freaky advisers leading you straight...
What shall we say? Resign and give up in pathetical dismay?
My friend, be comforted. Your love is never lost
and never wasted, never can it be expressed in vain,
and if you lose a girl or all the girls of this frustrating world,
then you can find, some wise guys say, another kind of girl
and sweetheart, lover, partner and whatever, in yourself.
– Now, what freaky kind of comfort is that miserable bullshit?
– Sorry, I just tell you what they have been telling me,
the experts, those who never love except to lose their love,
who have seen all the tragedies and managed to survive them
and themselves, their love and their repetitive perdition –
there is always a way out, they say, and if you cannnot find it,
just go back into yourself and find your other self within yourself,
in brief, turn schizophrenic, like so many do successfully.
And so they freak out, the advisers, the psychologists,
the head-shrinkers, support teams, pimps and gigolos
and you just scrap them all as good for nothing.
And having given up completely, getting ready for the exit,
a dramatic most spectacular demonstrative resounding bloodily impressing suicide,
you will find a friend right there just waiting for you,
and you ask him with surprise: "Where have you been?"
He answers (or if it is she): "Well, I just happened to be here."
Nothing ever fails to turn up when you least expect it,
and you simply will continue be surprised
as long as you give life a chance.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 918 times
Written on 2006-09-13 at 10:13
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198. Labyrinths of love
What shall we say? Resign and give up in pathetical dismay?
My friend, be comforted. Your love is never lost
and never wasted, never can it be expressed in vain,
and if you lose a girl or all the girls of this frustrating world,
then you can find, some wise guys say, another kind of girl
and sweetheart, lover, partner and whatever, in yourself.
– Now, what freaky kind of comfort is that miserable bullshit?
– Sorry, I just tell you what they have been telling me,
the experts, those who never love except to lose their love,
who have seen all the tragedies and managed to survive them
and themselves, their love and their repetitive perdition –
there is always a way out, they say, and if you cannnot find it,
just go back into yourself and find your other self within yourself,
in brief, turn schizophrenic, like so many do successfully.
And so they freak out, the advisers, the psychologists,
the head-shrinkers, support teams, pimps and gigolos
and you just scrap them all as good for nothing.
And having given up completely, getting ready for the exit,
a dramatic most spectacular demonstrative resounding bloodily impressing suicide,
you will find a friend right there just waiting for you,
and you ask him with surprise: "Where have you been?"
He answers (or if it is she): "Well, I just happened to be here."
Nothing ever fails to turn up when you least expect it,
and you simply will continue be surprised
as long as you give life a chance.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 918 times
Written on 2006-09-13 at 10:13
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
