Different State of Mind

See the invisible and make it real. I observe and write, then poetry appears. Follow me and let's inspire each other.

[erika-giamb]

More machines means more machine production systems, which will be, at all odds, run by machines themselves. But, this also means massive exploitation of earth's natural resources. What about that? Will human kind take care of that or we will just stay there, watching machines do the job for us and destroy our environment? Or will we come up with some kind of solution that finally reconnets us to nature and respect for it? Of course technology could help as well in recycling materials, but there are some, such as plastic or metallic components. The ones which computers and circuits are made of. The one which end up in some dump in China or Africa, handled by people who get very serious deseases due to exposition to such kind of substances. Are we even thinking about the air we breathe? Pollution is not a secondary issue. I prefer to live an healty life more than not having to work.

[erika-giamb]

Hey you, grog drunken!

Well, if you are a pirate I’ll be your Cape Horn Far away from everywhere Dangerous and stormy Hard to reach As much as to catch.

You wander across the harbors And every sea happens to seem the same to you But if you get here You’ll realize you have known nothing ‘til now.

I’m the unpredictable I’m the dark horse I’m endless No one can seize me.

[erika-giamb]

Joy

I’m joy today And I’m spread All over the place

I’m joy today And I walk with the sun Sing with the leaves Flow with the river.

I’m joy today And smiling brightly Light’s all around me

I’m joy today And you showed me How to set it free You saw it In every part of me And I thought I had lost it

But I’m joy, today Because you are.

[erika-giamb]

To me quickly, my darling

Y‘all come to  “Ye old sow” Look for that Dark hair’d Leather sweathed Buddy Mister Dexter Mean Swallowin’ an old scotch in the corner Gold fiches ‘round his neck Slappin’ his tongue to call his mistress Lola Foule She comes by totally piss’d. “Hey hunny Gotta have a word with Tex the High 'Bout that big load, ya know, and perhaps A night match with da crew” “I’m too busy bangin’ Donnie boy in the toilet darlin’ Let me get some bucks that’s all I’m into, you idiot.” “Take a sip first you, my jangling bitch” “You bet on it”. Cops pass through the door Dexter Mean is lightin’ on a cig And miss Lola Foule has the right spark Man how smart she is had dropped off his gun “He’s here you jerks!” A bunch of bullets whistlin’ in the air The boss is gone And Lola owns now The Black Cowboy Hat.

[erika-giamb]

Wandering in Time

  I wish my seasons were run by the wind By blossoms in spring Waiting for summertime to come Gathering the land’s gifts under the red sun Tilling her tired substance Watching the budlets rest underneath the snow. I wish my seasons were run by migrations By skies landscapes' falling stars turning By the sun going far away in space By the moon getting closer By tides calling men to the sea By melting ices filling the streams. I wish my seasons didn’t follow the time Of the clock’s needles going on alone Of the calendar’s paper coming down Of life’s phases written in numbers Of round trip travels Of dates of maturity glued on unions.

[erika-giamb]

Too much quiet

Sometimes recharging turns into idle

and energy starts to dissipate

from the very maximum of its capacity.

Sometimes recharging is useful and necessary

they say...

I wan to be always undercharged

I wan to suck the last drop of life

I wan to lay senseless

and walk and live as if there was no tomorrow

as if I wasn't to recharge for something

but urged by the sake of life.

Do not charge:

Spin.

[erika-giamb]

Big Head

Big head was a villein And he had a tiny poor mind He used to sit and wait ‘Til his cows were back at eight His cows were all he thought about And that’s not completely his fault He knew them one by one by name There was Betty, with daises in her hair And there was Kelly, mad about fruit jelly And Rona and Mara, twins of crystal laugh And Carol and Jane, of life they couldn’t get enough. There were other twenty-four But these are the ones he could have died for. The cows were Big Head’s brides And no bull was allowed to cross the edge He had built to keep his heaven safe. But some edges are bound trespassing And one day a cock came along Looking for a good chick He said:- “Just ask me what you want. I’ll join you because you are a lonely man, Just trying to find your place here While you stare at your cows all day.” “Yeah we could arrange something And make it work for us”. So the man and the cock Started seeking over the sky Something to be inspired by. The cows were mourning in hunger As the two were standing still And yet could find no way To see behind that hill.

