survival

all those poems that I wrote for you
they didn't get their wings yet
but still 
they remain
hopeful
  
and so they are
building castles
out of
misery

and they wander
through the corridors
of mystified
desires

and they seek
another night
behind
the curtain
tree

to survive
just
to survive
this
longing

and
they do






© Tom Del Braco

(photo by Anna Morini)

stain

since last time
I haven't felt so bad.
it used to be worse but every time I would pretend
that I'm all right.
and I would be all right
although it would all reflect badly on me
that I would even conclude
how I am really
dissatisfied with anything.
I was conscious, if I have to mention,
when forced by the circumstances I recalled
all the traumas during the sunny days
and rainy nights,
while others were hopping barefoot
around girls
inviting them to a drink or a dance
and at the same time revealing their hidden capital,
or at night again
casually worked on their pray.
I was not made for such
environmental trends.
everyone in life
has its ups and downs, in short,
their own pace
and me - I feel like I slipped into the abyss
at the bottom of which I expect to find a
springboard at least, like a formality
for hope.
but even if it is there and if I do manage to bounce back
I probably won't end up any further than the wall
that is all around me.
what comforts me is the feeling that
on that wall I will probably remain only as a stain
that will be remembered;
but not by the wisdom that would get all the attention
but the one that is not supposed to be washed,
erased.






© Tom Del Braco

(photo by Martin Stranka)

sensation in the crack of light

here it is
as the last setting
left at the bottom of the underworld

stimulating
in the native type
of undone core

simple
as the analysis
from the sidelines

nervously trapped
in fingers

tap
tap
tap

I hear
the written word
as a miserable drop hitting
the forehead

conversely
proportional
it strains

and alas!
the longing flounders harder
in veins!

 




© Tom Del Braco

you are life
but you aren't aware of it yet.
you are my life.
I used to lie about it
when you asked me how much you mean to me
and I'd be disgustingly rude because I would change the topic of conversation
onto some non-essential things.
and you weren't persistent. you were wrong, you know ...
persistence would drove the truth out of me:
you are my life.
for a man to truly believe in love
he must firstly cure the bitterness within himself.
I'm not saying that I am ready
but certainly I understand more about it.
maybe we should meet again for the first time.
maybe we should get drunk again
to fool your suitors that we are together
so they would stop bothering you.
and we were good at it. so good
that even we started to believe.
how did we let that happen? well I guess you know:
despite the fact that we like to push people
away
you and I still don't know how to be alone.










© Tom Del Braco

rain

the sky is
gloomy
today 
with my
thoughts

a cheerful
heart
is covered
with
the heavy
cloud

and the
eyes
do not
shine
now

in a broad
daylight
their darkness
is
loud

rain
drizzles
as a
punishment

for the soul
in a
smouldering
feeling of
love

really

why love
isn't
transient

like a
raindrop
falling

from above?






© Tom Del Braco

time within time without us

I tell myself
keep your head up
birds fly
because it's their destiny
and you don't have to
If you don't want to

still I was invited once
and I was trying
but I
don't belong there

and I don't know whether I will
try again

all the essential things
you can't whisper to
the left ear
that plays a blind eye

or to the right ear
that does not want
to hear

all the essential things
can't be understood
if for some they're
irrelevant

at that moment
redundant and
incomprehensible

all the important things
take time
and there's no time

nobody has time

time is in cahoots
with the bad guys
although
in the end
it belongs only
to the free birds

while we remain
grounded
and built in with
bricks

in a timeless world
busy and
isolated

we walk nervously
on the thin
wires
lost within ourselves

and we can't find the way

out






© Tom Del Braco

a fair game

some people know how to make others believe

some people know how to make others believe
and that's why they are
dangerous

sometimes they're hard
to spot at first but
mostly always
the signs are undeniable once
they uncover themselves

you can call them
what you want but mostly
they're known as
ass kissers or
butt lickers
and they can be anywhere

