Antonia Colamonico (biostorica)
Only the words of the heart are eternal, I scrolled through at all times and for all times, while the words of the mind is susceptible to aging and be stupid! For this POEM is eternal and not the science!! (I)
When tyranny and anarchy meet, form of democracy ... so this is poised between an order that tends to be rock and a disorder that calls for dynamic ... energy ... (I)
Power is power and tends to be rock! But the rocks are carved by water and we must be water ... invade, inundate all his plots with our awareness ... quiet and attentive to capture a crack to fill our diversity! (AC = I)
Poetry requires a large dialogue with the infinite. Being able to stay awake all night waiting for a syllable, a nuance of meaning, an echo of life, an interweaving of images, a face, an eye, a fire ... (I)
Without love there is less respect for ourselves ... we lack the courage ... We folded ourselves by partaking of our personality and destroying it bit by bit with our hands. With the love we are creative, we march tirelessly. With love and only love, we are able to sacrifice for others. (Dan George, chief)
Your eyes ... will be an empty word, a silent cry, a silence ... that day we too will know that you are life and nothingness. For every death has a look. (C: Pavese)
I do not know one that you lifted his eyes, feeling that God sent an angel on earth just for you, to save you from the depths of hell. (The genius rebel)
... s not 'proud and my heart is not haughty my eye, I'm not looking for great things ... are quiet and peaceful as a baby in his mother's arms. (Ps. 131)
Remove the right and let me dream, let me dream in peace. Free as we were yesterday by inches of books under your feet to pull the door handle and go out ... (Judgement)
Love me, and remember, take the old sling and beat me hair. You'll see me grow as black as the Amazon forest, but if you deviate from my branches you will see colorful birds in my language and earthly paradises. So do not pray to the Lord, because the wealth of my hand I have stolen from him in a day of distraction. Alda Merini
In the silence of the night, I chose you. In the splendor of the firmament ... In the enchantment of the dawn ... In most tormenting storms ... Nell'arsura drier, I chose you. For better or for worse, I chose you. In joy and sorrow ... In my heart of hearts, I have chosen you. (St. Lawrence)
There is a freedom that ultimately applies to all, but a lot of freedom for the many moments in life that is played in every second of this. There a democracy that is absolute, but many different degrees of democracy, freedom and democracy are measured continuously with the bonds of tyranny and hypocrisy. (From constellations of meanings for a topology of complex thought. Colamonico A)
Idealizing technical progress, or contemplating the utopia of humanity back to the original state of nature are two opposite ways to separate from the progress its moral evaluation, and therefore its responsibility. (CV)
Structured, close now, called Liberian. Help me! In my if I am lost and a sense of life no! Liberian listened silently silly conceited ... he believed to be the strongest! You wanted to command directing the flowers in here, the stars down, the marks up, the men in there. And then God? Space no longer exists! You wanted to order and do not know that someone has ordered you well. (From nursery rhymes ... I)
'll send you a kiss with the wind and I know you feel, you turn around without seeing me, but I'll be there. We are made of the same stuff of which dreams are made of ... (P. Neruda)
... Only an encounter with God can not "only ever see in each other," but to recognize in lui l'immagine divina, giungendo così a scoprire veramente l'altro e maturare un amore che diventa cura dell'altro e per l'altro (Caritas in Veritate...)
… con un po’ di malinconia, se ne stavano in dolce compagnia nella grossa nube blu. Un bel cuore li investì. Fatto solo di note: mi fa sol. Sol la si. Re do mi. Re mi fa sol la si. Fatto solo di colori: rosso verde giallo rosa. Celeste viola. Bianco.... Fatto solo di parole: lacrima goccia rugiada. Riflesso brivido. Soffio. Era il cuore dell’amore. (Le filastrocche di Spazioliberina, AC = io)
Morire sì, non essere aggrediti dalla morte. Morire persuasi che un siffatto viaggio is the best. And in that last moment to be happy as when you count the minutes of the clock and each station is worth a century. Then that death is the faithful wife who takes over treacherous lover, we do not receive it from intruders, or escape with her. (V Cardarelli)
"Whether you're brave as the sand of the sea does not fear the waves advance to cover it, you have the faith of those who fight to win, the hope of those who take this to building the future, the love of those ch ... and do not fear death, because love does not die but are reborn. " (Poetry of the Brazilian held his newborn daughter)
Nella camera degli specchi ho spezzato un mio pensiero e come cineasta innamorata ho filmato la ballata delle idee… Tra giri e giri le parole si accoppiavano e si sdoppiavano, aprendosi e chiudendosi, a intese sempre nuove. Fu così, che, tra un valzer e un folk-song, quel pensiero si quintuplicò. (Moltiplicazioni, in Il Filo. A. C. = io)
Voglio sbriciolare il mio amore. Frantumarlo in miriadi di attimi che si allontanano gli uni dagli altri. Troppo fragili sono i ritorni alla piena di andate. Voglio disperdere al vento il mio amore e darlo ai flutti, alle nubi, alla polvere. E toglierlo a te che annoiato sbadigli, mentre io ti parlo. (Prosa e poesia da Il filo. A.C.)
