fragments of happiness, words on the wall, that's all...

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  • artistano1 1w

    This duet i will sing alone

  • artistano1 4w


    My soul floats
    on the mirror of the sky.
    Whining moon, a traitor, a voyeur,
    like a reflection of nothing in my dead eye.
    The mud forged the plan.
    My cheap rags are worn out
    and lips glued to bare thighs.
    I drink selfishly and greedily,
    until i drown in sorrow.
    I toast the bones of a dead fish.
    That livid and fleshy -
    It will be me tomorrow.

    The pain cut my nerves.
    More rags of miserable flesh,
    lying numb in my bed.
    The darkness of my blood screams,
    blade buried in veins.
    Red, I love you, red.
    Rusted in chains.
    Paint me with your fire of ruin.
    Take me tonight for your slave
    and do with me what you will,
    behind the curtain of my grave.

    The footsteps tremble, uncertain.
    Kneeling knees ring on my face.
    I'll see red drops of dew and insects.
    I'll see a hundred lightning pictures
    as they travel through space.
    I'll see myself lying down
    on a cloud of fog which reds.
    I'll see Invisibly,
    Closer and closer and closer -
    Insects and beds...

    By artistano1

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    Insects and beds

  • artistano1 5w


    I'm still dying, Diane
    I dive,
    into depths of nonsense.
    I'm still lying, Diane,
    waiting for something to happen to me.

    That quiet and inaudible dream,
    or some verse,
    in my dead head,
    or the sound of the wind
    -or a scream.
    Above the tired roof, up,
    another dawn descends on the town
    where i was born,
    where i was die,
    and the night lightly dresses like a whore
    and sneaks out of the room,
    satisfied with her prey.
    I don't even have the strength to turn around.
    She will definitely take her's tip.
    The clock is ticking loud
    and that sound
    swallows everything.

    I'm still dying, Diane
    I dive,
    into depths of nonsense.
    I'm still lying, Diane,
    waiting for something to happen to me.

    I will play for a long time
    this role assigned to me,
    in this defeat
    that will save me.
    I'm Godot, don't wait for me.
    In the city of sold souls,
    in the city of bold passion,
    This town will dawn,
    a graveyard of dead ideas,
    of dead faces
    with the eternal names of dead ends.
    While goes out,
    the last cry of a restless soul,
    I run to sleep to the end of the planet Earth,
    once and for all,
    and let the verses keep you awake...

    I'm still dying, Diane
    I dive,
    into depths of nonsense.
    I'm still lying, Diane,
    waiting for something to happen to me.

    #artistano1 #artista #wod #start #refrain
    @miraquill @writersnetwork

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  • artistano1 6w


    The rain fell from below,
    drops flew in the sky,
    The tall oak turned into a small willow,
    while I gave my best try
    and she said:
    Do you want to try?

    Purple reflection of neon sign,
    created movie scenes,
    and spread the smell of wine,
    and one old blue jeans.
    And she said:
    Do you want to fly?

    My whole life, like a roller coaster,
    it shone through the night,
    like a movie poster,
    in different shapes, colors, light.
    And she said:
    Do you feel universe?

    @writersnetwork @miraquill

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    She said

  • artistano1 6w


    When I wandered one night
    into Untoldland,
    the white hill of the moon turned on the light
    and out of nowhere she appeared
    with one her firefly friend.

    she stay and smiled at me,
    the night was hot like a heater.
    To pour honey from all the baskets
    in the world, she would be sweeter.

    Night or day, or both, silent as nightwatch
    just prettier, like a day with moonlight.
    The willows down looks like dancing,
    maybe it just occurred to me,
    maybe everything danced by her touch.

    It is not the moon, but milk,
    and it's not bird's milk,
    but the milk of the moon,
    she waved at me and say
    "I have to catch my firefly,
    see you soon!"

    Those who are awake will miss
    the most beautiful dream,
    and those who sleep will miss much more
    ... when they wake up.

    I'm just afraid
    my breathing won't disturb
    the perfect peace of the trees.
    God, how beautiful land is,
    how it is nice to be alive tonight,
    how it is nice to see you, miss Moonlight!

    All my worries,
    the beasts that have me,
    resting now down deep,
    like the anchor of a ship.

    So if is necessary
    that something happen to me,
    let it be tonight,
    and let it be
    miss Monlight...

