Monks

:
Fair of my awakening to this new dream
Your name Eve of a sunrise is Echo or Mirror
you turn in the unknown in order to sleep out from this Error of Dream
so you take me to the candle as I see my face in you as for Moonrise
We've talked, we have practiced Peace
as I love to put at your feet when you piss
God is fat enough to be respectable
and you will see it's Him
the angel of idolatry, the top of my thinks.

Tough is the fight with God
and if He were not in love with me,
he the splendid mirror of my illusion
the giver of truth,
he will transform me in a deadly flower.

To asume the consequences of my acts,
in this hyeroglyphical of dream,
was a path of Winter Time,
honored by snow and the flash of extreme Cold,
but you are a charm on this path
some deer light of sight on the movement,
some healing heart of some far spot representing a monastery
some company of the pilgrim
waking up in the grass,
by diamonds of the farewell made pure Beauty.
This is the Milky Way of repentance and joy
the trip to reality.

As the warrior of fair keeps in walk
she gets the memory of love on the feathers of her helm
so as when, for the first time,
she surrendered to a story teller
in the fight and the bleeding of fair
to hear her own story preached along by a stranger
without God and cursed,
an artist living of rain and sun
feeling wind in the borders of the road.

This was the story I told to fair Eve
of how we met and I became her poet,
and the painter of miraculous legs and shoulders,
the sticking with her genius. A comet
in fact kickly leaves
to the orders of Fortune, may the cursed say.
Stylish fairs desappear
taking back their gifts.

In a babylonic shopping list
the hours and days of each planet
are painted to forget,
you should never have the bright
of these sunny shots of sex.
You will have cender on a canvas,
but so recent enough to light your fire.

So I'm singing with monks
gingle belling and smoking night cigarettes

Uccellini
time invisible flight of understanding

the monks and the birds of Venus, pigeons,
smile to me, with the old feathers
looking grey
and looking great to my walk as they flash.
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