Spazioliberina, walking one morning, glimpsed from behind a door Structured Spaziostretto: all intersecting lines, all bearing walls, pillars, all rotating, all private rooms ... an idea ... the whales! To leave in one go, if its structured Spaziostretto. A fairy helped her, sent her a song, a voice intonation, light framing ... (from The Story of a flight in the nursery rhymes ... AC)
tonight but it was the mask fall. It was so wanted to be naked with her face ... My face, whether the bearer of pain, but also from time to smile ... (By C. Ramondino masks).
If all you hear screams, whispers, if only people around, but if you're silent, you hear only one who loves you. (Mahatma Gandhi).
Progress has become a sort of "musical chairs" without end and without rest, in which a moment of distraction results in irreversible loss and exclusion irrevocable. Instead of high expectations with dreams of gold, the "progress" evokes insomnia filled with nightmares of being "left behind", losing i. .. the train, or fall from the window of a vehicle that accelerates quickly. (Zygmunt Bauman)
I will do a casket of my soul for your soul, my heart a residence for your beauty, my breast a grave for your sorrows. I will love you as the lawns love the spring, and you live in the life of a flower under the sun. I will sing your name as the valley sings the echo of the bells, listen to the language of your soul like the beach listening to the history of the waves. K Gibran
Intuition is never wrong! the first impression we get about who we meet, over time, it reveals the exact one.
Love gives nothing except himself, and that does not draw from himself. The counts with no love or would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love. K Gibram
The word takes shape, like a bubble, from a quantum vacuum, a precursor of the same is not said that awareness of its significance and it is the secret. Learning to read the silence of words, opens the door and allows you to see into the soul of your party. AC = I.
We have developed an idea of \u200b\u200blove so refined that it becomes almost impossible to find a man or a woman can compete with such beauty! (I)
The real reaction is to reclaim our time and start investing in our Consciousness. Biostoricamente we are talking about consumers of time, our life is a full-time, so our real wealth is the only time in our day! Ownership of their time and become historical actors! (I)
The words of poets, warped response to the disorder of my thoughts. Card game to new pages on old threads. I also want to plot the intricacies of your thoughts. (Again the words of The Wire. AC)
I'd be ... the dream of your sleep ... the memory of your song ... the syllable of your poetry. The acceleration of your heart. The idea of \u200b\u200byour mind. The reflection of your mirror ... the thrill of your skin. The disorder of your order. The order of your existence. (From The rhymes Spazioliberina, AC)
I do not think anything of the poet. I do not believe in the tombs of homelands virtue. I do not believe in the whitewashed walls indicate that the travelers have the courage of heroes. Give the poet a plaque to seal anything. Homelands to an altar to the border limit. A plaster to the simple screen of intrigue. To me a breath, a wing, a wave, a thrill as signs of life. A Colamonico
I was sitting in the loggia of the mind, return to castle and empty of thoughts. When, in a jar and a geranium, crouched Poetry from the wires do not claim to beg me to take a shuttle, for her singing. (Discontinuity of time. Antonia Colamonico)
Order of Chaos ... harmony. Access Key harmony ... contemplation. Access key for contemplation ... loss of time. Key to the loss of time ... dream. I would like to be the key to the loss of your time ... I would be your dream. (From The rhymes Spazioliberina, A Colamonico)
me is wearing a dress like lisa ... life roughly washed with soap in the water of a restless river, left there ... on that bush to dry between desserts and more prickly thorns, prey hour wind cold time of the sun .... (The robe, G. De Vita)
Spinning Words. Reassemble the balls of the signs. The coils of the points. The levels of thought. E. .. then ... Carding thoughts. Dial the skeins and balls. Weaving words. (A Colamonico)
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