the smell of innocence
calls me, 
so soft, so tender, so pure,
first wine,
that subtle beauty, that flavour
so intense, that chaste taste,
the pleasant favour 
I want to be mine, 
only mine.

I´m not a monster,
but a man, filthy and vulgar,
I love the virginal cluster,
the naive juice from the abused,
the cloister ignorance
of the little ones.

This moment, 
our precious secret,
tell no-one, tell no-one...
Incense me
with your innocent perfume,
make my senses wild, 
my fragrant child.

Don't cry, don't bleed,
can't you see
how much I like your perfection,
your sweet candor?
Cool my ardor and shame
while being adored,
my pretty goddess.
Clean me, purify me, 
save me from this madness,
from this burning flame.
I don't mean to hurt you, babe.

Look at this slave of love
inhaling your cedar breath; 
oh...this amber flow, this sage visage, 
this balsam touch, these coiled oils
your tiny body exhales;
this rich scent, this floral aroma,
- jasmine, rose, sandal -
of your sweat,
oh!, such a blessing, healing age!

The ember,
the member,
you will ever remember me,
my girl...

✍Quote of the day
To be resign'd when ills betide, 
Patient when favours are denied, 
And pleased with favours given; 
Dear Chloe, 
this is wisdom's part, 
This is that incense of the heart 
Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
(Nathaniel Cotton)


A game

a game where the winner 
is always the same.
No draw.

Dare you play?

Cards with no aces,
dice with no faces.
A crazy roulette, 
a limbless athlette.
The round square,
the poor millionaire.

White fighting black,
the friendly attack. 
Black fighting white,
the horseless knight.
An atheist bishop,
a happy mishap.

a game where the player
can achieve his aim.

There you play!

✍Quote of the day
"Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor."
(Sholom Aleichem)


Ta ta ta talk

Giggle bubbles
Booger bubbles
Jingle bells
Jungle riddles
Monkey chatters 
Man clatters 
Mom mutters 

Me Jane, you Tarzan.
Cheetah, Cheetah,
shut up if you can


Jibbery joo
Silly speech
Spinach or Spanish?
Popey, poo-poo!
Oh! Funny shit!
Genuine gibberish, wow,
have a go!

Sticking out its tiny tongue
gentle razzies hit my ears,
my baby parrot, 
my pretty rugrat,
my happy tod
hears me and blabs, prattles,
drawls, yaks and utters
its first spontaneous noise,
I adore my poppet's voice

Let's pucker up our lips 
Let's play this silly game
Let's enjoy these little tips
Giggle on with your angel
Match those sounds,
the joyful babels it makes,
join the most complex monologue
in drooly fun,
hopeless find in Google logs
this baby talk and then...
motherese, parentese,
ever the more, nevertheless

Babble, babble 
in your cradle,
no control at all
Wants its binkie,
the bow-wow,
the choo-choo

mama, dada,

Yikes! Pardon me,
what did you say?

Idiot idiolects...?
Nonsense...? Nooo!
Just holy baby-talk,
the sweetest lang I know.

Fis, soosies
Uppie, uppie!
Son sing-song

cookie, cookie
uh niky, uh tiki
widdle wuv

Nice journey of girneys
oh, my God!

Crib talk and talk,
babes make me smile big, 
laugh out loud,
dic words soon to be

What a coo!
What a squeal!
What a boo!
What a squeak!
What a yell!
What a growl!
(What the hell did he say?)

spitting bubbles 
growing to irrational spell,
well, well, well,
no consistency at all
listen to this yell,
Woooo!!!, Ahhhhh!!!
great lungs, tenor pitch,

And now here comes 
the feared word
Baby asked "Why?"

Time for mom to play dumb
with a clever peek-a-boo

✍Quote of the day
“English isn’t my first language—gibberish is.” 
(Jarod Kintz, "This Book Has No Title")



Inspired by "Each moment", painted by Simon Kenny

On the threshold of life or death,
unconsciously trespassing God's gate
through the great ethereal cosmos,
an invisible lay dove finds its way
among douce pastel colours.

Diving sound into blooming clouds
time fairly elapses along glorious hues
rising blues of the divine palette.

Brightest shine of the whitest light
welcomes its last flight in wonder
while futile wings surrender to blaze.

Motionless limbs at that limbo vision,
blood beats cease under the marble skin, 
in God's gaze, lost in quiet contemplation.

Can't feel my flesh any more, so is grace.
For facing the unveiled face of him
in front  of this abstract canvas,
I, in awe, can breath, can smell eternity.

✍Quote of the day
“To abstract is to draw out the essence of a matter. To abstract in art is to separate certain fundamentals from irrelevant material which surrounds them.” 
(Ben Shahn)


Garth Newel

I know a place
Arabian horses pace still
in which Art shines by peacefully
among singing violins
and oiled nudity.

I know the grace
the rich palette secretly grows 
and those brush strokes 
pristine pleasure softly brings

in echoing chambers.

✍Quote of the day
“Painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight.”
(Orhan Pamuk, "My Name is Red")