divination as dedication ...

NOISE

Divination is investigation it is not mere imagination 
it is trusting one own intuition, is like a bad immersion
in the miserable void of prejudices and assumptions.
Divination is not abstraction it is like a painful excursion
along close minded paths of some shallow aberration.
Did anyone ever tell you that first you start deleting images, 
then you think about burning  books , last you end with building walls?


Phothographer, model and words Arialee Miles

the warrior .....

NOISE

My scars are made of people

who  lived in my mind  

my battles are made of silences and screams ….. 

photograph , model  and words Arialee Miles 

.... it will be darkness

NOISE

It will be all darkness after you will be gone
the cold sneaky creeping will worm among my bones
and my soul will lose the bright color of the sunlight  .

It will be senseless after you will be gone
the meaning of what I do will stumble against the walls
asking around for an answer but it will not get  .

It will be motionless after you will be gone
and every gesture every simple act will be dragged around
like in a slow motion nightmare without any hope of awakening.

words and phothography by Arialee Miles

Death and the Maiden

NOISE

When he knocked at the door, I was not ready yet,
but I had no choice but open and let him in ,
so with a last fleeting glance I tried to absorb
those traces  of life I was going to leave behind me.
With a slight wavering, just an unperceivable tremble
I accepted his hand on mine following his slow paced gait.
- I am ready Sir - I told him, and he nodded in approval
-  Let’s go then, do not further hesitate,
 the time arrived and the pact was respected.

photography  and words Arialee Miles

tell me your secrets

NOISE


a dedication

Let slide those shadows along the darkened things

In that particular hour suspended in the twilight

while the day slowly dives lazily in the dusk

while the consciouness leaves place to the swoon

and the shades of enlonged leafy branches

are threatening monsters hidden under our bed .

But we can win all the shades waiting patient our sleeping

we can fight all the monsters with the light of our minds.

So tell me all your secrets and I will tell you mine,

while in your arms I find my beginning and my aim

and we will make it twinkle with the spark of our words.

Tell me every secret you have never said,

all the things and the caresses you have never known.

Sing for me every song you have never heard

and I will play for you every day a new music

with a magic instrument made of dust of lost angels.

Whisper me all your secrets and I will keep them safe

locked in a special place carved behind my heart

between dreams and delusions, betrayed loves and illusions,

wasted tears and true emotions.

words phothographer and model Arialee Miles 

the dollz court_ a tale against gender murder

NOISE

Just because you can see us like little children dolls it does not mean we still exist as you would expect.  Under the mortal shape so visible at the most there is more than an usual form of life.  
A more mysterious essence is concealed behind those remains, something of a different form. 
We have been here, with our hurried dollish shuffling and our childish chattering accompanying her in this house since  she was only  a child and sharing with her long tea afternoons, laughing in happiness and joy …. We have seen the excitement of her first dates and then we witnessed  the preparation for her wedding . But that was before …    far before  your steps on these stones, resonating heavy suffocated and covered her cries, tears  and her screams due to your strokes days after days since you came to live here.
Till that day you yelled louder and your fist hit  stronger her face and then beat it  again and again   and you stopped only when her head bumped against the wall bouncing like a broken doll and the blood from her forehead spilled and made a pool on the floor weeping under the  carpet covering the  room penetrating the stone and the wood. 
Meanwhile her breath light like the wings of a seagull reached the air,  that air  she  did  not have anymore and  lifted her soul  towards the sky in a surreal pirouette towards an angel, towards a God , if you believe in one ! 
And you down in that room dirty of her blood , alone with  the only worry to clean it all, and report her disappearance  to the police. An escape, an absent minded inquiry,  maybe  a secret  lover  , who knows !
Oh you have been so inconsolable, looked so  sad, desperate. A pillar of the neighborhood. Poor man !
But now we are gathered  here for you ! We were waiting for you.  
Come have a tea with us sisters of our beloved child . Come to your little doll friends, don’t be worried  man, we have seen it all ! We were here invisible witnesses.
We are just waiting for you!  Do not hesitate, do not be scared of the unavoidable! 
Sooner or later we all have to watch in ourselves with a true attitude. 
Do not be afraid the consequences of what with self indulgence you call your “ little mistake”, do not be afraid of us and about  what we could do . Oh, we will not harm you, violence is not in our plans nor in our aims , we do not look for turbulence just for acknowledgement, for self - assessment. 
In our tea there is just something pure ,   there is the awareness,  there  is your removed bad conscience, your self- absolution, your astute penitence, your renovated confidence.
You can sit among us and have a simple tea,  an exquisite talk, you can  look deep in the essence of the reality,  take a tour in your true conscience, measure the size of your guilt with the eyes of your denied evidence.
We will just give you the tools and true inner eyes to watch deep in the gorge of your dark soul and you will draw your right consequences.   Ohhh and we forgot to tell you !!  ….there  on the table,  just beside the teapot near the sugar bowl , we left  a  gun just for  every occurrence. 

