Hunger Strike

WARNING: THIS POST IS TOTALLY MEANINGLESS TO MOST PEOPLE. THESE ARE JUST MY MORNING THOUGHTS. IT'S BADLY WRITTEN, LEADS TO NO POINT, AND SO ON.
Well, after all this is my blog and I write what I want ^^.
Call the asylum ^^.

What's the purpose of being rich, I wonder?

I mean, apart from the obvious. And the unnecessary.
Why am I thinking so? 'Cause I feel weird. I feel weird 'cause my needs are so small compared to those of most people. I mean, most people dream of fancy cars, enormous houses, expensive restaurants and so on.
I only have two "macrodreams": having time; and sharing my wealth. And this sounds really weird.

I don't understand being selfish, really. I mean, self preservation is ok, but the amount of selfishness commonly displayed by people is really... embarassing? Disgusting? Unbelievable?
I still don't understand why one should drive an incredibly uncomfortable ultrasportscar when for one tenth of the price they can use taxis for all their life, for example, or buy a comfy car, which costs MUCH less (not to mention if you buy it from the display of the shop, they are usually discounted). I don't understand buying enormous 30-room villas: isn't a 10-room enough?!? I am NOT saying that this is necessarily wrong, I'm just saying that I don't understand it. And most of all, apart from these two examples, I don't understand how ultrarich people can't feel ashamed. I can't imagine how bad I'd feel thinking that while I swim in my money like Scrooge, other people are struggling to get to the end of the month. Of course, many people will say that it's only their fault - I don't believe so. Sometimes it is, sometimes they just had bad luck and met the wrong people who ultimately boycotted them, or whatever. Still, I can't stand that a normal job does NOT allow to live a normal life.
And where has humanity gone? How is it possible that so few people feel the joy of sharing? The sheer happiness in knowing that you've made someone else's life less difficult? How can I drive a Ferrari when one of my friends is struggling to pay 3000 euros for her University? And another one has lost his job because the owner of the walls of his shop decided to DOUBLE the rent?!? How can I?
I can't understand being selfish. I mean, we're potential worm-food, and we surely won't bring our goods to our tomb.
Now, I don't even want to think to try to sound like I'm right and the world is wrong. I don't know. I just know that if I won even "just" five million euros at a lottery, ok, I'd keep one for myself, and it would be probably enough to live more than comfy 'till the end of my days. Yet my greatest wish would be to use the rest to make life easier for those I love - I don't know, let's say a house for my dad, one for my aunts, and many other things.

And from there I'd start to show others the joy in sharing. And maybe in the long run I'd save the world xD

I utterly think that one of the reasons why people became so selfish is Calvinism (your predestination is predicted by your success on Earth). This thought leads to seek for material wealth (and, being a christian branch, I wonder WHERE has Jesus said to become wealtjy), also because no one has questioned the fact that there are other kinds of wealth: I'd rather know that I'm "saving" others, that I'm making their lives better. Being overrich is easy, compared to the ability to use your wealth to help others in the proper way.
Maybe it's not only chance that in the USA, founded by calvinists, we have the richest and most merciless corporations in the world, that kill thousands of people each year by polluting their land and food, in the name of Wealth, that, for calvinist zealots, is the name of God.
Oh well, just to resume

"Hunger Strike", by Temple of the Dog
I don't mind stealing bread
From the mouths of decadence
But I can't feed on the powerless
When my cup's already overfilled, 
But it's on the table
The fire is cooking
And they're farming babies
While slaves are working
Blood is on the table
And the mouths are choking
But I'm going hungry

Thanks for reading.

Sharing

Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg are only copycats (I won't say thieves until a tribunal has stated so, but that's my thought). There are many like them.

I won't copy. I could have done it, but it's too degradating for my own intellect.

So today, my dear five readers, I present you with a poem that astonished me for its raw beauty.

The author is Rochelle Marie Watkins (http://rochellesmarie.wordpress.com/).

Rochelle, I have always thought that your brain is remarkably intelligent, and I hope that sharing your poem is enough a token of admiration and appreciation.
Thank you from writing this, and for granting me the permission to publish it on my humble page.

I am, you are (by Rochelle Marie Watkins)

I am the walls of your room

Protecting you from the street

And from the petty greed of your neughbors.

