Originally posted on marcellocomitini:
La mia amata era nuda e indossava soltanto,conoscendo il mio cuore, gioielli tintinnantidai ricchi finimenti che le donavano l’ariavittoriosa che hanno le schiave dei Mori. Questo mondo luccicante di…
Delicate and boundless.. Marianne found me drinking alone by the Texas river. I was drinking the Black Velvet whiskey at noon and writing old-man poetry. She took my journal and she read my… Continue reading
Sometime we must steal and loan kisses… Beautiful lady arrived at the Austin’s tavern at twelve trying to escape the Texas Summer heat. Once she wanted everything and more, now she need… Continue reading
I was told… The prettiest and most dangerous lady, I was told she was, always writing down her words and she was waiting for me, her strong coffee sweet and creamy, I saw… Continue reading
The echoes of yesterdays… (April poetry number twelve.) Drinking alone in a Monterey tavern in April,1992. I was trying to hide from a memory and I saw the saddest face man looking back… Continue reading
If I could turn back time, I would….. I called beautiful Brigitte at 3 am and I awoke her up in Böblingen in the early Fall of 1981, Germany. She answered with a gentle and… Continue reading
We are, what we leave behind. I remember the most beautiful woman I have ever known. She was a Ojibwa woman who lost everything and she kept her human emotions of kindness and… Continue reading
An amazing poem shared by a talented writer.
Darkness.. Life become less needful. Men with dead eyes learn to love the strip clubs, the drink and the war. Darkness overtake men who had learn love is bitter, life is a pain… Continue reading
Drinking song… Once I met Bukowski in California and he told me. Never truth a man, who never drinks. I learn with old age. He was right. Drunk men or women will tell… Continue reading