Three days left
that’s all the time you have…
to love, to hate, to breath and get out of bed,
punch a monster in the face
slap the hands of thorn disgrace,
you don’t need light to see your heart –
not looking is what makes it hard…
What would you do?
all these feelings burning deep in you,
the numbers never cheat
nor does longing for the truth,
we are only two
an equation limiting itself to you –
the one…
Rise and shine my morning star, breathe in air and feed on light,
fight the ghosts with found new heart
don’t wait long for I’m not far,
in the valley of despair salt does melt and builds up hope
for the prayers that’d been told the dull dust may turn to gold
and the small steps that you took bring you closer to the truth,
needles and pins are painted green
and the youth that held your soul has evolved to so much more
and these bricks to make up walls went instead to patch up holes
in the houses where it’s cold
in the hands of those who fold…
Rise with mornings in the sun, naked feet to wash out dew
eyes wide open to the deeper blue
and I’ll love you to my bones where the dreams may come to…
Let’s head back to Lisbon
take a tramway 28 to the old city arch,
you and me writing present day
sailing onto Fado up to Cristo Rei…
The morning is fine with coffee and wine
sleeping till noon the Christmas tree blooms,
cloudy the sky my heart is so high
the sun doesn’t shine but you do…
I’m falling once more like never before
the sea that was cold turned into gold
and dreams we share are arms to hold
a house of stone for love to grow…
Friday night, half light
drinking wine and playing indie tunes
stories come and dreamers go
I close my eyes and let the true love flow,
the dog makes traces running in the snow
and kids throw echos in the fort they sleep –
and I found Alice…
Half asleep, my angel crying
no one takes me to the Moulin Rouge,
my friends work decent jobs that pay
and in the rush of celebration build a home
to put candles and the fame on Christmas trees,
I beg them to believe
true love needs no sparkling fees…
Starry night, half dark, half bright
my hands run highways in her eyes
I embrace the life of Stephan Angst
and pour rivers to oceans from my soul,
the sinners are forgiven
with paper airplanes never reaching dawn,
Alice called the priest for both…
One Friday morning chasing cold away,
slightly raining, fast to walk
I had everything I’ve ever dreamed,
love awakes me for my team
soldier for a good cause,
I got a firm handshake as foretold…
Hunting moments on a bed of clouds
lips paint warm hues in the mind,
garden of the kings, waiting for the Queen
we wrote stories dancing on vinyls,
and waiting for a while and hoping wishes
a second train ran her to the south…
Étant toujours à Milan, hier soir j’ai fait une rencontre complètement inattendue. Je n’avais pas vu Riccardo depuis quelques années. Pour être plus exact, depuis son départ de Cochin en avril 2016. J’étais en train d’acheter, un mot en anglais, un mot en italien, de la mozzarella di Bufala dans un marché loin du centre, et cela m’a fait souvenir un des voyages de Riccardo quand, en rentrant à Paris, il nous a amené de la véritable Bufala. C’était un délice culinaire !
One day I’ll be thirty-three
and thirst will pass and love remains
no hunger for deception
no clouds to hide a sunset from the beauty
everything shall pass and I will ride my bridge again;
My heart stays pure
the hands will hold her tight,
we’ll be happy
we’ll be kind
only love survives….
You make me smile and I bring you waffles
there are roses in a jar and the coffee’s whistling,
hidden once more under the blankets
I read you stories from the morning paper
and Steve ran out and is waking up the neighbors…
Your opera stance is mostly garbage
but you have all of Mark Knopfler on vinyl
and that’s really fine for my dancing skills blow,
but when out walking our steps rhyme
and when indoors crying it’s like everybody died…
You worry too much where I imagine crazy stuff
and it’s bad for cholesterol and for both our hearts
but you make me smile and I make you pies,
I am an ungrateful bastard every once in a while
so I write you poems and you tend to forgive…
“Your mistakes are your best teachers”
no word about chicken in your fortune cookies
so I promised to stay up to the journey’s end,
when you look up at me I get warm and fuzzy
and hands lock like lovers on that bridge in Köln…
You gave me a painting and so many books to read
I have the plant you brought to groom and grow
and I live in France and have croissants everyday,
there’s a place you also love where I’d like to go
it’s up in the mountains not far from home…
Far away from home
swimming in the cold sea all alone,
I put trust in my Holy Father
then I shout the name I hold
and send waves to endless borders…
I believe in the stars I saw
there is more to it than a dark and silent whole,
they struck chords of a harp I own
and poured kisses in my soul –
I’m a thief and took your years and keep them locked,
Bruce may tell the stories in the end
but this day I quit rising walls that break
and start riding with myself…
New Year’s eve in Times Square and the sunrise at lake Braies,
I was blind and now I dream,
life is short and my shirt caught fire
and roses burn on a highway to the south
wild and free,
my heart is never tiered…
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 