I am the windows, bringing in the light

I am the warmth of your covers

Sheltering you for the night from the icy air

And leading you to an unconscious garden of curious images, abstract postulations, 

Fantastic devices and radical situations that do not exist in the concrete world.

I am the waking kiss

I am your shoes

Taking you wherever you wish you go

And staying with you when you end up

Someplace foreign, or somewhere

You did not plan.

When you march with confidence, I am there.

When you ramble,

I am there

I am the refreshing water you drink

I am the tasty disches you eat

I am the cat who nuzzles your face

And the dog who dances when you come home

I am the sunny day

Warming you as you nap in soft grasses

I am the hot shower

That massages your shoulders

I am the stranger who smiles at you on the bus

And I am the soft chair after a draining day

I am the love that surrounds the space around you

When you are lonely

And I am the hand that holds yours when you most ned it

I am the air that you breath at the tops of mountains

And I am the yellow flowers that grow in valleys

And on the banks of streams.

I am the green of trees in Winter

And I am the sound of rain falling on your roof

I am the lines that form on your face after years of laughing

I am the burst of citrys when you open an orange

I am the roots that distort the neatly built sidewalks

And I am the arms that catch you when you stumble.

I am your most comfortable sweater

I am your favourite pen

I am the handsome boy you glance at through a cafe window

And I am the cute girl who works behind the register

I am the soft darkness when the world is too intense

And I am the morning bird song after a restless night

I am the conversation till seven a.m.

And I am the hug between closest friends,

I am the quiet room after too much noise

And I am the knock on the door after too much silence

I am the creak of wood floors as you walk down your hall

And I am the steam of hot tea

Rising out of your cup,

Warming your face.

Who are you?

I really don't know whether being how I am is good or not.
I grew up convinced that being always sincere, direct (which doesn't mean disrespectful), open hearted, plain and simple is good.
It seems there's something wrong, though.
If I think about all the times I've been downright straightforward, I can't find a single occasion when this has brought me anything good at all.
It seems like people like lies, innuendo, half truths (if any truth at all). But why? Is it fear? Is it so shocking to find someone who doesn't feel like hiding his thoughts, his feelings, or his inner self? Is being honest so despised by everyone?
Why do people always think you mean some kind of harm when you speak frankly? Why do feelings scare so much? I mean, I know there's a lot of pain at stake, but still...

Should I be afraid of myself? But I'm harmless, I am a decent Man, so why should I be afraid of myself or other people's reactions? Why can't I be myself, or why do I have to be blamed for things that are commonly referred to as "qualities"?

I tried to learn to be, as they say, "diplomatic". But I've found this diplomacy to be only a nice name for "lies".
If I hate you, why shouldn't I say so? If I don't trust you, why should I pretend while watching my back? If I have a crush on you, why shouldn't I express it? It wasn't impolite to tell someone that I didn't want him with me on a trip because he misbehaved by almost breaking my camera, it was simply honest.  And I could find 10.000 other examples.

Believe me, everyone, I wish I were able to deceive, to pretend, to play a part and breach everyone's heart. Everyone likes to be loved or admired or simply liked, I think. But if I pretend, if I wear a mask, is it me they like/love/admire, or someone else? Isn't it, in the end, as if people would like someone else, instead of me?

I'm very displeased and sorry if my actions or words have offended or scared or embarassed anyone. Yet I think I haven't done anyrhing wrong, if being honest is still no crime.
Still, people, if you like pretenders... That's not me. And I'd add: who is more "dangerous"? Me or a pretender?

Incomplete Thought

(to be reviewed)

Shattered and reduced
To stupid things
I can only sit and sing
Tryin' to ease the loneliness
While
Covered all in autumn clouds
The sky looks grey...
Still more coloured than my soul
While I wait the day to slowly fade

Love and pain
Sometimes they just feel the same
Look at me, I feel insane
I cry without feeling shame
Love and pain
Whispering in the dark your name
In my heart, both night and day,
Since the moment you went away

Walking all alone
I look around
wondering why when love I've found
She had to go away so fast
And
What she's left is nothing
But her smell
And her smile, so vivid in my eyes,
Fading day by day and I

Struggle with myself not to kneel
And curse the sky
For what I feel
Deep inside
Suicide
My, oh, my,
This ain't right
I can't fight
So, then why,
Lord, have you allowed me
to touch the sky?

