This is my Sunday ( after the cocktail )

The blue light

and the tiny color behind

over a bench and dying 

like an old day the present

over a stuck of paper

with letters and shapes

undone

always real and wet 

appreciative of a slightly incoherent thought 

Here in the nordic face of earth 

the translation of kindness 

difficult trip of breath over the conscious of this child.

by The Shortfellow

New York City

29/03/15

The Reason

Today

you will put back your life together

from the remotes parts on earth to the corners of the still unknown areas of the vast universe

you most never forget

you are a universe on your own

you purity is not purity anywhere else and may be stained at some point of its cycle making it even more powerful because the space created by that stain comes from love

and passion of living perhaps a dream somebody else dream of you

Today to the graceful notes of a guitar 

and this full meal in front of you 

Life will come together for you to play with it

and from the very beginning of the day you will nail the pieces of a game without knowing the end because you know is no use of it 

no use in knowing it

you may stay put in that game because your concerns may were sombody else concerns way before they were your concerns in orther for you to play so the game was nothing but joy for you to play with

you are alone Yes ! 

is okay you may find out that no body say we are in groups that we have to

Today or any other day when you may feel absurd in your own existence even then there is a reason to be that or this and even not to be anything in particular 

see ? 

Today I am here with you and you are able to write a note for yourself and I.

by The Shortfellow

New York City 

22/03/15

The Content -1

The things that I think

the things that I write 

the ones I push on and the ones I let go

dropped unnecessarily

the ones beating on the top of my spiritual existence and the ones that does not apply to nobody but myself

my skin interest and the prose coming from my veins tracks 

this walking of my shield need to be done soon 

or later 

or even way past my life but need to be done

yes right there where my clues are glue to me and yet nothing of my own.

by The Shortfellow

New York City 

19/03/15

Modified Version 

The things that I think

the things that I write 

the ones I push on 

and the ones I let go,

The things,

I dropped unnecessarily,

The ones beating on the top of my spiritual existence

and the ones that does not apply to nobody but myself,

My skin interest 

and the prose coming out from my vein’s tracks,

 

This walking of my shield,

These things need to be done soon 

or later, 

or even way after my life is gone 

but these things, need to be done,

Yes! Right there,

where my clues are glued to myself

and yet nothing is of my own.

by The Shortfellow

New York, 21/11/21

Seafood for one

I just watched a movie

refreshing lines about reality 

and the time when we stop being useful

admirable the landscape of their mind

they

so foreign the term of insane distance

and I just remember the name of these two 

chopsticks 

culinary concept about somebody leaving earth

coming back and taking revenge on the soil like there will not be tomorrow 

again

so forgettable the loose 

so adorable the truth when is a far away place

like the heart from the brain 

different countries an different shame 

in the end 

in the end, nothing

nothing but objects and this cantonese soup waiting

smoking waiting

steaming I mean

the walls and the tables

seafood and a beautiful actress 

fresh like my memory

Childhood was good 

here and now 

the approximation of the stars  

long run 

seating here

just having dinner.

by The Shortfellow

New York City

28/02/15