in your classroom
at your work
name it

disguised as someone
you can trust, someone
with the mask of
confidence and

that's the irony

some people know how to make others believe

that's why they're dangerous

once they gain your trust
they'll crawl under your skin

power trip is a damned thing
in the hands of the weak minded
and you won't know it until
you find their knife stabbed in
your back

but be rest assured
karma always
and I mean
always
finds the way

to get
even the most
experienced ones

yes, sometimes
I do hope
life can surprise us
with a fair game

to even things up









©Tom Del Braco

lost in a day

sunny
autumn
afternoon

in that

distant

incomplete time

situated between the
truth
depressive thoughts
and nothing.

I can't move
neither left
nor
right

neither back
nor

forward

so I wait
for someone's
touch
of
understanding,
at least

an occasional
sign
of goodness

to be gifted
with
strength
to jump over the
snakes

with a simple
strategy

that
small dose
of

Poetry.







© Tom Del Braco

tensions

tensions
they move
around us

and then
they ridicule
our existence

to the borderline
of drabness

set on
blood
frequency
they haunt us
above our heads

in that third
dimension of
collective madness

tensions
with a flash of thunder
like a
game of charades

they create too much
out of
nothing

as a
passing fad
of manipulation

as a
phantom reaction
to the system of

democracy.








© Tom Del Braco

unclear decision

a few more times I will circle
around this deadlock
for which I am always at the same place
and if not for my persistence
that endured it all
I would have given up a long time ago.
I stand where I am.
at least I'm here, somewhere.
better than nowhere.
the strong will to find the
suitable place to which we aspire
is inversely proportional to a logical decision
to quit.
it proves that I'm only
a simple deficiency arising
from this simple question:
can I find the the way out or maybe
an answer that will not coincide
with my earlier needs?
this curiosity is bothering me
so I nervously transfer the body weight
from one foot to another,
looking for suitable angle from the light on a ceiling
so that my shadow will disappear completely
from the perspective of
my view.
I like to stand on my own shadow when I can't see it
because that's the only time when I totally lose the feeling
of imbalance.
but even the smallest movement of the body
to the right or the left
changes everything.
the immensely attractive power of standing
on top of my own shadow
can not include any of my desires
but they're just pushed into the
minor database that finely coordinated idea
didn't want to accept.
but if I turn my attention
to that thought
I would discover a demonstrative
young consciousness--
sharp and dangerous
as parts of a broken mirror,
parts that do not provide complete reflection of ideas
unless they're put back together as a mosaic,
with care of course
that I don't cut myself.
consequence of that could be a gash so deep
that will not heal without a
gentle attention.
but my shadow is not maladaptive
to all events that precede
while I'm standing on it.
it will wait patiently
until I get tired of this fragile domination
so it can carefully choose the shortest moment
of my weakness
to escape behind my back,
or in front of me ... it doesn't matter.
the point I'm trying to make is my obvious disorientation in a situation
for which I believe I'm in complete control
not knowing that the shadow is actually
PLAYING with ME.
as a result I'll circle a few more times
around the same point
searching for the meaning of this understatement.

totally unclear decision.











© Tom Del Braco

the show

it's good,
our thoughts remained fresh, 
untouched after all.
the prognosis was poor
and we almost got soaked by rain
in this theatre 
of judgements.
situation caught us off guard
and we were desperately hoping
for the end of that scene.
real actors, they have found the way out
leaving us alone in the lurch,
only in our underwear
to deal with an aggressive audience.
review WAS bad, and we-
we DIDN'T listen.
well,
maybe it will make us stronger.
if we have to make mistakes
before everyone
better to do it with our own TRUTH
than someone else's lies.
it's difficult, you know.
it's difficult to defeat the juggernaut.
but if we really have to
crash and burn
we should do it as victims
of our own destiny
rather than the puppets
of other people's vanity.











© Tom Del Braco