Love and pain
Sometimes they just feel the same
Look at me, I feel insane
I cry without feeling shame
Love and pain
Whispering in the dark your name
In my heart, both night and day,
Since the moment you went away

Forever Gone

Survived, not right
To this big empty you've left
Of what was us, now there is nothing left

I can't go on
(I) try to clean this empty room, but
I can't remove the handkerchief you've left

There's still your CD
in the player
The pillow's still got your shape and your smell

Here I can't stay
I'm going insane
I run outside and hope for some fresh air

And as a gust of wind blows
Shivers down my spine
Tell me oh, too softly,
Something I don't wanna know

Flowers roasting quietly
Indifferent as I cry
They wouldn't know the pain I feel
A-knowing that you're forever gone
Forever gone


Lonely is the street, the crickets sing
Burnin in the sun
Every little step I take is

heavy like a stone
Leaves will start to fall
And way before I'll know it
You'll be a star shining in someone else's world

And as a gust of wind blows
Shivers down my spine
Tell me oh, too softly,
Something I don't wanna know

My skin is burning quietly
While people passing by
Wouldn't know the pain I feel
A-knowing that you're forever gone
Forever gone

(Copyright 2012, ALL rights reserved)

Bus stop goodbye

I watch her walkin' up those stairs
and she looks just a little smaller
There's a pain growing in my chest
And my voice is too faint to call her

I can't help but to stay with her
While my world shrinks to little pieces
There's nothing else I desire
but to hold her a little longer

Left in frustration, I feel in a freak show
With these tears I cannot hide
Such goodbyes shouldn't ever take place in
Anyone's life

Now I'm here sitting all alone
All that's left are her smell
And some words written on a book
Only oasis in this desert

What will be I can't really know
And my hopes are all getting smaller
But I won't give it up like this
We can be so much more than memory

I'll follow the mirage, live through tomorrow
There is nothing I should hide
Just like the Phonenix, from the ashes of sorrow
I will rise

Hear now my screaming, feel now my feeling
In a wasteland now I thrive
I wish you could be here, and just like the Phoenix
We could fly

We belong together
We belong together

Hear now my screaming, feel now my feeling
In a wasteland now I thrive
I wish you could be here, and just like the Phoenix
We could fly

We belong together

Woman Behind Lips

Where are you, little one?
Don't forget me
Nor the damage you've done
Take my hands, my dear friends
Don't let me drown...

All this joy that I fake
Don't believe me
All inside I shake
I hold the tears, hide my fears
I try to keep them inside

I don't want your smile
If there's only pity without love
I don't want your hugs
If they have to be so cold
I don't want your melody
I don't want your tears

I don't want your kiss
If there's no you behind them.

Wave goodbye, homicide
is what you're committing
Say your prayers, it won't be me
to make you pay for your sins
Your own life will clean
All the mess you've left behind

Don't come back if you're not
Ready for my love,
Ready to share this feeling
Here's the man you've destroyed,
Whom you've taken everything


I don't want your smile
If there's only pity without love
I don't want your hugs
If they have to be so cold
I don't want your melody
I don't want your tears

I don't want your kiss
If there's no you behind them.


'Till then I'll keep this pain of mine
waiting uselessly for a new sunshine.

Jailhouse Rock

Well, my dear five (might I dare to say six?) readers... It seems that studying is not for naught, after all.
I've never felt so open minded and alert, so open, so ready to increase my knowledge, my insight and myself.

