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ABOUT IT ... again ...


Uuuuuh, scientist ariecco u! First of all sorry heart, my dear comrades! It's been more than two months since I last updated the blog. Some of you will say, I was so well these two months, now behold again this! It was in August when I wrote the last post and it was terribly hot, but now it seems to be in the storm ... oh well it happens, my friends! I was pleased to review all of you after the summer ... although I must say that the reading room of Via Salaria now has become a tea room. If at least there was already a healthy one would be something, but it seems the special department of the CIM. ... And oh well! In August, I realized that the blog had reached zero degree of communication, especially in the game to guess our dear guests! Which is why I decided to remove at least this category. Now this space will be devoted to poetry more firmly. We will see whether to continue the stories of my "Experiments sociological "or not. ... what will surely be heading the" distinguished guests "which for now includes only the name of Eugenio Montale.
But another reason, my crazy friends, kept me away from these pixels: I wondered what it's writing poetry. I see the world tinged with gray, adult life unfolding before me, the little everyday realities that savor every day: it's all very far from illusions, from the nobility of feelings, dreams. Everything is concrete, everything is quick, everything is a fact. There is no time for abstraction, reflection, the word. He still flirts with the charm of words? I do not think, my deluded friends.
But, despite everything, below you will find three of my thoughts. They belong to different times.
And then, finally, I decided to get back in front of my computer. This is thanks to you, my friends.

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TOWARDS THE 'LOVE

Sitting here on this sofa apart
is time to consider whether or not it seems.
I see everyone talking, laughing and joking
as I did with you until now.
I watch you smile and you move
seems that you belong to a world where sin and vulgarity
not exist.
suppose you have created the angels, and then you have
sent
next to me because I knew the feeling of flying. While
I look at the diversity, diversity

evident between past and present but it is even more between words and deeds.
Love, to me synonymous with adventure, a magical moment
to subtract from the time
but perhaps only now I know its meaning.
I look and I think the days to come,
your face will not be the memory of this evening,
and your bewitching scent is my air.
He looked up and meet your eyes, your smile
answer: I jumped up, I decided to try
finally true love.

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THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE MOON ANGEL

Maybe it's because she's tired now
illuminate the sky every
night that you're not with me tonight.
It kills the dignity of man,
cancel the values \u200b\u200bof civilization and was at the top
remember the truth.
echo the cries of a woman,
that will give a child in pain but she was always there
inevitable.
Despite the decline of the spirit, she is still keeping the simplicity

and a well for the romantic image.
The desire for success and money are his main enemies

sometimes too strong to fight.
Even love has chosen the calculation,
solidarity is in exile from the world and
witnessing its demise.
I try to find his message
between the roofs of ruined this country,
nostalgia for a vanished history.
Surrounded by a garden, I think
lovers who hosted
and seem to see it more pure.
So is this old church, the cloister
of Doric columns,
and flowing fountain in the center.
shyness seems to listen,
of those who were here in the past
trying to read in the eyes of others.
I see you and I feel transhumanize,
the liberty of expressing my love,
while the heart is now on the lips.
And while I lose my sense of myself,
listening to the taste of your sweetness,
think that the moon has reappeared. For us.

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A quarter of a century I almost
you made you a pink afternoon
childhood and I was wondering where you hid the wings.
skin and hands are almost orange peel,
few teeth and hair, but a huge heart
'll call you "grandma" even if you're an angel.
grew and I was wondering how long
the passing of the years would have allowed
still enjoy your company.
Remember the silent lunches after school,
gone to see your favorite
while Luke and I did not want to grow?
remember your care and your affection
always a hot meal ready for us, we promise to make you
angry.
Sometimes you shut the kitchen to eat, because you wanted to talk things

but it was nice when we dine with us.
I grew up the son of those moments
now, perhaps, we do not see much anymore
but only the heart is the guardian of true affection.
Often, grandmother, great utopia dream:
would not be nice if we lived on the other hand you back
and young, cheerful and lively?
we will become gradually smaller and
at the end of the show, the final farewell
you look again at the future with serenity.

