mp3 new songs and news at www.myspace.com / martinovergnano 
Since the month and season (autumn) I decided to give space and / or brush up songs of my first cd "autumn in a junkyard," so on my page myspace: www.myspace.com / martinovergnano these days as well as new photos and curiosity find 4 mp3 songs to listen and download, particularly since the fall of the leaves, will alternate songs from "autumn .." : "b cos - new version" , "please", "autumn in a junkyard" and so on throughout the autumn season ... I'm still finishing up arrange new songs. in more with the new live band that accompanies me we are developing a good repertoire of songs old and new mine and a few covers (ranging from Waterboys something the beatles sparklehorse, Rolling Stones, ALMOST bobdylan and then we'll see), rearranged for drums, bass, guitar, mandolin, accordion, violin and Hammond .... then follow us here: www.myspace.com / martinovergnano o come and see us in the rehearsal room at St. Antonino di Susa (TO) Italy, via ang turin. abbeg street near the elementary school, soon to new live dates in and around local taverns! for anything: advice, insults, floral tributes, blind dates, gifts, concerts, etc please contact us with confidence, we will reply!
creplakistan purple hills, a short poesiuola ... 
Oh violacce hills So the creplakistan
'serene, peaceful, away from the chaos
With those yellowish patches that put embarrassing to not know you
Violet and stained hills of creplakistan
Upon you grew generations of clear and honest people, people who still use
scappellarsi the passage of a lady, they say
sip instead of sucking
pain and suffering instead of the banal.
Oh ...
polite and cautious creplakistani,
by the river I met you, that your
river that runs free in the spring and impetuous
filled with water that seems
condensed milk, and sometimes takes on a sinister blood-red.
There 's rotten in creplakistan ... and e 'the national cake ...
Oh ... If he returns
'still laughing and grilling on your purple meadows
but be' more 'careful where to sit' the next time to avoid staining
and still look 'from my beloved , battered creplakistan
crowned by the sunset flight of flocks of birds long-beaked
flying fast to the wet line of the horizon of the hills
creplakistane.
written by Martin
vergnano (c) & (p) 2006
Poetry in 2006 
the 20-21-22 October 2006 was held on the fourth festival of poetry organized by Les Droles Giaveno (to) have participated in the Italian and French writers, there have been very intense moments where the various writers who read their poems in French and then re-read in Italian and vice versa, I also attended 20 and Friday I read a Avigliana of me and "kind of poems that were included in the anthology this year's festival. that emotion see my writings placed in the middle of many beautiful poems and more with the French translation. even more exciting was to hear read my poem in French by a French writer. more around the valley were put up posters of the festival with poems written in capital letters and appeared among them an old thing ever written back in 1997 when I was still a young man so romantic. Then there was the slam session at the cafe roma Giaveno, musical interludes, free session at the tables where I unsheathed my flute and I played with friends who had not seen for several years (Walter ... great! yeah!) short It was a nice opportunity to meet with writers of all ages and nationalities, a heartfelt thanks to the association of independent artists, poets and writers of Giaveno DROLES LES (to) www.les-droles . net during the year of evenings of poetry reading in Giaveno, Avignon, etc., followed the next date on their site. hello. hereinafter referred to as beloved to the last day, "read poetry for the festival on Friday 20 Avigliana: beloved until the last day, the sky is gray ...
, unbearably hot and sweaty panting
people from all parts
to be sipped
until the last day
beloved home, car, tele, boobs, cocks, rubber
work safely accumulated and inherited wealth and well, needless
play like a crappy song on the radio but only the commercial
'last days
beloved oh!
my long days of indecision, fooling around, uselessly
for another hot, dry days
endless annoying oh! People that I never wanted to meet them
share the overwhelming smell of sweat, breath and disgusted that
invade the nostrils of those who would prefer not having to pay for ... oh ... breathe
people, people to put up until the last
day and all the crying,
cry because we were taught,
cry because you have to do ..
work because we were told, because you have to do work
beloved until the last day
days chock-full of saints and ghosts that await the last day toiling
& accumulating money ...
crowded cities of
ghosts with the money and the pension fund
saints who await the last day accumulating certainty for their descendants
vegetating bright and interesting aperitifs
successful guys drunk and floured small parties to pool
ghosts merry fucking trendy clothes
ass holy flying here and there for the world
coated prophets who wait on the last day
teaching how scary the holy
nothing ... and they are afraid
So .. money to defeat it, travel,
houses, land, cars away
... ... until the last day
beloved
plugging away until the very end to pull out in front of the computer
And dream a better world,
a better job, a best woman, best boobs, etc. until the last
to wallow in suffering and illusion
taking a look at actions that rise
and one on the cock
that eventually loses the battle with gravity
until the last day
beloved until the last bus on those crowded on those
suv with sweater and scarf to avoid being cheated by
'air conditioning
still direct the work, the sea, at the funeral,
yours, mine, his
directed by the lover, his uncle, the mother-in-law, the former wife,
Advocate, the scalper, to the dealer to find life, to pretend that
... ... until the last day beloved. What then, however, comes
... for everyone!
