giovedì 23 agosto 2012

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.

giovedì 2 agosto 2012

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?