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SUMMER BREAK AND THANKS

And here we are at much awaited holidays! Tomorrow, 6 am, waiting for me the Salerno-Reggio Calabria that will lead me, Paul and Fabrizio from our dear Elvira in Corigliano Calabro!
On the one hand I am very happy to leave, but then I will miss so many things! Do not redraw the blog before the end of August-early September percu vore you a salute and express my gratitude for these past five months with the now historic address: Via Salaria 113.
Thanks to Rosa, Lucia for meals eaten in front of the legendary tank with fish and their brightness even in moments of extreme chaos. A special thanks to Valerie, with whom in addition to lunch, I shared many discussions that I have shown the magnitude and sensitivity of his soul.
Thanks to Eliana for her joy, thanks to the other legendary Valentina (our panterona) that made me laugh out loud several times with his lines cheering the afternoons spent on books. Thanks also to the Weaver, with whom we have designed so many things to be done ... just wait and see!
Thanks to Veronica ... I miss them already so our fight, dinners at home, our chats in the car. Thanks to Amata and Jade, two special girls, more sun that made me have fun too. Thanks to Emanuele for our pleasant discussions and for his jokes, which allowed me to forget the many moments of sadness or melancholy. Thanks to the great Sorrentaus, who taught me much, much more than he realizes it! Thanks all'esimio Paul Duff ... I'll always remember the night's cover of Rino Gaetano ... kill as was unleashed on the track ... UNIV all quiet, but there!
Special thanks to Alberto, Andrea and Emily ... veterans Via Salaria. They were with me until the day of closing ... The laughter movies with Emily! And the tricks of Albert, where we put them? A big thank you to Andrea for her company ... only guy in the middle of a healthy madhouse ... and a great frequenter of this blog! But how can not thank
Paolone and Silvia? I really enjoyed the talk on literature, on De Andrè, the cinema ... and especially the legendary outputs Paolone scompisciare that made me literally!
And of course how not to mention two of my best friends: Coccia and Marcone! To see them every day even at Via Salaria has helped me to be more peaceful! Thanks to the legendary Marco
SIAE, but was always at 19! Greetings ... I should also thank Fabiola xkè we brought them many times but today I feel good!!
And here at last! I left them last xkè x I thank them stronger! I'm talking about Vincenzino, Charles and Joseph! Without them it would not be via Salaria Via Salaria! Without them I do not wake up all morning with the urge to take the tram. ... I do not have three words for them ... you can not describe ... I can only say: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU !!!!!
In the midst of all these thanks I have a reproach to do! This criticism goes to Fabian. Star mine, if you put me next Barbano while studying, then I do 48 cards! Do not understand anything ... percu the next time you make a good girl, get at least 2 chairs after ... HHHHHO! Maronne ICORONETA!

Guys, thanks again for everything, via Salaria for me it was a second family ... see you in September!

DIMENTICATEMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII NOT !!!!!

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Article important

The author the stranger's blog appeals to the kidnappers

Penny: "Liberate Cavallaro"

Other post 3 to free the hostage. But there are those who talk of staging.

