over the midnight

like a talisman wrapped in those incantations used as a mantra, as if is a must, not just to understand the words; it’s a demand for being felt till the bones, simply making you merge in lyrics, in the arrangements of sounds and his gentle voice

what will you say tonight…

 ❝ What will you say tonight, poor lonely soul, 

What will you say, the old withered heart of mine, 
To the most beautiful, the best, most dear, 
Whose heavenly regard brings back your bloom? 
    — We will assign our pride to sing her praise: 
Nothing excels the sweetness of her will; 
Her holy body has an angel’s scent, 
Her eye invests us with a cloak of light. 
    Whether it be at night and solitude, 
Or in the streets among the multitude, 
Her ghost before us dances like a torch. 
    It speaks out: ‘I’m lovely and command 
That for my sake love, you’ll adore only the Beautiful; 
I am your Guardian, Madonna, and the Muse!’ ❞
— Charles Baudelaire —
performed in the manner of Georges Chelon

want it all

from one end to the other end,
from the first accord to last string,
from beginning till finale limit,
from existence to resistance
in a love that can’t be stopped for
being too starved and wild and
with the luggage at a portal filled
with tenderness to be perceived
from horizons towards infinity
flying from a skyline to another
for is motivated to want it all