There is one thought obsessing me recently. After two months preparing for my Criminology exam, after melding my studies with my own experience, I am really starting to change my mind about many things.
For instance: prisons are useless, most of the times, and anyway it represents, from my point of view, a State's tender surrender. It's another example of the State's failure. The State gives up on taking care of the causes of crime (which is the illness), and takes care of the sympthoms only.
It's very easy not to care about the population living in your country and jail them if they commit a crime. It just takes some spending money to upkeep some police, a couple of putrid holes in an old building, two or three anti-tetanus shots in the infirmary, a couple of psychologists, and that's it.
Only to blame about crime afterwards. Not the huge, multi-millionaire white collar crime, which most of the times ends up representing the States themselves, but the small, desperate (most of the times) crimes committed by people whom I start to consider victims of these same States.
Research has shown that the true cause of crime is the excessive difference between richness and poorness in a country. Meaning: if everyone is poor, no one will get too angry. Ifeveryone is rich, no one will get too angry. And in these cases the crime rate will be limited. BUT when there are poor people, maybe ghetto-ized,  forced to take the most humble jobs in order to barely survive, who practically have no access to education thanks to the privatization of most schools (this example fits the USA very well), and when these same people watch TV and see nothing but wealth, nice cars, easy life, parties, money everywhere, and when these people ask themselves: "why am I not given the same possibilities?"; and when these people get rejected by a stupid culture which associates being poor with being a criminal (thus encaging the other in a self-fulfilling prophecy) without having done ANYTHING to deserve such treatment; and when they'll see stupid wealthy spoiled kids get nothing but undue privileges, maybe at their own expense: what do you think these people will do? Won't they perceive everything as a whole bunch of crap? Should they believe in any kind of justice? How?
And what do modern States do? Nothing. Only a bunch of illuminated Governments are actually trying to cure the cause and not thesympthom. Why? Is it so difficult? Well of course it is. It takes a whole lot of money, guts, and probably also BLOOD to do it (those who really tried to do something good, in the last 7000 years of human history, often lost their own lives - the Gracchi brothers come to my mind). But how can we hope to REALLY reduce crime if we don't shift our attention to the causes? Why do our States care not about redistributing education and possibilities? Also some wealth, but that's secondary! People are satisfied enough with possibilities! Why is no one fighting to open up POSSIBILITIES for everyone? Of course, it would be an all-around battle: it would mean cutting not wealth, but PRIVILEGES to most rich people; it would mean fighting the white collar crimes; it would mean forcing people to pay their taxes (HUGE issue here in Italy); it would mean fighting for YEARS to bring education and culture everywhere. And this is what a State should do: fight for ALL the people, not protect the usual uber-privileged. Genius could be everywhere, and we see every day the terrible effects of "recommendations", especially when you get surgery from an incompetent doctor. What would YOU prefer? To be in the hands of a recommended someone with nothing but a BIG surname, or of an unknown genius of the scalpel?
Of course, crime has no panacea. We'll always need prisons, unfortunately, and we'll never be 100% safe, andthe world will never be 100% just, and so on. I just think, as I've stated, that the way most states, USA mainly, are dealing with this issue, is biased, willing or nilling.
I somehow think it's willing. And, to say it all, I consider "visible" crime as nothing more than another white collar crime.
Am I right? Am I wrong? Both could be, and I'm open to discuss the issue.
If I'm wrong, I'll have learned something.

Wonderful Tonight

It's been almost seven months, now. I have acheived much during this time, and want to do more.
I have to admit I'm quite overtired, so tired that I'm almost unable to do anything. Basically I rely on my force of will and little more. Being single DOES have many advantages. Among the many: I don't have to explain anything to anyone; I can do what I want without regrets; I have time to study, sing, work, and many other things; I have freedom.
All of this doesn't come without a price, though: although I have to admit that being so free is pretty nice...

well, sometimes I really miss the warm touch of a girl's lips.

Exam session

Due to an exam session at UNI, I've got no time to write anything.
Will be back soon.
Thanks.

Dumb

I know it's stupid, but I can't stop thinking about her, I can't stop loving her.
I still can't believe it's all over, that I was brought to such a point as to say "that's it, farewell".
I still can't stop wishing one of the two: either that she stays out of my life, letting me heal, or that she comes to me mature enough and in love with me.

Before Tomorrow Comes

So the day has come and passed. We should have been sleeping together now. The day would have come, and we were supposed to travel to my place, to finally start our life together.
Alas, this is only a dream now.
I had it all figured out in such a way as to fulfill my duties and build up a nice life together, travelling, without any worries.
You felt differently, ok, but I can't stop thinking about that "I love you" you've told me.
You shouldn't have said those words. Those were the only words you shouldn't have said, IF you were not able to behave by those words. I was ready once again to give you my heart.


How sad.

Limelight

Alan Parsons Project - "Limelight"

I really don't know whether mine is a sort of raging, or desperation, or what else.
I don't know.
But I know I'm trying to channel all my feelings in one direction: making my life better, becoming a better person, in a better body with a better mind; with better intentions and more focus, aiming to be happy.