dark glasses and blue eyes. This is how Penny examination held by Aldo and Joseph. You would think that he studied all night. Not so though. E ', however, extremely nervous about the fate of his teacher and friend, Renato Cavallaro, who was kidnapped two weeks ago by Vincenzino, Charles Joseph and the janitor. He feels guilty. The kidnappers have made it their insane gesture because Penny decided not to update a month from his blog: http://isentieridellutopia.blogspot.com .
Master (so she calls Carlo in his circle) has smashed a window of 'flat blogger throwing a stone in a plastic bag in which there was a piece of paper. It read: "O you update your blog or rapiamo Renato." Then a line below: "And write it with your keyboard." Messages to identify who made the first of the bandits.
Two days after the wiretaps revealed the complicity of the master. Joseph received a phone call the janitor Vincenzino by saying, "Dear my job, but you know him?". The other party would reply: "yeah, but eh, but he who?", Then again Vincenzino: "Like who? Carlo! And 'he who has organized everything. " These last words of the last dry caretaker of the option: "Uuuuuhhh, u scientist! Tutt'isso ago! Singer, Nobel and also u mo kidnapper! Ah, but eh, but we pulled it to the field! "
Saputo all, Penny has decided to put three new post on his blog. You'll find them right after this article. Relate to the three categories that he cared.
The author of "The paths of Utopia" was yesterday said at the end of the examination: "Aldo, I have to go home. If you can write to your newspaper my plea. I urge the kidnappers to release your colleague, and my great teacher. I give the delegation. Today I will write my three new posts. I am confident in the sensitivity of Vincenzino. "
He added:" I thank your assistant for 28, since I knew nothing. "
last night came in a video editor. There was Cavallaro on top saying "Mmmmhhhh, well, get me out here because I'm not crazy with sti ... piùhhh. Then suddenly a shot: "And I say to my students that those who do not understand the question under consideration: TWELVE POINTS IN LESS! OKAY? "
The kidnappers then forgot to turn off the camera. In the background you could see the teacher who was gesturing in a crowd shouting, "Do not call me more!" Joseph laughed out loud with Vincenzino, and Prof. Cavallaro-eyed stare into the vacuum that said, "Well, I now call Penny , and say that everything went lisciohhh mmmhhh ... ... well, then we all go and 5 discotecahhh! ".... Whether it is a hoax suit
organized by Penny to advertise your site?

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THE LAMENT OF HEAVEN

What is left of your story?
E 'present only as an illusion,
conveyed by technology Digital
committed to making fake perfection.
an ideal world as the death of reality, where instead

you are all soldiers and the battle is fought every day.
I have removed several times and now
your skyscrapers are trying to challenge me
and dreams are the victims of progress.
You are now torn and split atoms,
ownership and success are the ideals,
poetry and frankness make you smile.
This is not what I wanted for you, you
attack several times to my health, and now you risk
gray.
Yet there are survivors of the truth, who does not pass
from hero to clown, who
breath to scream again: "no!"
If you happen to turn up his eyes, if you feel still that flicker
internal
only then you will live, and I'll be there.

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Guess Who - Third round

Uuuuuhhhhh, arieccoci immagnifici here with two other guests ... this time are very, very easy, my dear sirocco

First Guest: What has taken the high upstream
rewarded with great virtue at the bottom. Placido
him belong, without any metamorphosis.
reveal the hidden identity.


According Guests: Echoes what nightingale in the woods, not usually roam preferring
physical inactivity,
joy memorable goal in the sixth Romania!

Curtain and the end credits

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The model from "Groundhog Day three

However, one evening I was with my friend and our respective mothers at the restaurant St. John's "Groundhog Day three." It was a dinner organized by the mother of this girl adorabilissima to arrange a marriage. Too bad I'm still too young and then married her, I would become a regular guest of the psychiatric clinic, then was not even nice! But ... Come on, we come to the nub!
At the table next to our ... here was a girl, yes she was beautiful! Brown hair, long wavy hair, blue eyes, thin but with all accessories in place (my friends, boys, you understand me!) With her was a man, I thought it was her boyfriend. I noticed that glances but not much chance that I've done in me I thought of as I kneel in front of a just, not my name is George Clooney or Tom Cruise!
Then at one point has become a still picture: just looked down on me .... I began to believe that then look at me!
not know what to do! The girl was with what I thought was her boyfriend I was with my mother-in-law hood, with my mother and crazy! But I used to do?
auks my guests have noticed the feminine and my friend if they have out saying. "Let that be your girlfriend so you do not see anymore." Then I answered: "No! But do not bother ... everyone is free to do what he wants, if he wants to let her watch, no? ". Eh, eh! I was mad!
And here starts the experiment. Victim: The waiter in "Groundhog Day three." For when we brought the bill, I told him: "Look, but who is that girl who is looking all night?". "It 's a model, it is often here, but it really looks? Tell us a little '... so it ended up between me and the waiter who spoke at a table alone, while my three companions expected to go away ... The waiter told me, "thrown every left is lost, what do you care who is with what, at best distracting him I" .... a slaughterhouse!
Under pressure from both sides, I decided, as the king of balls, to satisfy the demands of my crazy childhood friend and leave. But I started to wink at this infamous model and she has remade ... Hhho! Maroooonna my! I feel bad! Water! I can not!
I went in the following months, again at dinner, "Groundhog Day three." Every time you went out to dinner I proposed that restaurant!
Just one question: you have the magazine is more blessed model?? Luckily, she often went there! When I think back to that dinner today I eat my hands! In fact, allow yourself to give the leave, it should be! If not I cut up the PC with a hammer!

