PoetryMagazine.com

Gabriella Garofalo
ITALY

 

Gabriella Garofalo was born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of ďLo sguardo di OrfeoĒ; ďLíinverno di vetroĒ; ďDi altre stelle polariĒ; ďBlue branches"

 

Corpselike,
Dazzled by theorems, charms and lilacs
My mind ejected against God,
But my heat failed to get him, darn, not even a graze,
So he smiled, maybe thinking my mind was
A squirt of Coke suddenly splashing off  -
This is the night swag I find in my cupboard,
Rattly words, Escher stairs, falling limbs,
Yet you smile, say thanks, ever thought
Iíve been starving all my life for blasts,
Spliffs, whims, blessed Catherine wheels
On Gunpowder Night?  -
Shift change, itís my turn now:
For the light she never saw
For the wrath she never shed
Do shake, earth, in glee and nonchalance  -
Too many eyes at the art den, too much white,
Too many lovers in the keep harking to hot jazz,
Too many women with four eyes, of course,
As they see wise and beyond,
Except wrath shouts louder
If you canít blind her voice  -
Wonder why so many eyes, you say?  -
Oh, play along, just play the good olí game,
Delays, flirty smiles, more delays,
Itís safer, mind, simple as that,
Nasty shame he wasnít impressed
When he first saw her  -
What, not even once?
Never, I say, or do you mean itís ice?
Nope, for pictured ladies and pliant muses
Itís just bedazzling white.







Change  food, change sky, change everything:
No time, no masks tonight, get a move, quick,
Newlyweds are splitting up,
Some children are born stones,
Some streams or gales, yet she swears
Beasts get silent deaths,
That bloody liar with her spoilt chums -
Letís hit back, címon, no entry
For pastel shades here, sorry,
Only navy blue, dark green get the pass
And where the heck is Cassandraís stare,
Grab it asap, only those eyes
Can taser to death the boss of our suburbia
Where the days hand over at gunpoint
All colours to darkness and peeps see nothing,
Too busy fooling around -
The sky? Oh, shaking with rage as ever,
The eerie blue light few souls can spot:
Please donít blame them if they hang out with quasars,
You didnít scorch the rain for overstaying, did you?
So what? Look, no point trusting a rage
So blue, so weird, who sulks like a rejected lover
Bet she íll go over to the first winds that blow -
A blizzard, then? No, our first merc eloped
With some guys picked up on a whim,
Afraid weíve but one choice left, demise -
What? The snotty nob who gives no answers
And hardly says hello?
No thanks, her loss if night canít see
The days as a broken promise,
Silence as a yesterday outfit,
Count me out, my sweet Godiva
If the poor darling stands shaky, blue and tired -
Was it death the sky was cheating?
Well, just scraps of blue lies and papers,
Maybe the ghastly sap of your soul, maybe a miracle.





For Godís sake, donít you go all grins and chirps
ĎIsnít water nice, isnít she kindí
Look, see the wired cow growling F words?
Sheíll throw you down, yes, right off
Yes, you sort of rebel angel -
Well, so to say Ė
And no, itís no great fun so donít forget
To count blessings, lucky stars
Or how many times sex ebbs and flows
Like tide when lovers remind you of clouds
Creeping up on ambush -
Sodís law, God and mares gang up
And screw it all, births, life, whatever,
No hideouts, only the boundless oceans the skies
You wear day in day out, your blue, so sorry Ė
Any ease out? Waiting maybe, waiting
For an earth who saw the sun
Never afraid of riots and mayhems
Against plain limbs, plain souls,
Mothers, mares Ė
A bloody drag, I know, luckily
Cicadas are playing some greatest hits
As summer and her hitmen -
How many has she hired by the by? -
Need to chillax and we get
The frenzied rhythm of waterís memory Ė
Lost friends, dearest lovers,
A poor cow in search of nicked stares,
Thinking why the heat, why the blue, why  the moon:
Random questions, daft queries, Cassandra,
When no one ever asks you o morning,
Lunch  or missing nights.
Stop the glow, quick, get rid of rut,
The latest fad is rock, so letís wear blue lips,
Let ís walk blue fields, sister, while moon and stars
Twist at the frenzied rhythm Ė
But I need them, I do need them for pins and charms,
And no words, no dreams, no grins can lure them back -
my red, my blue, moonlighting in a wooden hut,
Moonshine, bourbon, yeah, that trashy stuff
And smooching teens in a nicked wreck nearby.

 

 

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