Almond's trunk

"The stolen air of the truth"
From the best guarded of all vaults
Are wired snakes of living thoughts,
Reaching the hidden breathing smooth.

Those, who are capable of this
Revolting within a small universe,
Help to escape from the locked shelves
Hope, the last Pandora's gift.

Luccul and Lucius

- You are looking rather cool,
Dear friend of mine Luccul.
Your opinion open say,
Did you like my meal today?

- Thank you, Lucius, for asking!
My opinion I'm not masking:
Did you try the soup of tripe?
I'm afraid, I have the gripes.

‑ Oh, Jupiter with his thunder!
Where's the cook? I'll spell karamba!
I shall make a meal of him:
Sticks will be his only dream!


Thousand years of dreams
About the loveliness of the marble perfection -
The roses and wine
In the black and red amphoras,
The shore of the epic
Are nothing if they are buried in sand,
Where the gold Can't be found. The great army
Of rich but with words poets
Wins the forgotten battle of the antique
 With only one glance
At the ruined city,
Whose sexual kick
Was solved by a new puzzle
Of the leather outfit an the semi‑divine body.

It's still clear,
 How to distinguish the hot
And the cold comfort,
Though both deal with a piece of reality,
A peace of mind,
A piece of peace
And the other peaceful parts
Of this beautiful ‑ not only for fools -
World, where we can fly but in our dreams,
Sending the arrows of
Not always peaceful desires
Day alter night,
Night after day.

But more important
Is to solve a new charade
About being useful
For our own treasure,
Given to us
With the first sip of air,
With the first spark of
Electricity in our brain,
Looking like that walnut
I have chosen for my poor teeth.

And also to guess,
How to amuse that marble
That breathes the wonderful air
Of its own reality while
Telling us the truth
As if telling a fiction of the spirit.
Yet we are not only spirits.