    Miss Moonlight
    Written by Artistano1

    #patheticfallacy #wod

    #genuine_readers #daadigotyourback
    @miraquill @writersnetwork

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    Miss moonlight

  • artistano1 7w


    White nights
    and i'm scared
    White nights
    and i suffer
    White nights
    on the walls
    White nights
    from the shows
    White nights
    and lies...
    White nights
    and i'm lost
    White nights
    and i'm scared
    White nights
    and your name
    White nights
    and a blame
    White nights
    Just flies.
    White nights
    on the doors
    White nights
    in disgrace
    White nights
    and hand of salvation,
    White nights,
    masks and isolation
    White nights
    In the caves.
    White nights
    and i'm old
    White nights
    and i suffer
    White nights
    and rusted bones
    White nights
    and i'm scared
    White nights
    In the graves.

    * * * *



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    White nights

  • artistano1 8w

    She looked a little sad
    in that dress.
    In that dying summer.
    It's like she loves me
    for the last time.
    Art died in the paintings
    in which she fastens her bra.
    My skeleton is rotten.
    Collor. Column. Corona.
    Under infrared rays,
    the Moon is plump,
    airy and accurate
    in its appearance at celestial parties.

    We have started
    to unknowning each other.
    But flashes and dreams come by habit.
    We have joy and fun
    in that past life.
    The cobweb grabbed the door
    which was closed in one direction.
    After she left,
    my palms plowed more
    than when I started my circle.
    Circles. Plows. Pillows.
    Under infrared rays,
    the night is dark,
    and poetry stalks me
    on this celestial party.

    Just me and the mirror.
    Show must go on.
    I'm just an artist in circus.
    What's wrong with circuses?
    - At least I can walk on the wire
    and stumble ... and fall ... and...
    It'll be part of my show,
    the kids will laugh.
    Everyone laughs in the circus.
    - I'm crying.
    Circus. Citrus. Cycles.
    Under infrared rays,
    this town is empty place,
    and stray dogs bark
    to their celestial bones.

    The motive is the same
    for kill and locking the door since you left.
    Five years later
    there was a parade
    of charged gay particles in the city.
    I paraded among the bookshelves.
    The letters shone under the lamp,
    words fell from the sky,
    sky created us,
    we created books,
    books created shelves.
    And the circle closes there.
    Round. Scream. Click.
    Under infrared rays,
    your face haunting me in the mirror,
    and our roles dancing
    on this celestial show.

    But I still laugh.
    It was Sunday.
    I was at the cemetery.
    And it wasn't black as I imagined.
    I was happy to feel sad.
    I fastens her bra in letters on the paper.
    I was standing on the moon
    trying to touch the sky...
    - Don't let someone...
    - Don't let anyone.
    Artist. Atheist. Arthritis.
    Under infrared rays,
    the moon is plump,
    we are just a stain of wine,
    in this celestial life
    but i'm yours and you are mine.


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    Infrared rays

  • artistano1 8w

    then the other,
    then more and more
    piece by piece,
    I leave myself in the ghost town.
    And I'm going down,
    like in the ashes a log
    And so cold...

    Piece of me
    is still out there,
    somewhere in a bunch
    of crumpled smiles.
    where the morning
    dresses in purple the roofs.
    where are no more amateurs
    with rented costumes
    and cheap roles.
    where I stopped dreaming
    about spoiled doll's.
    And I'm lying down
    like in the ashes a log
    And so cold...

    One piece of me
    is still somewhere
    confused by your growing obligations.
    Where the world fell asleep before us,
    and where, at least for an hour,
    we had our first dream.
    And one piece
    stayed there
    where my songs made sense,
    and my dead hands wrote
    black letters on your white body.
    And now I'm leaving town
    like in the ashes a log
    And so cold...

    Piece by piece, by piece,
    I leave to your memories.
    All I have to do is see you tomorrow,
    and move your mind, the way I know.
    And all I have to do is bite your lip
    for some new year
    while burning balloons fly over us
    in Paris, or anywhere
    And all I have to do is dying in the fog
    like in the ashes a log
    And so cold...

    Written by artistano1

    #piece #artista #end #wod

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    Piece by piece

  • artistano1 8w

    Sometimes she lets me fantasize about her

  • artistano1 9w

    Find me in the songs.
    In the silence of the waking forest.
    In Friday
    in October.
    On the train for immortal souls.
    Find me in the scars
    And in the stars
    In one soccer ball
    In a pub
    And in a crashed cars.
    Find me in a room
    and in itself
    in naked body
    find me while you get lost
    and stay a miss
    of a damned's,
    while you kiss...

    @miraquill @writersnetwork #find

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    Find me