Angel- God- Pray

Angel
Smell his skin of narcissus and underworlds.
The eyes are stars, attracting cosmic spaces.
Descendants of history, dark pasts' remover.
The disease of an angel
The angel himself.

God
The universe his power & behind.
Time and space, his though.
Natural selection, the hand of god.
The Life, his breath.
The beginning and the infinite are his age.
Humans are his joy and his pain.

Pray.
Lord forgives what we have been.
Amend what we are.
And direct what we shall be. A-man

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poem by Luca Menin
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Undone

I smoke a fag,
with a coffee mug,
The morning is mad.
It as corked head,

The room is a mess,
and broken chair.
The table undone
With crumble buns
and slices of ham.

The book shell
is a mess as well
of a picture holder
of dusty folder.

The walls are warm
the heater is on.
The fish are sunk
in the square tank.

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poem by Luca Menin
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Hangover

You don't have the power.
Cigarettes' smoking
Drinking snorkelling
Sex disposal, used body.
Neglected mind.

The wick soul, his losing power.
Noisy morning, framed by rumours' pictures.
Morning kitchen.

Blur view
Ash butts
Coffee jar, mugs
Coffee stains in a teaspoon.
Chemical bottle spray.
Flies

Observing from the little door, falling spelling magnets
Knives, sharper water bath.
Mirrors reflecting, vanishing vanity.

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poem by Luca Menin
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Tired, I Rest

Life and death are meant to share,
embracing, holding hands.
Concern full of joy,
Falling in love
Penetrate, quick disappearing,
like a long day, in a forest rain
A nice position to rest
Like a wild animal, hunting flies, in chambers of green mirrors.
Chanting birds, falling in love with austere wings
Knocking of light doors,
Mould wood, and golden handle.
Tired, I lay down, between memories, and my head.
At the fresh air, that the window blow,
my head rest, flooded of dreams,
from sheet of wormed cheek's
relief, from the rumours of the life frames.

poem by Luca Menin
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Spring is coming

Amazing maze, shout on the sun, melt my eyes of child blur view.
Sprout blossom of ivy claiming springs' walls
Of underwater colours, touch the ground.
Tree holding, little hands of flowers.

Rust land on tail stone edge, murmuring in the wind
Refresh my month, in April sun.
Ceramic vase of violet lavender perfume the fences.
Festival of nectar, around the street rejoice in the sky.

Juicy colours, drunk by the pine top.
Green is the colour, predominant on my face.
I Prise the peace, and the silence resting on the sparrow's nest.
While spiders sow their webs.

poem by Luca Menin
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Tall shadow

Tall shadow of grass, cover in sweet pollen of flower's springs.
Hide from a wall of green woods and streams.
It Is the flavour the skin, reddened by the sun.
Left bare, like chaste grapefruits.

The breeze penetrates through the cracks of the trees.
Immaculate of resin,
bowing at the sky
Our body languid, flirt of laziness

We belong to the earth and wind.
Which I offered the sacrifice
of shades and revive mind.
Twittering at the wind, under the bird wings

Columns of light tan,
shaded by thick tree's skin
Re-emerged from the mellow sea
Flowing walks....

poem by Luca Menin
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Fishing house

Memories are grumbling.
The kettles are rumbling.
Fishing house, where the boats float innocent waves.
Glow reflected by the water,

Sandy seabed, my eyes remind.
Of the grey mullet fish, and furry cat fish.
Crabs hide and seek, stones and reefs,
So pure currents within the water stream.

Under the bridge, the seaweed adorns
the rumours of waves slamming pillars.
A boat passing near,
sail the nets and hunt the eels.

Ropes become tangled,
where dry seahorses running no more.
The recall of the water, reflect the nets that I drown,
to catch the girl I loved.

poem by Luca Menin
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Modern Life View

Modern life view,
the cat observes from the little eye.
The castrate tree.
Forecast of the body
Skyscraper eyes
Necklaces and rings, of
Natural selection and physics
Rocks are 90% empty.
Worthless reading
Write on Guilt and sad
Bird in the sky on the
morning stands by.
Cruel nature,
Dying bee in a street of concrete
Feed of man
100 deaths are just numbers,
Leave it to the fate
The flow erected to penetrate.
The pants, where your hand molests.
The angels games

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poem by Luca Menin
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Shadow

Shape of everything, made of black reflection.
Contrasted from the yellow sun on the bricks' wall.
Body without face, passage without a view.
Figure that you cannot interview.

Shadow, snitcher of light
Hide, from fences of eyes,
For reaper strong and weird.

From the tree blow by the wind,
The leafs fly, attached to the pavements' sky.
Mixing around, invisible outline.
Of a cone pointed shape of irregular shade.

And the smoke held by the tree hock.
Heat the warm floor, of spots & shoots.
Intoxicating the shadow, like through harrow.
Fading away on the windy shallow.

poem by Luca Menin
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My eyes whisper...

My eyes whisper lies,
hoodwinked passing.
Comfortable blue chair, bones share in & out.
Blowing faces flee the trees.

You never knew, how to wear their shoes.
Cruel day of raining steps on the melting window
Reflect my ghost,
like a filming pellicle ACTION...

Leaving station, by the host, home of some famous name
I toward east -Transylvanian seasons.
Like vampires, emigrate to mallards.
Lost direction carry by the cloud on the fast sky.

Little child, little child of mine, his face hides.
Between the comfortable laps,
The child cry tears of wet car fur.
On silver stones.

poem by Luca Menin
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