Thursday, August 25, 2011


Sorry guys if lately I do not find the time to translate thoughts or poems or even check your blogs, but I'm crossing hard times. I promise to you all that soon I'll be back in activity.

Best wishes


Monday, August 15, 2011

About Candles

Here we go with a new thought that I find deeper and more painful than the previous one, read it carefully.

About candles, I was just analyzing the relationship between them and people.
Generally, as long as there is light you don't notice their presence, but when darkness comes, you notice their absence.
You will find them there, buried under still and grey dust, put aside into an old drawer.
Who really cared about them in the meanwhile? Nobody, like with the most useful 'things', you remember them only when the light vanishes.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

About life

Life, as far as one knows or desires to know about, is nothing more than a clutter of verbs and words, dawns and twilights, seconds that were and will be.
It is futile to contemplate the present since we know less about it than the past or the future.

The future depends on dreams and plans regardless of their realization, the past is instead outlined by experiences that we remember. 

Contemplation of our present self is therefore a loss of past and future, or rather very precious thoughts.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Everywhere, always explanation

First of all: thanks to everyone for the 100 followers milestone!

As I promised now I'm going to explain the poem "Everywhere, always"

Let's start from the beginning, the title: everywhere, always means that most of the time we are subject to lose ourselves anywhere, and at any time.

First stanza:
Dangling feet
grazing November’s scrubs,
at the poppy's penumbra
a necropolis of desires.

Well, as you can read, here there is a man whose dangling feet are grazing scrubs, because he is hanged; he also represents the necropolis of desires because as Schopenhauer said as long as humanity exists their life will be filled with desires. At the poppy's penumbra because he is so small in front of the world that he can stay hanged from a poppy's stem.

Second stanza:
I could be dead or alive
what will the Universe feel?
I'm straw, dried straw
without lymph,
I only wait to parch
and become dull ash.

"I only wait to parch and become dull ash" means that when people dies the differences between one another fall apart: no more rich or poor, white or black, all without names and identity. 

Third stanza:
What am I holding in my fist?
Love, a mother
freedom, fleeting health
dreams and wishes,
the sky over my head
and a rope around my neck;

"Fist" when we own something we hold it in our hands, and the things that this man owns are what a man usually wants. But Death own him as well.

Fourth stanza:
I don't blame, I don't accuse
if today I'm writing here,
life is an unconscious gift,
a radio whispering
for who?
I don't know,
inside my fist
I've got everything
that a sane man will ask
ready to parch;

"I don't blame, I don't accuse if today I'm writing here" we cannot accuse anyone if we live in this world. "A radio whispering for who?" a radio generally doesn't whisper, but in this case it does because human life is as feeble as a whisper and most of the time nobody listens to us.
"I've got everything...ready to parch" one day everything we own will eventually come to an end.

Fifth stanza:
Ashes and dust
will fall as hourglass' sand
from my wrinkled hands,
unveiling that everything
is nothing:
where am I?

We can own everything, but without owning ourselves what do we really have?

So this is my explanation of the poem. I hope this will help you to fully understand it.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Everywhere, always

Here we go with a new poem, this one gave me a lot of trouble. It isn't an easy poem, has a lot of symbols inside like the human powerlessness in front of the Universe, the fleetingness of life and of the things that we "own", the sadness of losing yourself everywhere and anytime, that everything you got in your little life is nothing if you don't own yourself and that we aren't asked to live, but we have to... if we do not want to commit suicide. In my opinion this one is a painful poem, representing the slow descent in the oblivion.

Tomorrow I'm going to post an explanation of all the verses.

Start the video before reading.

I made this photo outside a Gothic cathedral in Nuremberg.

Everywhere, always

Dangling feet
grazing November’s scrubs,
at the poppy's penumbra
a necropolis of desires.

I could be dead or alive
what will the Universe feel?
I'm straw, dried straw
without lymph,
I only wait to parch
and become dull ash.

What am I holding in my fist?
Love, a mother
freedom, fleeting health
dreams and wishes,
the sky over my head
and a rope around my neck;

I don't blame, I don't accuse
if today I'm writing here,
life is an unconscious gift,
a radio whispering
for who?
I don't know,
inside my fist
I've got everything
that a sane man will ask
ready to parch;

Ashes and dust
will fall as hourglass' sand
from my wrinkled hands,
unveiling that everything
is nothing:
where am I? 

