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TuttArte MECENATE |
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POESIA MECENATE |
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ELISABETH VENEZIANO
Direttore Turistico Mecenate
FORM Pinned down, Thwarted into matter, But the mind is whole, With no defined split. I decline to be, In your perfect, patriarchal pit. It's me! Forging a form, Seeking, declining identity.
THE ABSURD Weird nonsense, Chaotic content: Existing like Fragments of resonance Refracting angles of oblique complexity, That only wisdom knows, In her reflection it remains concave-convex. A puzzle,, Refining rays of reason, Into fusion.
STUCK Moving towards static, Falling back, Stuck in a stack. A mind obstacle, Providing a mechanical defence. Examine the outer body, Outline a plan, Analyse the inner workings, Of this confounded sham. A structured space; Outer casing, In matted meshes, Over lapping tightened grooves, Encasing gears, Ready for mind manoeuvres, Like sharp shears embracing.
ESCAPISM Run , hide, Anything but the truth. These muddy boots like proof are consistently whole. Solitude, isolation and penetration. Run, hide. Bleak beauty incarcerated, Gas chambers and mortification, Another drug induced generation. Run, hide. Death by choice, A blocked nerve unvoiced. Scars, wounds and tattoos, The body untuned. Summon the mind-co-ordinator, Another spirit level. Run, hide, Cancer and devil One more foreign meddle. The pervert in the cell, Sexually molested, Selective justice guides his private hell. Run, hide, But do not tell.
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