Friday Sept. 22, I participated for the first time in my life (at 30 years played) at a public reading of poetry, the evening is organized by the poets of freedom "Les Droles"
www.les-droles.net (their site).
a lot of poets-writers, they took turns at the microphone to read their poems, the evening was dedicated to Bukowsky (charles. vladimir ... .. there is) so someone has read some of his poetry.
after a couple of Polish or Armenian liters of beer (can not remember +) I went to the microphone to read something, too, was a nice evening ... Bukowsky's face that said something like (but incorrect phrase juice is ..) It is better not to know writers, is like too many flies on the same shit .... or something ...
maybe he is right, but sometimes it's nice to read and listen to unknown in the flesh who are busy with their leaves fluttering to the microphone ...
below I am attaching some of my "kind of poetry written text ... spontaneous ..."
(untitled):
All the places I've seen
Everywhere I've been there already
was someone else I said that's great, we would live here
And someone else has really lived and really left a mark there.
Everything I write, I do,
seems someone else has already done ...
women who dream
someone else has already made
fall in love with the cat who loves to have died
spiders that kept me company
hanged themselves in their webs
the grape that is dried
would like to take the sharp and brilliant ideas I have in the middle of the night
turn out empty cans and rusty in the morning.
I talk to second-hand phrases,
as well as my clothes and my old shoes smashed
then there was the scandal in the manufacture of underwear,
those that use new and I thought ... at least those used for the
... wash the floors before you sell.
Once, but once I told a girl that was beautiful
2 pounds and she left happy. I
hung the Stars and Stripes and all the burning,
I hit a dog, I pushed an old woman, I spit on the ground, and I told him to be tough.
Bukowsky Jeff Buckley and did well to die and Bob Dylan had better get a move on!
I also told a guy who wrote things that were interesting, while people insulted him.
Then someone farted in the elevator and I joined those who said that smell!
And I lied because it gave me any trouble,
really I do not care about the smell of warm garlic and eggs expired.
Then at home I put on my record and I said, is that this is a good song! And
little did I care if someone had already written and so on.
so I have got a smile in the mirror and I spent a lovely evening and
That "someone else" I broke the balls until the day after.
Written by / Written by: Martin
vergnano
There is nothing special about a sunny day (in my part ..)
All work you see? Everyone is smiling except me
I come from
The search for truth is a fabrication
And soon you'll see
I'm trying to say something useless
E then you are not interested
There is nothing special about a sunny day
There is nothing special about a sunny day
I'm glad it is always winter in my part
I'm glad it is always dark when they are awake
There is always a bit 'of pain in my part
& always falls a few tears in my part ...
written by / written by: martino
vergnano
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