Lives of others - original sound track

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Lightyears of darkness

Hello There! I'm here with a new poem, it is called "Light-years of darkness". It's about stars and the long distance that divide us from them all. Sometimes when I walk trough my mind, trough the people or trough a square full of women and men I feel like an unknown stranger. They look at me lost in the deep of my own loneliness and they see their own gaze reflected on my face. Sometimes the more you do for a person, for your friend, for your parents, for your girlfriend or boyfriend, or even for a stranger, the more they fill and enlarge that distance between you and them with apathy. But the stars... the stars always watch over us...

Before reading this, start the video on the bottom, you will find the result so...hmmm, poetic.

Lightyears of darkness

It's dark
only the Moon
bursts the sheer lull.

How many bright eyes
watch over us
now I can't but to ask myself...

Who watches over them?
even Them need to
be, Loved.

The best pessimist - Walking with happiness

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I've met myself

Hi there, here comes my new poem. I wrote this one last night while I was falling asleep. It tells the story of a man that has problems dealing with himself. Sometimes we collide with a part of ourselves that isn't nice or that we cannot accept. We are basically swapped in two different personalities. With our friends, parents, girlfriend etc.. we are who we want to be, then with ourselves, while nobody is looking at us, we show who we really are, sometimes angels but sometimes, rotten corpse.
Dealing with our inner side is always hard.

I've met myself.

So I've learned
to live together
with the foul corpse
that in the deep of the night
breathes, beside my chest.

I've known
the austere and hearted inner self,
 but, I've met his gaze
in the mirror
where I looked at me.
Ashamed I fled.

My soul has
rotten smell.

Mauritius Cornelius Escher, Eye

Monday, July 25, 2011

Hatred Memento's

Well, I wrote this poem during a sunny day in Berlin. I was on school trip and while i was sitting alone in the middle of Gendarme Platz the bells of the two cathedrals rang. On my left side there was the German cathedral and on my right side the French one and under me the battlefield. You can imagine after centuries of religion fight, around the 1700s for the first time two different religions met themselves, and for the first time different religions coexisted in the same Square.
War and hatred became a pale memory, and peace falls every time that the bells ring.

Hatred Memento's

In the echo
of a bell,
the stillness of the night
will return
that the forgotten spirits;

This is Gendarme Platz in Berlin.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Back from Abruzzo

Hi everyone! I'm back with new poems in my backpack!

Sunday, July 17, 2011


In life and in nature everything returns. So be good with the other, be nice with the nature.


bore by chilly wind,
fortify herself
inside the frozen cave,
a beating heart:
sparkle from the hibernation
reawaken, again.

I'm the guy in the photo and my girlfriend is the photographer.
Ladies and Gentlemen, have a nice week as (I hope) I will with my girlfriend on holiday.

Friday, July 15, 2011

God's sin.

This poem is about God and his feeling about child killing. I don't believe in God or in any religion, but I think that if he really exists and looks like us, what he is going to feel when he kills a child?
I know this isn't an easy poem, but I hope you will enjoy it. Thanks for your time. 

God's sin.

At the graveyard
you will come,
by praying 
over petrified tears
of a God that became human,
you will shed yours
over his remorse.

About myself : Mauro

Hi everyone! how is it going? hope well...
I'm just going to tell you something about myself, Mauro. I'm a 21 year old guy that lives in a small town in the north-east of Italy. But soon I'm going to move in another city, Padova 200 km far from home. Why? I'm going to study psychology at university with the aim to become a theorist and a poet. Being a poet nowadays could be a fashion, but not for me. I started to write long time ago, more or less when I was 18. You know life most of the time is unforeseeable and I never expected something like that, writing, writing poems. For me poems aren't just a way of expression, for me they are like my secret girlfriends. When I begin a new one I don't know with which word or line and I even don't know how and if I will end it, but I certainly know that while I write it down I will love it as much as I can. Each poems have their own life, twirl; they move free in my mind and into my heart, each poem is a whisper that comes from the inner part of my own soul.

Poetry isn't a combination of word, comma and dots, poetry is a passion.

sorry for my bad English.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Snort of Violence

This is one of my last translated poem about violence against women. It tells the story of a woman that was glowing like a star in the deep dark space. But a man brutally 'kissed' her.

Even this star
faded away,
even her light
wiped out
Young woman
kissed eagerly

Wednesday, July 13, 2011



So I was talking with my friend Mauro, who just came back from his trip to Berlin, and I stumbled upon this two lyrics he made after he visited the holocaust's museums.

