futile

dirty rich , originally uploaded by arialee miles.

What miracle people are looking for
while descending the slope of their disdain?

Till where does an elusive glance arrive
before stopping to caress the eyes of a lost love ?

Is it all an escape to fight the days of a next cold winter ?
I don’t know anymore ,
I barely understand my reasons ,
I look for you, for an answer and I wait
for something that could open my mind
and clear up the fog and the regrets .

Have we to let go our enchanted time ?
our space , our passions
our infinite attempt to be true to each others?
That suspended moment between time and reminds
when it is just us and nothing else appears?

Your music breaks my silence,
my words are not enough to unveil you
to keep you close , to win your resistance.
Don’t keep me outside
Don’t close the door .
I am here .


Via Flickr:
Blogged

le estreme propaggini ( the farthest branches )

la signora delle camelie, originally uploaded by arialee miles.

Le estreme propaggini ,
del tuo errabondo amore
mi raggiungono,
mi circondano,
mi toccano.
Ed io sorpresa
mi avvolgo in esse,
mi rimbocco
le tue ali sulle spalle
e mi arrendo,
tranquilla
nei tuoi sogni
mi addormento.

>>>>>><<<<<<< The farthest branches of your wandering love reach me, surround me, touch me. And I surprised wrap myself in them, I tuck your wings on my shoulders and I surrender, peaceful, in your dreams, I fall asleep.

the dress or not the dress

to be or not to be, originally uploaded by arialee miles.

There are little truths
stinging like bumble-bees
that nobody dares to say .
Some little absurd statements
so true in their naïve essence
that people prefer to forget.
There are little people,
made bigger for casual chance
who think to be dressed
until a single voice,
dissonant from the adoring court,
plaintive at the beginning ,
then stronger and stronger
dares to shout ,
breaking the astonished silence,
“the king is naked”.

I hear your music

disaster in brown , originally uploaded by arialee miles.

I hear your music.
Your silent symphony
explodes in my head,
and the sound
shivers on my spine
rolling on my back,
until it flows
along my arms
in my hands.
A thousand words,
unsaid,
color their meaning
in the deafening noise
of a mute discourse.
I will continue to
talk to you
even if trapped
into an hopeless
silence.

the sluggishness

GK slap garde black , originally uploaded by arialee miles.

The sluggishness of a day,
passionate in vain,
catches me unexpected,
and the air of a new fall
surprises me again.

The sun in its envious turning
flatters me with an embrace.
Late season,
ultimate attempt
of languorous mildness.

I observe myself crying ,
and I don’t see my face.
How have I been able to
not recognize myself
in my true nature?

I can’t say I’ve gotten lost,
because I don’t know
if through the flowing of time,
I have ever been able
to find myself.

I live halfway
suspended in an undefined space,
in the acute percipience
of my senses,
being on the alert.

I am going away,
I leave myself.
My strength slowly
extinguishes itself,
engulfed by still parasites.

Eyes more empty,
a more tired heart,
my mind chases after
my soul in its
failed outbursts.

That’s why I survive
under this sick sun,
driving myself back,
refusing myself
the colour of a thought.

the sailing rules

forget me not, originally uploaded by arialee miles.

Here a quite old piece of mine but strangely consistent with my present mood .

Today I observed the people
Like I watched them
for the first time.

Just a simple thought,
but it cut me to the quick.

Each of us is an island.
Doesn’t matter how
one borders to another
forming an archipelago.

There is an arm of sea
in between.
A deep sea,
so we can’t swim.

Therefore,
to go across that sea,
we use boats made of words.
Sometimes they keep the water,
sometimes they sink.

So we hoist the sails
of our enthusiasm,
and in contrary wind,
full of disappointment,
fast we lower them.

We rock,
trying to catch a rope
which would take us
sheltered from ourselves,
inside another person.

The other,
we entrust lot of ourselves,
loving and unawares.
We cling to the sailing rules,
we use the compass and
we use the nautical charts.

We learn the necessary
about winds and tides,
we are worthwhile of the storms,
we polish the bulkheads
and we supply the storeroom.
Filled with optimism,
excited by the journey.

Then while we are in the open sea
and we already glimpse the ground,
the sea suddenly flattens,
and we pray,
we wait for a thrust
which would drag us
out of that slack calm,
but it doesn’t happen.

Then we amazed,
astounded,
we wonder why?
We ask ourselves
about the sailing rules,
the strength of our wishes,
about our desires.

We feel betrayed
by ourselves,
incapable to be consistent,
to hold the course,
to steer the vessel,
incapable
to strength the stain
which pushes ourselves
towards that new
unknown land.

So we slowly,
sailing close to the wind,
turn back,
over our steeps,
often over others’ steps,
quiet, sad, a bit older,
and alone again.

a gentle turn

absolute truth, originally uploaded by arialee miles.

Sailing in the open sea ,
during a drastic sudden change of course,
it is always the helmsman who fails the steer.
Don’t blame the sea, don’t charge the waves,
do not curse the wind .
It is neither the compass nor the foresail .
They will be your steady hands on the helm ,
your heedful eyes open to the horizon,
the pureness of heart during the passage ,
the truth to the route ,
that will make you accomplish a gentle turn.
Hesitations , lacks of consistence ,
disregard of streams and undercurrents ,
will make you fail and fall .