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Well dear friends. I announce that the second host of the second round has been revealed. Our friend has three Coccia, eh! Soon there will be the next episode with two new guests! Coming soon new stories about my experiments! Soon there will be more excited about my thoughts .... Wait for me, in the meantime dimenticatemiiiiii!
Mine are just reflections. But I decided to ennoble this blog with poems themselves. Every now and put the poems of great poets chosen by me. Will choose on their own, the poems that struck me.
The first "distinguished guest", in that sense, Eugenio Montale. In the 3 following posts will soon be witness to my friends ... and thank you for your attendance!

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FAMOUS GUESTS FIRST SPRING Hitler

For me, this poem has a special memory: examining the discussion of maturity. It is part of the collection "The Storm and the other", released in 1956. Collects the poems from 1940 to 1952. They were special years. There was the Second World War, the rise of mass society, the rule of the DC and PCI did not lead to anything. All signals that, according to Montale, announce the decline not only of authentic values, but the entire Western civilization. The "storm" refers to the Second World War but also to such a catastrophe, "the other" to foreign events and following it.
This poem is part of the fifth section dela collection. A section in which the poet becomes aware of the crisis of values \u200b\u200band attempts to find new ones. The poetry can asolvere this task. It must escape from the "storm" is no longer on high, in the abstract but in concrete, in the "mud" of daily life. In the poem posted
alluded to a visit by Hitler in Florence. It 'was written in two stages: in 1939 and 1946. The head of Nazism is the "put hell "and his arrival in Florence is a desecration of the values \u200b\u200bof Western civilization. He is opposed Clizia (while the German is Hell, Clizia is Paradise), the bearer of true values. Montale asks if there is Hitler and the war, then what sense are the moments we spent with her ("All for nothing then?")? But at the end of the poem suggests a possible purchase and moths of snow, sad omen original, it becomes possible death "monsters": the death of Hitler and Mussolini.

Folta the white cloud of moths
crazy swirls around the shoulders and pale lights,
Lay a blanket on which Scricco
as the sugar foot; upcoming summer releases
now understand that freezing night in secret caves
the season, the orchards that
Maiano override these Renai.
recently on the course is passed to a flight made from a hellish
alal of brigands, a pit on
decked with crosses and took the hook and swallowed,
have closed the windows, poor and inoffensive though armed
also
guns and war toys,
has barred the butcher that
berry floral nose of kids killed, the feast of the myths
executioners still do not know the blood hath been turned into a foul
Trescone wings crashed,
larvae on floodplains, and water continues to gnaw
sides and no one is innocent.
All for nothing, then?-
Roman candles and St. John, who bleached lens
the horizon, and the pawns and the long goodbyes
strong as a baptism in the dismal waiting
Horde (a gem, but the staff 'air
dripping on the ice and the shores of your shores
angels of Tobit, the seven, seeding the future
) and heliotrope-born
from your hands all burned and sucked by a pollen
stride like a fire
and tips snibibbio
Oh ... the party is still plagued
spring freezes if
death in this life! See more
Above Clizia, it's your fate, you
that the non-mutated love changed Serbs
until the sun blind you in the Other ports
it dazzles and destroys
Him for tutti.Forse sirens , the chimes that greet
monsters in the evening
their horde, mingles with the sound
that detached from the sky, descends, won-
with the breath of dawn that tomorrow everyone will
white reappeared but without wings of horror, the burning shores of the south.

Eugenio Montale (The Storm and the other, Silvae, V sec.)