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 | Blogs > giese > amore, sogni, e pasta mista > No Victors Here |
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giese
8/24/2008 6:32 pmLast Read: |
Golden flakes from your teeth rain down like yellow snow, a powerful performance, insanity made real. The gangland signs you spat with fingers numb with cold simply sheltered your existence in the underclass, helping you to disappear. Now death shakes your cage night and day, impervious to the revolutionary credo, while blood bubbles from your mouth -- the metallic taste just won't wash out -- eyes sealed shut, puffed to pieces. The standard black and blue mottling towards your cheeks is a tale that may be sold to the masses, watching what passes for news in these parts, an intricate lacing of lies so layered it can never be entirely unwound. Outwardly appalled, the devil in us all is pleased at the vilest atrocities we can and have so quickly gotten used to. I lost three fingers, tortured with a Turkish knife. Blood oozed from the wounds like molasses, reminiscent of rich cherry syrup, effortlessly conjuring up the time before mere sweets became extremely exotic delicacies. And you, you lost your eyes, wandering through a fog of poisonous gas, while our leaders lost their minds, guiding the entire nation straight into hell. They say we are the lucky ones, not leaving life, yet not quite living, buried in the grey of in between, scavaging trash for the tiniest scraps, starving skeletons with paper thin skin. From early morning through deepest night I listen to the agony of this wounded mass of humanity, gasping and screaming amidst soiled sheets, lice, bugs, and rats the only company in their beds. There are no longer enough capable people to care for the living or bury the dead. We wait, in perfect complicity, almost without breathing, wondering what new disaster may now lie in store, the outcome of this bitter war, awash in terror and tears. we look at each other without seeing, reality spilling from our eyes. When all is said and done even the "victors" do not win. |
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9/17/2008 12:26 pm |
Cara Giese, mi fa piacere leggere ogni tanto il tuo blog che tu continui ad alimentare con tanta passione e poesia. Perchč non scrivi pił in italiano? Come stai? Se vuoi puoi farti sentire. Ciao!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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9/27/2008 6:15 pm |
Ciao ciao igor. Sto bene, e sono fleice sentire che sei ancora qui in questo sito che secondo me, e' andato giu' dal tempo quando ci abbiamo conosciuto. Beh, non so, non credo d'essere capace sempre a scrivere in italiano, ma prima o poi provero' ancora, non preoccuparti, e' solo che mi posso esprimere meglio nella mia lingua madre. Tutto qua. ciao ciao!!!
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