GLoWinG

NOISE

We carry with us ghosts and fears

coming from other lives,

we listen to voices and whispers

we thought we had forgotten

in the farthest corners of our consciences.

We stand up for freedoms

we are willing to lose

waiting only to dive  ourselves

in the eyes of who can cause

a sudden beat of our heart.

We are the autumn of a lost summer

and turning back we cannot  see but

a missed  future full of regrets.

We do not know anymore

what we are at the present

 and where we go,

Nevertheless, we are  still walking. 

words and photographer Arialee Miles 

the song of the frogs

noise

The song of the frogs 

Your fear should not stop my hands

when a caress is near my fingertips

ready to explode crossing your hair

like a far  firework, the echo of a lost holiday,

the remind of a past happy joyful time.

Your interrogative eyes should not

stare at me like I was the foulest of all  fools

the one that does not know the weight

of the intrinsic value of a blast of words

said just in a moment to be left in the wind.

Heavy inheritance of a world of illusions and

disillusions, all covered with the lightness

of a not hidden superficiality of aims and hopes.

Come here, come here  summer of despair !

light of dead drunk fireflies all around escaping

 when a stone falls in the pond with a deaf sound.

Do you hear the frogs singing their dissonant song?

You so close yet so distant, caring at times

but always closed in your own mystery. 

Come here, come here don’t leave me waiting

In the middle of the seagulls’ noisy meal.

My half lifted hand insecure in a caress,

withdraws in its mortified attempt.

I do not  try to understand the reasons

I do not wonder anymore and yet I am hurt,

I should not but I can’t help a subtle pain,

crawling  sneaky along my veins,

coward,  when I am absent minded

reaching for my  heart and there stopping,

stubborn catching my breath

and taking my words away.

And you , you observe me with your

inquisitive glance like I was something exotic

coming from outer worlds and from outer galaxies,

with my charge of ironic too subtle humor

and unexpressed enigmatic poetry.

Come here, come here months of lazy intimacy,

talking like we were the only ones on this earth,

like we were the only ones to share a secret.

The unveiled truths of a cheap honesty,

the last mirror to seize the real look

 of a thousand remodeled fake beauties. 

Photographer and words Arialee Miles 

cRawLinG

NOISE

If all you can do is crawl, start crawling. ~Rumi

cRawLinG

In a nowhere land
where nothing stay untouched
under the lashing of elements
I buried my heart.

I let  fall it in a ditch
I have digged with my hands
and  filled with the
ground of my regret.

I did not turn to watch
I did not say a word,
not a farewell, determined.
I left it behind.

My heart is buried in a nowhere land
where beings without a name
scream their sorrow,
unheard cries.

I trespassed the borders,
of the no-love land,
crawling beyond  my fears
passing them and going ahead.

I am not brave but without a choice,
without help, without peace,
without a reason to survive,
without an aim and without a passion.

I found the sand in my pockets
and I filled the pit of my heart
to repair it from the bombing
without any shelter.

I built an house made of
withered branches,
of unmentionable lies and shrewd pains.
And now I live there.