I feel devastated, raped in my inner feelings, yet I don't want to give up, and if this wasteland o' mine can be my fuel, so let it be.

I want to acheive some things, first of all saving my family.
I'll be under my father, mother and aunts' Limelight.
And I make a promise to myself: that never, ever again I'll accept to be with someone for whom I'm the second.
I want to be in my girl's Limelight.
Then I'll start trying to help other people live a better life.
I will be in Goodness' Limelight.

"Limelight shining on me, telling the world who I am!
Maybe the road's not easy, maybe the prize is small...
After all the years of waiting I'm gonna show them alll!"




Davvero non so se la mia è una sorta di rabbia, o disperazione.
Non lo so.
Ma so che sto cercando di incanalare i miei sentimenti in una direzione: rendere la mia vita migliore, diventare una persona migliore, con un corpo e una mente migliori; con migliori intenti e più concentrazione, puntando ad esser felice.

Mi sento devastato, stuprato nei miei intimi sentimenti, ciò nonostante non voglio arrendermi, e se questa terra bruciata dentro di me può essere il mio carburante, così sia.

Voglio realizzare alcuni obiettivi, primo fra tutti salvare la mia famiglia.
Sarò sotto i riflettori di mio padre, di mia madre e delle mie zie.
E mi sono promesso che mai, mai più acetterò di stare con qualcuna per cui sono in secondo piano.
Voglio essere sotto il riflettore della mia ragazza.
Poi comincerò a provare ad aiutare altre persone a vivere una vita migliore.
Sarò sotto il riflettore del Bene.

"Limelight shining on me, telling the world who I am!
Maybe the road's not easy, maybe the prize is small...
After all the years of waiting I'm gonna show them alll!"

The Pages of Your Love

Tiny, simple words,
Written dreamingly on invisible paper,
Sometimes carelessly, sometimes not.
When all is over,
It's all you've got:
By some you learn,
By some you die,
By some you wonder
Or you reach the sky.

Diary or memory,
You can't understand:
All in all, you're just a little man,
Wandering astray with forlorn eyes
When your anguish comes,
And your heart cries
Out loud for help
Or joy.

There comes a time
When you have to face
The flight of the Holy Dove.
When that time comes,
In good or bad,
This is all you have:
One by one
The pages of your love.

It's a Hard Life

My head is spinning, so much I'm thinking. The thoughts are many, the feeling always the same. Not four days have passed, and this feeling of being powerless and useless doesn't abandon me.
I don't know whether I'd want the phone to ring or not, I don't know how I'd react. Feelings of love and hatred, of relief and anguish, of power and weakness all coexist in my head, and all I can do is rely on friends to cheer me up and share some of my pain.
One thing is sure: I wasn't given the respect, the love, the warmth I deserve.
Inside me I know I'll get better, so Hope remains: hope for some happiness, hope that this suffering ends.
But still I watch my phone, and some part of me can't avoid to hope for a call.
I'ts very stupid, I know.
I deserve a lot. If not for my guts, at least for my kindness. I'm strong, and I'm not useless at all. I have tons of qualities.
I deserve to be loved.


Mi gira la testa, tanto sto pensando. I pensieri sono molti, il sentimento sempre lo stesso. Non sono passati nemmeno quattro giorni, e questa sensazione di impotenza e di inutilità non mi abbandona.
Non so se vorrei o meno che il telefono squillasse, non so come reagirei. Sensazioni di amore e odio, sollievo e angoscia, forza e debolezza coesistono tutti nella mia mente, e tutto quel che posso fare è affidarmi agli amici affinchè mi rallegrino e si prendano un po' del mio dolore.
Una cosa è sicura: non mi sono stati dati il rispetto, l'amore e il calore che merito.
Dentro di me so che starò meglio, quindi la Speranza rimane: speranza di un po' di felicità, speranza che questa sofferenza finisca.
Ma ancora guardo il telefono, e una qualche parte di me non può evitare di sperare in una chiamata.
E' molto stupido, lo so.
Io merito molto. Se non per le mie palle, almeno per la mia gentilezza. Sono forte, e non sono per niente inutile. Ho un sacco di qualità.
Mi merito di essere amato.