Holocaust poems

through mausoleums
of empty looks
snow laying,
last cold memory
of their unknown

Berlin's wall

Wall, ideas
for melancholic poets

Despite not having done a perfect translation, sometimes the value of a few words is just disarming.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Objective progress


I've always thought that one of the keys to the progress of the human race lays in the ability to break away from the primal instincts that have guided the evolution so far, going from mere survival to a deep knowledge and objective analysis of the human being.

This concept can be applied to many fields of so-called progress but when the depth of analysis becomes greater and greater it begins to conflict radically with the existing society models.

Here is a vivid example taken from a 160+ IQ criminal's manifesto a.k.a. '90s UNABOM:

Psychologists use the term "socialization" to designate the process by which children are trained to think and act as society demands. A person is said to be well socialized if he believes in and obeys the moral code of his society and fits in well as a functioning part of that society.
The moral code of our society is so demanding that no one can think, feel and act in a completely moral way. For example, we are not supposed to hate anyone, yet almost everyone hates somebody at some time or other, whether he admits it to himself or not. Some people are so highly socialized that the attempt to think, feel and act morally imposes a severe burden on them. In order to avoid feelings of guilt, they continually have to deceive themselves about their own motives and find moral explanations for feelings and actions that in reality have a non-moral origin.

As he says, and this is objectively true, whether people admits it or not, the moral code of our society shapes the way we live in a manner that its not ours to decide, often imposing a severe burden on us.

Many people could take this assumptions as a form of anarchism or a blind way for one to oppose himself against anything that limits his liberty, but in this case we must divide the madness of an old man that later made him go as far as killing people because of it, and the true, radical meaning of his words. 

Constructive criticism is the foundation of progress, whether or not it is about something as deep as the basic principles of human coexistence or morality.

History shows us that very often, radical changes were followed by some kind of violence, the reasons of which find their place in people's different opinions about important aspects of their way of living ( e.g. authoritarianism vs liberalism ) or about who should hold the power of government, or about the legitimacy of power, etc.

Whether this is a good or a bad sign, history has proven that we didn't have and don't have any control about this social mechanism yet, but we can surely draw an utopian conclusion: change is most likely leading to progress and there is nothing that we can do to stop the violence that comes with it or...

...are our minds numb enough to not even think of change? 
I sincerely hope that this is not the case.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Odd personality : Alessandro


I guess I'll talk a bit more about myself...

Some of you guys might be wondering about the title of this blog and why did I choose it, well I need to go back a few years to explain this.

I remember that as a kid I was this spontaneous, thin, hyper-active, super-smart little boy who kept positively surprising everyone with his sharp comments about subjects that I shouldn't even know about... I remember my parents bragging about me left and right while , as a carefree kid that I was, everything looked just like a game to me.
I've grown up in a small village in the countryside (and I'm still living there) and there is just a small elementary school with an average of 10 pupils per class, I had plenty of friends but in such an immaculate environment, bad things just weren't meant to happen.

The clash happened in middle school.
I entered this new class without knowing anyone whereas most of them came from another school, from a much bigger city than mine. They all had nicer clothes than me plus I was really really small and also I was very good at school without putting much effort in it.
Sooner or later the radical differences between a pure kid like me and "city boys" like them, started to come up.
I think I could have probably easily handled the standard teenage bullying (or at least have faced lesser consequences ) if my mind wasn't so prematurely developed.
I kept wondering about the reasons that made me not right for that kind of social interactions but i couldn't come to a conclusion (how could I...)
Is it right that a 12 year old kid has to face hard feelings such as humiliation, loss of self confidence, social isolation, for reasons that does not depend on him?
I wasn't like getting beat up or worse things, but still I was such an extroverted person that their undermining words over and over made myself shut down.
I became a deeply introverted person, who transformed the meaninglessness of the behavior i was facing into a generalized detach to other human beings, a form of elitism.
I gradually lost interest into most of the things i was doing because everything looked pointless if it couldn't help to make myself feel better with other people anyways.

The massive inner thinking that was going on with myself prematurely led me to stuff like the meaning of life, the source of feelings, the existence of god, something that i was not yet prepared about, which later on brought me to a dreadful conclusion : at 12 years of age I wanted my mind to become numb, so that i couldn't feel the pain I knew was going to come later in life.

Of course i got past this dark side of my youth but looking back to it it's still really hard.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Here we go


I'm a 21 year old student who has passed most of his life dealing with his big ego and a excessive introverted personality and I've come to a point at which I cant hold everything inside.

I'll try to share with you guys some thoughts about my experiences so far, what i do for fun, but also some deeper stuff about life and society.

My English isn't perfect so please forgive my mediocre grammar :)