocks for Edelweiss,

Edelweiss, Edelweiss,

I’m going to sleep forever.

CONSTELLA

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Once upon a year many years ago,
When I was just but a boy struggling with struggle that bore heavily on my heart and my young loins,
I tried to woe the love of the girl I had known all along in my heart and before my eyes.
Fate bade me wait yet destiny pushed me with an impertinent impatience.
Dearest me as I was then caught between the mistress and the master,
I stood undecided as my young loins throbbed with a heat I’ve never known before or ever again.
I gyrated against desks and benches when that beautiful lass passed in my mind.
Oh dear Constella, where thou art?

My sweet cherished cherry blossom, beam of my heart,
I can hardly remember a time spent in such oblivious bliss.
Now I spend my days in muses that offer not the consolation of my younger days and your blissful memory.
It is as if all is lost to me when I deigned to find myself.

Here I am, in a palace built by my own might.
Marbles upon layers of gold and diamond and the rarest gems and stones.
A philosopher I have become.
I chastise myself at our memory Constella.
I have dark thoughts clouding my heart but my eyes are as clear as day.

I cannot remember a single happy thought from the days after you left me.
Where thou art Constella?
Your brother pays constant pilgrimages to me but even he cannot console me for your departure.
I am a shell of goodness,
Like a matryoshka with naught to show.
Oh robin, oh sparrow , oh lark of my heart!
Once upon a year many years ago,
Come back to me gentlest spirit,
I wish to only die a happy man.

A DAUGHTER OF THE GODS

GODESSThe young goddess painfully ran away from Olympus only to be brought back by the chastising whip of her father’s thunderbolt.

It made no difference to hurl away her satchel or to howl at the accursed skies as if they were the source of her misery.

Such a dainty young goddess such as herself, a recluse among the gods hidden on Olympus.

 

Her lover waited for her for too long, all the while,

He kept his gaze fixated on Olympus.

Olympus the heart of the gods, Olympus the home of the gods,

Olympus where his heart beat, Olympus that snared his cherry blossom.

 

for too long did he keep at the wait.

Sadly for him and for Eros,

mortal as he is, immortal as the other is.

He shriveled under the scorching sun and was battered by the bitter rains.

Son of man, son of woman, how patiently he waited for the young goddess,

How patiently he died. Pity not even the trees sung his odes.

 

Not the birds whistled his tunes,

He lay there, a pile of bones,

A lost cause, a lost love. yet on Olympus,

They fed his cherry blossom with cherries,

And the blossoming flowers sang as she walked around the halls of Olympus.

MY MODEST CIGARETTE

The brown earth now an orange pit,

The hot afternoon air turned into mist,

And my modest cigarette lies invisibly in my empty hands

I look around,

Relaxed but not relaxed, new faces everyday

It’s like swimming in a research aquarium.

I don’t resent it, it’s cooling.

My modest cigarette blows a ring of smoke into the air,

I love how he does it, the wind blows it away though

You can’t catch it if you ain,t keen.

He speaks with a crude tremor, I aint listening to the wind no more.

My cigarette burns out,

I paint the dirt orange, i rise to leave.

me…

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