Photography and words by Arialee Miles

rooms

NOISE

rooms 

There is a place in the back yard of my mind

where I keep all the retained words

and the questions I haven’t been able to put.

There is a line just in the middle of my hand

where I saw the struggling of my  heart challenging

 all the adverse conditions to get  you

There was  a time suspended in a non-time

where we used to meet part crazy and part unaware

about the pain we were going soon to inflict ourselves.

There is a room well hidden in my heart

where I built your home with foundations of trust

laid  there one by one with stubborn dedication

There was a place in the basement of your mind

where you had already decided since long ago

to plant the first seeds of the unavoidable end. 

Photography  and words Arialee Miles 

DIA DE LOS MUERTOS

NOISE

for a dear lost friend ..... 

So the rain keeps falling

over strained slightly red leaves

and all around the nature

prepares  the last lonely embrace.

A blast of wind swarms over the street

and a wet plastic bag pretends to fly

rising from the asphalt,

whirling unsure,

then suddenly after an attempt

falls down

like a pale wounded butterfly.

Your eyes,  deep and dark,

put a mute question,

nobody knows the answer.

.... leaving

NOISE

Sometimes although our burning desire to stay , is time to go and open wide our wings.

Time to go for ourselves and for the one we love, go to fly and  travel unknown routes and have something always new and always unexplored  to live and tell.

Time to go to not be  folded on ourselves and become just the last habit difficult to escape for fear to hurt, only the last pitiful lie on the altar of a warped sense of loyalty . 

And yet the longing even before we leave is strong and fills our hearts of sadness, though there is the mind which leads with  clear lucidity its implacable  analysis that makes us true to ourselves and suggests with merciless bluntness that there is not other solution but set the other and ourselves  free.

That it is time to go to not be forgotten , time to leave our shores to be remembered before it is too late. 

The invisible reasons of the heart

NOISE

Il cuore ha ragioni invisibili agli altri e procede per proprie intuizioni.
Né derive né sponde , razionali o profonde gli rendono agevole il corso .
Per i suoi tormentati percorsi tortuosi, impetuosi , difficili , ostili
è inutile impresa inseguirlo , blandirlo, attirarlo , circuirlo. 
Con la mente cercare di corrergli dietro e capirlo, di mettergli briglie, domarlo.
Il cuore ha sue strade nascoste, sue onde , sue piene e maree , correnti
navigabili fiumi sereni  o torrenti schiumosi di rabbia repressa.
Il cuore ha decisioni incostanti ha slanci a volte improvvisi , ha languide soste
precise ferrate lungo montagne dai lati scoscesi e dalle cime impervie.
Il cuore ha una regola sola, l’assenza totale di schemi  algoritmi o equazioni .

The heart has got  its invisible reasons and proceeds for its own intuitions .
Neither a sliding keel nor an rational and deep edge can ease its course.
For its tormented, meandering , rushing , difficult , hostile  journeys
is useless enterprise try to follow it , cajole it, attract it ,deceive it .
Try to run after it with the mind and understand it, to put a bridle on it, to tame it.
The heart got its hidden roads , its waves, its floods and its tides, undercurrents
navigable peaceful rivers or rushing steams of suppressed rage.
The heart got not consistent decisions , got sometimes sudden dashes, got languid halt,
it has definite railways along mountains with rugged sides and inaccessible peaks.
The heart has  got only one rule , the total absence of patterns, algorithm or equations.


Photographer and model moi :)

although black love is love ...

NOISE

Love Black

Love is not always pink and held in a candy box .

Sometimes love is black , love can have thorns and can  make us bleed .

Love can have various shapes and sometimes it can't be sized with the usual mainstream meter used to seize  conventional feelings .

Inexplicable  things we do for love, and we surprise ouselves and we astonish people around us , we do little and great acts of courage for love and  we do great gestures of craziness.

That is not craziness at all ,  yet it is the life itself lived intensely,   till the last bite of sanity, till the last drop of conscience,  at time of recklessness.

