Saturday 10th May 2008

1997. Night poems written in one go, in a special communion with male and female Angels. At the end he begged them to give up the unbearable poetic puff.

 

 

Faith and gardens

We will find the man of faith

Only in the gardens of prophets.

Thanks to the moon and sea

When a young priest,

Hot from Saint Thomas and his 5 paths,

Asked the young fisherman,

Given to me for the catechism:

Why do you believe in God ?

When I see the moon rising from the sea

– he said only –

I cry.

Well, now, at 60,

I also believe only

Thanks to the moon and the sea.

Christmas vision

This night

A silver deer stopped

Under my window.

An angel came down.

Pulsatile and radiant.

Globe of love and joy.

Apocalypse

Seagulls laugh.

Sings the sea.

I Am.

At the end

Things, so strangers to each other, at the end, will kiss each other.

And the Canticle of Canticles will be the only Bible and the only Koran.

God will be everything.

Religions and the churches finally nothing.

Paradise

Longing, as I was, of dreaming gardens,

This night I have not dreamt.

Canticle of the Canticles

Summer has blown up.

The earth sobs happiness.

Night experience

I am a stream, waterfall, Niagara.

I am spirit.

I am Universe.

Looking at the Crucified

You pick me up in Your hands

And take me to Your lips,

Humble water

Oh God of pain and desert.

Me

Last night I sang.

It was not me.

You, oh God, were me.

Death.

The light is filled with green.

I have arrived.

Without.

What would sex be without lips,

What words without sound,

God without angels?

Everything

What’s spirit?

Water, sound,

rose, oak,

me, you,

everyone, everything,

those verses.

Death

The last wall has fallen down,

The Universe is a rose.

White.

The End

Beyond the snowfields,

Under the blue of thousand moons,

Towards the Great Listening.

Special effects

I like special effects very much.

That’s why I prefer the earth than Paradise

S.Giovanni Rotondo 1959

In the dusk of the little church

vidi gli occhi di Padre Pio in ginocchio:

thanks to those eyes

I became a priest.

Uneasily

in a too much practical church.

Apocalypse

Apocalypse horses

Whinny under the whip of the green angel.

The cup is full

Unaware guests

The children closed forever

In the fairies’ books.

I want

I want to praise You, Lord,

With all my strings

And all my stones.

Hesitations

To leave the body in a love twist

Or stay there

As in a love tent.

Bilocation (Padre Pio)

The spirit

Throws it self from the body

Like from a board of stars.

I have imagined God:

He has the skin of a bride.

I pronounce acts of faith

In the background of the universal pain.

I can no longer control myself.

Bloom and swing angels

On the slight peak of the soul.

Can you live

with such an intensity?

On the edge of the extreme Pain

And the extreme Love?

I cry for joy and pain writing

Stranger angel.

Look at my body: the heaviest wing.

My life essence is: I Believe.

My lips word: I Love.

But they are heart lips.

Summing up the universal poem

in a verse, in a letter,

in a point, in White.

The non-color of silence.

I go up to the Divine Grotto

with San Giovanni of the Cross:

I cannot hear the seagulls anymore.

Everything a sun.

Until when will you bear it

my heart?

Brighten up.

The grasp of an angel

Will take you

To the Kiss without lips forever.

Temptation

The first temptation of Baby Jesus:

To smile only to the ox and donkey.

Sky dogs

Sleepless night

But I must write

Chased by all the sky dogs.

The body deceives itself to be solid,

But it is only a river pebble,

A stone of the spirit.

Apocalypse 21

The woman dressed with sun

Has nothing to do

With the women dressed with nothing.

Faces burning

I cannot see the sea anymore.

I cannot see the pain anymore,

But only faces burning.

As a cloud

I have found deep inside my soul

My child rocking horse;

It whinnied at me joyfully.

I have ridden it,

As a cloud.

Railroads

As a child I liked to go to the station

And watch the railroads

Going to mysterious distances.

At 60

I stop under my the platform roof of my heart

Fascinated and intrigued by the only mystery:

God.

Himalaya

On the Himalaya of the soul

I have met green steinbocks,

Yellow rainbows.

I have heard the particular call of the snow cock.

And, in the flowers of white silence,

Rustle angels and dead.

Advent

Mary, silence of the first Advent.

Mary, Prophet of the second Advent.

Collision

Mary and Satan:

two stars in collision.

Monopoli insinuates itself

In my heart

Sweet water snake.

Jesus tells his disciples:

I will come to take you soon.

For 2000 years we have waited,

Lord.

Forgive us.

We do not have about the time

the rigor of Your humor.

Lourdes

I am washed by joy.

Considerations

The body can become lighter than air.

The body can become transparent.

The spirit can come out from the body

Or act far from one’s body.

You can enter in a heart

and see it from inside.

You can enter in a heart

And diagnose it .

You can come out from your age

and enter in another.

You can enlarge or contract time

As you like.

Conclusion.

Wonderful gifts, but fleas of light

On the blanket of God’s magnificence.

Domenica laetare

Through the crowd.

It is terrible to hear the rock of hearts

Under the wave of the bodies.

Infernalia

The anti-Christ is nice.

Anti-Christs are obvious.

Only Christ is an hysterical.

He said

If you do not become like these children…

But our culture has erased them,

Making them adults.

You must caress dogs.

Only dogs.

Not to be thought as a pedophile.

 

Civitavecchia ’97

We have pierced him.

Even these tears fall down uselessly.

It is the last night.

The new dawn has already set.

 

If you love, you are a phenomenon, if you’re lucky.

Otherwise a psychopathic.

 

8 May 2008. Celebration of the apparitions of the Archangel Michele on the Gargano.

He saw, in his dream, the Archangel flagellated. And wrote: angels have identified themselves in the Passion of the Word. Empathy of the sublime in the ig-noble.

 

Satan is overwhelmed by the Sublime in itself. It sinks in it. It does not tolerate commixtures catabasis incarnations. It worships the Sublime, not Love.

 

When we love Jesus, the Gifts of Spirit look for us, when we love Jesus till the cross, the Gifts overwhelm us.

 

The righteous person lives and dies for the un-righteous ones. The Positive is in function of the Negative healing. This is one of the most dizzying intuitions of Hebraism. Sung by Isaiah, incarnated and made flesh by Jesus.

 

At the beginning Spirit caused the longing for the most sublime Gifts in the novice, but it was satisfied educating him at the Gift of gifts, the Word made flesh, limited, obfuscated, humiliated, crucified.

It put in him the absolute love for Christ, taking him away from It, in a way.

 

The shoulders and the back of the Archangel were white like a baby’s body. They were so cute. The novice was surprised: he could see neither glory nor power, but frailty delicacy defenselessness. And a skin blood-striped.

 

The Word and the angels are similar for sensibility.

This article is available in Italian too