[erika-giamb]

Autumn haze dream in the woods

I was running along the countryside. The ground was slippery, wet because of the rain had fallen hard during the night. I went across a narrow path sourrounded by trees getting yellow in the pale light of an october morning. On the right side of the path, I saw a herd of sheeps grassing in the fresh haze, underneath a thick wood. They heard my footsteps and got mad. The sheeps started to fly off in every direction, crashing into each others.

"You are scaring the sheeps!", the shepherd yelled at me.

He was sitting under a tree, holding a crook in his hand, smoking a big cigar. He was dressed in brown and green, so that he could perfectly merge with the forest.

"I know - I answered as my breath went short, because I was frightened too and also running faster - I must be a wolf in disguise."

He laughed. That laugh pierced my head. I felt a strong pain through my whole body and then I was running again. I was shifting across the trees, heading towards the mountain. I was like refilled with power and strenght. I waited for the night to come, then I went home. Before I entered by the back door, I took a gaze at the moon, and howled at it.

"Why are you howling at the moon?", it was my sister, staring at me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"I'm a wolf." That's all I could say.

I walked into my room and checked out on my phone. Someone had texted me, but the number was not in my address book. And yet I knew it, I had been knowing it for a long time. Maybe I was waiting for that message, maybe the moon heard me.

"Come out, please, I want to feed you."

I watched out of the window, through the curtains. The street was dark, the lights went out. Sparkling eyes flashed in front of me. I heard a hiss, then a slow rustle among the dry leaves on the ground. I took my phone and started texting back.

"I might be hungry. Nevertheless, I prefer to stay so. But I leave the foolish to you."

I locked the window. Locked the door. And waited for the sheeps to leave my backyard.

By

Erika Giambattista

[erika-giamb]

Just go

Go ahead

Wandering across

The neverending

Doubt freeway

The field of possibilities

Looks forward

To the future.

[erika-giamb]

Basin City

It was shower time. The moment when billions of small holes opened on the groundfacing surface of the suspended bowl-shaped building that overtops the city. Thanks to those massive basins-looking like structures, we could still have water.

But the city was dry and dirty. It was dusty as were its inhabitants' throats. And corroded.

I was wandering down some sandy alley when the shower begun. I took my tongue out of my mouth for a while, then rushed inside a pub. Lines of white lights glimmered in the green atmosphere of vitamin liquids.

Water was not made for humans to enjoy it anymore, but to perpetrate our species only, to make us possible. It used to be synonymous of life, and it still was, somehow.

Along with the city washing comes the feeding and the breeding of new individuals, those who lay underground. Where water finds the end of its journey.

The showers were less and less frequent. It had not been raining enough to keep everyone alive.

They hadn't even opened the valve to irrigate the surrounding crops in a while. But still, the city survived in the metallic reflection of the basin, in the diffracted light of the shining sun disc mirrored on its iron surface, in the dept of its mild waters.

Those drops on my tongue felt acid and bad tasting, it was clearly going worse since water had been declared damaging for human consumption due to pollution.

At least if was for those of us who were born following our biological nature. Now, that water and earth were so irremediably wasted and ruined, there was only one way to survive: adapt. And to adapt, they decided to forge a new, ultra resisting race of humans, those grown by polluted elements themselves. Water flooding the undergrounds, where pregnant ladies rest for nine months, their lungs filled with carbon dioxide, and now and then washed up by a shower, then replaced with new pumps. And at the due time the residual, what is left after a shower, is the trace of a new being at some initial stadium of his evolution.

Same for the food, which was our, for us biologically generated humans, mean of transition. The crops were very well furnished. We had everything, but everything was rotten and yet we had to eat it because it was all was left.

So many of us died in the process of adaption. I lived because I am a hard smoker, cancer told my body that all he had to do was to go along with the degeneration of the tumorous cells and become disease itself.