Rain keeps me anchored,
Lazy in lockdown and fearful in life
But my imagination travels wild.
My face sighs and demands fresh humid air.
I leave the comfort
And a friend lits a spark
In my mental algorithms and my future.
She knows how
To feed my mind and the Ambition
That on Mondays
Wakes up hungry and angry.
Little monster of mine,
I love you.
I cannot judge your dream or your path
it is only yours and your vision is a unicum.
You assemble the path
and drive with a chin high up
as only your dream deserves.
Words fall short
advices gather dust,
only examples and smiles push you forward.
Sunday is a day of no schedule
But a day of sparks.
In the empty ideas play ball
And fantasies run wild.
They fuel the night
Before there Monday comes back
Worth its demands and pointing fingers.
The land of magic cannot be lost,
Once you visited it
You can always return.
Today I explore the web
Of discoveries and opinions
to build my own.
Crazy, my schemes seem art
Fuelled by creativity and imagination
But my reasoning as precise as a chessboard.
Escape your discipline,
The duty and the honour
Of working and walking
While all i see
Is time going by
With no flavour.
Patiently i shout and consider
Possibilities and present chances
Inventing a new setting
For me, for us,
Where time is only in the background
And not so abundant.
Lean in and Throw your hand
into the thin crispy air
Even if you don’t have anything.
Your offer is will
And it will be grabbed
with violence and hearty gratitude
When the hypothesis seems like a stranger
And the results hold your feet to the ground.
My lips cannot pronounce
The impact of these numbers
But only imagine it and suggest it
With metaphors and little confidence.
Numbers talk to me
And they swirl into a portray of our future
That hardly graphics can describe.
Young woman with a sculptured character
You Prevent me from running blindly
Towards a mirage with a blurred profile
And from grabbing with direct hands my illusions.
You keep me connected
To the world of decisions and actions
Where perfection is unnecessary
And purposes are valuable.
By the water, in the sun,
I draw an imaginary picture of life today.
Balloons of dialogues
And question marks from work
Fill the white populated by the people
Colours are not sure
But the voids will be filled
And the day will get its tone.
The absurd colours of nature
Ones me with their extravagance and personality.
No such bravery is permitted
In the world of humans.
Homologation as a rule to success
Reveals its limits
In the grey of clothes
And the monochrome of personalities.
Dreaming and thinking
At a double speed
To see yourselves grow
Started you down but seeds personal satisfaction.
Tortured by the question
of who you will become
You embark on a rushed slalom
On a tiny wild canoe
And steer crazy to
Escape the illusion of control.
No plans, no agendas, no reminders
When work is curious
And colleagues are stimuli.
Targets are just bites for you
Who anxiously dreams how the whole cake will be
And how the story will end
Sunny day with a lazy face,
Stand by me and lull me through the hours
Of this nonsensical routines.
The door opens silently
And the imagination escapes
Into the bright landscape
Holding hands with my secret plans.
Holidays and relaxation,
As necessary as destabilizing
When the effort is not a practical outcome
But a state is mind.
How to, is never a question
When the idea sweeps you away.
Sunny or rainy, cold or hot,
And you see only the future
In front of you.
The imagination flies free
And experiments are quick
Telling stories that fascinate the society
And provide talks over the coffee.
I live the paradox
Of being tired by sitting
And being bored by data plotting.
Refusing the surrounding drama
I enjoy my own thoughts and daydream
With my mind as a private cinema.
Travelling through the rain
And wishing a quiet meaningful future.
As a self cuddle available everywhere,
Even on the train.
Scatter on the paper
Those ideas and thoughts
that kept you awake.
Poke your inner child
and put them in graphics
With simple lines and basic colours.
A sentence of seven parts
Can delineate your message.
The days are crowded and futile
But remember to carry your lens
In your personal pocket.
Search the details that hide in the folds
And under the shoes
But define those who think
and appreciate the moments like you do.
Through your lens
Your partners, friends, and lovers
Will shine like under falling frozen snow
And you can get closer with confidence.
A mute film goes on in my mind
Where the next experiment is enacted
And proteins jump and roll
Under the perfect light
On the thinnest of the cellulose fibres.
The behaviour is unpredictable,
A moody twist of the binding
Produces a loss and a dramatic inactivity.
The tiny acrobat has fallen
But not without living an imaginary event
Of high potential for science
And of fascinating cartoonish drama for me.
The setting is not yours
And the menu has no desert
In this meeting badly organized.
Time passes while you plan your escape
And laugh inside to the crazy adventures
At the limits of the universe our on familiar sunny beaches
you could be living
Instead of answering tasteless questions and listening distractedly.
Treated like a child,
The brain learns and adapts
To the current of happenings and demands
We live in.
Cuddled it rests
And hides the power
Of future adventures
In the land of everyday’s science.
Details are in the corners
And in the last strokes of the brush
To complete the aquarello
When nobody is watching.
Sitting at the desk
The many experiments transform
Fusing in a single story
Whose last slow details
Make me feel unique.
Silence in the office
And chaos in my head
Like coffee and chocolate
To produce the fizz of a scientist ‘s mind.
While daydreaming of the perfect experiment
I release the fear of missing out
And of wasting time
Of no value.