Massimiliano Badiali





I have cultivated on the windowsill flowering brooms

And in trickles of solitude opaque flowers

But in my obscure attic

A terrible obsession’s void

inside of me rumbles:

It has the Hell voice

At the top of desperation:

Why a vocation

Had not I like a supernatural gift?

Why in the rosary of days 

I am closed in a temptation circle

And damned to the limbo

Suspended between the human corporeal

And the divine yearning? 


From this existential anguish

Liberate me, Celestial Immortal Mother,

That my actions laid and lays

On an argil pedestal 

And from the mortal illness

That the dreams’ lamp crushed a day.  


And today corals’ deliriums

Of maternal caresses

I often dream

And light blue blood

Among drunken of moon 





For demure corners

I have dreamt

Falls of white thoughts

In the world’s apartment.


Between silences’ garlands

On my stomach

I have black straw fragments


I have painted

The divinity

Among the shackles 

Of my only hopes

In my heart blackboard.


Vacillating orphan of love

I feel eternity’s deliriums

And sincere mystical thoughts

And dreams.


I have picked moon dust

On the shore of aim

In existence’s foams.









Irony essences

In the mocking script

Of existence!


Irascible and rebel

I have played dice

A vain bet

With the Destiny!


A irrefragable laugh

Has dreadfully fallen

In voids of frontiers


In abyss graves

of circular signs.



Broken is the last edge

Of my obscene flesh

In a alcove of studs

In a silent of solitude







And evanescent the taste

Of your sweet far lips meanders….

Behind naivety spray of acid lies

And assonances of vain nostalgias

 Too many soft sheet’s wefts

Farewell, insane fire’s dances

To the heart’s romances

Liquefied by arcane sorrows.

River drunken of love

Hide the farthest things

Between eloquent silences of pain

And wakes of bitter tears

The pride has torn the love

Frail being dry-minded

No host in heart mouth

For that Our

Grown in diaphanous sands.