And yet it is sweet to sink in this state of elated foolishness while we close the reason out of our doors, deaf at its screams.

And we run .... and we run ...and we run .... wildly...  we run  happy towards  our pain .

breaking the rules

arms up high

Breaking the rules

No matters where you are , what you are doing and on what boat you are sailing .

No matters what is the dream you are dancing and in which dimension you are running .

No matters what sea your thoughts are crossing and what is the mountain that your hands are climbing.

What is the ideal you are pursuing and what is the light you are following . 

What horizon  your eyes are looking   and what are  the words you are seeking .  

No matters how much you keep me far nor how long the path will be . 

There is nothing you can do, you try to fight but  you can’t win and you know it well ... and yet you fight .

Because you’re mine.

SEASON'S GREETINGS

SEASON'S GREETINGS, originally uploaded by arialee miles.

Happy Holiday !!!
I wish great peace of mind and serenity on heart for everyone !

It ain't love

It ain't love, originally uploaded by arialee miles.

25 november
International day against domestic violence on women and gender murder.

It ain't love,
don't tell me
you love me
when regretting
for your insanity
you pray me
to forgive you
every time
with the
same words
every day
with the same
old attitude.
don't tell me
that you can't
live without me
while your fist hits
my face because
you think I can bear
every time
a little more
every time
a little stronger.
Don't call it love
while you put me
in a corner
and in that corner
you leave me
laying on the floor.
It ain't love .

the making of a woman

NOISE

So from the insolence
of your magnificent spring
enlightened by those
apparently eternal rays of sun,
you really  think you can tell me
about  things I have  already lived
or about places where I have  already been
or streets I have  already covered
with the same sense of invincible
omnipotence you are showing me ?
You don’t surprise me,
maybe you saddened me a little
because I allowed you for a moment
the regret of a lost occasion to stay silent.
I won’t tell you the usual,
slightly  envious nasty thing,
that you will hear,
again and again,
during your life,
year after year,
while, already too late,
you will try to swim
against the stream,
arduously, hopelessly
like a stubborn stupid salmon.
That the beauty is ephemeral.
This truth you already know.
Every day you can see it yourself .
You don’t need me telling you this again.
I will tell you another thing  instead,
that one day you will understand,
it won’t be enough anymore, 
and  you will want something else,
much more than that,
something that is not up for sale.
Because for the man
you will choose to support
all his frailties on your shoulder,
not strong enough  for that,
the one you will choose
to protect from the world
soothing its screams with your hands,
sustaining his mind
only with the pureness of your heart,
dissolving his insecurities
with a smile and your touch
dispersing his doubts 
and his  fears with a caress,
holding his hand when he trembles, 
but conceding him the illusion
to be himself with his apparent strength 
to protect you from
the ambushes of life,
keeping you safe.
Then for him, and only for him, 
you will want to become a woman. 

I bend to you

noise

I bend to you
to your unusual gesture
yet so familiar deeds
to those able to read
beyond the simple appearance
of a banal, mundane caress.
And your glance
outlines with a simple touch
the shape of my soul
revealing every shore
and every hidden inlet.
And so my soul is bleeding
and drop after drop
filling your hands
with all the words
left unsaid between us,
with all the absences
the willful reticences,
all the long waits,
all the questioning stares.
And yet  you surprise me
with something always new
unexpected in its simplicity
essential and unforeseen
taking my  fingers in yours
and lifting my mind away
in a renewed elsewhere,
the only place I crave
the only which makes sense.

for all my mistakes

noise

For all my mistakes
the one I have done
and those I will commit
for all the time
I stood here thinking
it was never too late.

For all the prayers
I have never said
for all the silences
I have let flow
between  my hands
empty in front of life.

For all my pride
and my being vain
for my beginning
and for all my ends
for a flag of regret
for the drums of my heart.

For all the trust
I have wasted
and all the useless
memories I have kept,
leaving you walking
alone in a dead end.

For all the fantasies
flying in my mind
like blind butterflies
against your  flame,
with all my mistakes
I always will love you.