Tears Roll Down

Tears.
Roll.
Down.

Bitter Words

After so much talking, raging,
forgetting, forgiving,
forlorn eyes are staring
at an empty wall,
begging and crying,
while my lips are whispering
the only word left for me to say:


Why?

Saturday Night Fever

I wonder why I feel like posting at 2:00 am and after a beer.
Maybe it's the picture I'm looking at, maybe it's the simple fact that I'm quite relaxed, or maybe it's the slight sadness that keeps me company all the time.
It takes me a while in the evening to write something, mainly because when I get back from work I'm exhausted.
I've got some memories storming my head today, made worse by being neglected.
Actually I don't even know what to think now, I feel like in a limbo. This whole post is meaningless, I realize I'm just writing it for myself. Or am I feeling meaningless? Maybe, I don't know. But it's kind of peaceful in this limbo. Little worries, little care. I heal quietly, without disturbing anyone.
I think. A lot. Too much. I should think less. Memories storm my head, but not aggressively. Just quietly.
And, the more I think, the more I realize I'm not such a bad person.
There is something disturbing in being neglected, at least it helps me see things more clearly.
Clarity: I need it. Not to get angry.




)Mi chiedo perchè mi vien voglia di pubblicare sul blog alle due di notte dopo una birra.
Forse è la foto che sto guardando, forse è il semplice fatto che sono rilassato, o forse è la sottile tristezza che mi tiene compagnia continuamente.
Mi ci vuole un po' la sera per scriver qualcosa, principalmente perchè quando torno dal lavoro sono esausto.
Ho dei ricordi che impazzano nella mia testa stasera, resi peggiori dal venire ignorato.
A dire il vero non so nemmeno cosa pensare ora, mi sento come in un limbo. Tutto questo post è inutile. Mi rendo conto che sto scrivendo per me stesso. O sono io senza senso? Forse, non lo so. Ma questo limbo è abbastanza pacifico. Poche preoccupazioni, poco interesse. Guarisco silenziosamene, senza disturbare alcuno.
Penso. Tanto. Troppo. Dovrei pensar meno. I ricordi mi imperversano in testa, ma non aggressivamente. Solo silenziosamente. E più penso, più mi rendo conto che non sono così malaccio come persona.
C'è qualcosa di irritante nell'essere ignorati, almeno mi aiuta a vedere le cose più chiaramente.
Chiarezza. Mi serve. Per non adirarmi.)

Nutshell

Alice in Chains - Nutshell

How many times have I listened to this song? One hundred? Maybe more?
How could I have always neglected these words? How could I have not followed what are my own beliefs?
I've chased misspelled and misprinted lies, and faced the path of time, a long path of suffering.
I've fought this battle, but well, at least I wasn't alone! I have someone to cry to and somewhere to call home.
Yet I felt raped. Raped inside. With all due respect to the terrible act that, alas, is so often inflicted to women.
So why didn't I folllow the most awesome possible suggestion until some time ago?
I've wondered astray for so much time, looking for myself, for my true self. Pity such a blow was necessary for me to become the one I was once proud to be, and that I want to be again.
Now I'll try never to get out of my path again.
If I can't be my own, I'd feel better dead.



Quante volte ho ascoltato questa canzone? Cento? Forse più? Come ho potuto aver sempre ignorato queste parole? Perchè non ho seguito quelle che sono le mie stesse credenze?
Ho inseguito bugie dette e scritte male, e affrontato il cammino del tempo, un lungo cammino di sofferenza.
Ho combattuto questa battaglia, ma insomma, almeno non ero da solo. Ho qualcuno con cui piangere, e un posto da chiamar casa.
Nonostante ciò mi sento stuprato. Stuprato dentro. Con tutto il dovuto rispetto  all'atto terribile che, ahimè, è così spesso inflitto alle donne.
Ma allora perchè fino a poco tempo fa non ho seguito il miglior consiglio possibile? Ho vagato alla cieca per così tanto tempo, cercando me stesso, il vero me stesso. Peccato che sia stato necessario un colpo del genere per diventare quello che una volta ero fiero di essere, e che voglio essere ancora.
Ora cercherò di non lasciare mai più il mio cammino.
Se non potessi essere me stesso, preferirei morire.