Monday, November 23, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
"Il Re, Usciva Ogni Giorno" by David Hart
Il Re, Usciva ogni giorno.
Ama piu dare che ricevere
Lo capisco
Certi lo stimano molto.
L'ammiro e lo lodo.
Mio caro amico, ascolta!
La gratitudine e rara.
Non abbiano che un viaggio. Aver fretta? Aver ragione?
Aver torto?
Ama piu dare che ricevere
Lo capisco
Certi lo stimano molto.
L'ammiro e lo lodo.
Mio caro amico, ascolta!
La gratitudine e rara.
Non abbiano che un viaggio. Aver fretta? Aver ragione?
Aver torto?
"Rip Van Winkle's Crimson Tears" by David Hart
Rip Van Winkle's crystal crimson tears
Shatter as sea gulls flit and cheer
A child's toy building doth tumble and crash
While a moon sky casts a rumbling flash
Rene Descartes ponders in an iron stove
Mining his mind for the treasure trove
Siggy Freud dreams of tunnels and holes
Riding a big cigar scrapping other's souls
Majesterial Mercury preens his taleria in bliss
Musing and fretting, his thoughts quite amiss
Rip Van Winkle's blood red years
Fail to quell the fanfaronade of tears
Rumplestilskin rows in a blue yellow kayak
Up to the sun in a fervid fulgurant attack
From the fear filled misery of a military trench
To the quiet muted cries of a hard park bench
Not much ado for a hero these days
The hero's in a cardboard box which forever sighs
Longing for just one empathetic caress
Now worn down with a soul full of duress
Rip Van Winkle's sanguine sorrowful tears
Yield scant surcease to a deluge of fears
2008DavidHartUSA
Shatter as sea gulls flit and cheer
A child's toy building doth tumble and crash
While a moon sky casts a rumbling flash
Rene Descartes ponders in an iron stove
Mining his mind for the treasure trove
Siggy Freud dreams of tunnels and holes
Riding a big cigar scrapping other's souls
Majesterial Mercury preens his taleria in bliss
Musing and fretting, his thoughts quite amiss
Rip Van Winkle's blood red years
Fail to quell the fanfaronade of tears
Rumplestilskin rows in a blue yellow kayak
Up to the sun in a fervid fulgurant attack
From the fear filled misery of a military trench
To the quiet muted cries of a hard park bench
Not much ado for a hero these days
The hero's in a cardboard box which forever sighs
Longing for just one empathetic caress
Now worn down with a soul full of duress
Rip Van Winkle's sanguine sorrowful tears
Yield scant surcease to a deluge of fears
2008DavidHartUSA
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
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