Update: New poem “I want to dream of a Sleeping Reality”

God's creation of Eve while Adam slept.

I have just added a new poem titled “I Want to Dream of a Sleeping Reality,” the common thread of which is a deep desire to overcome the rigidity of superstructures imposed by man in his search for a “supreme rule.”

It is the rhapsodic expression of a cry of despair: reality must not bend to self-imposed wills; man can and must overcome the limit of morality to find his true nature!

I want to dream of a sleeping reality

I want to dream of a sleeping reality: let’s discover in the verses how the will to power (Nietzsche) to overcome an unnatural reality can make one want to dream of a world oblivious to man’s self-imposed rules.

Considerations on the Apollonian and Dionysian according to Nietzsche’s philosophy

Nietzsche’s conception of Apollonian and Dionysian principles represents a fundamental aspect of his philosophy. According to Nietzsche, the Apollonian represents order, rationality, and beauty, embodying harmony, clarity, and form. In contrast, Dionysians symbolize chaos, irrationality, and ecstasy, reflecting passion, spontaneity, and emotion.

While acknowledging the importance of the Apollonian, Nietzsche expresses a clear preference for the Dionysian. He believed embracing the Dionysian allowed individuals to tap into their primal instincts, creativity, and deeper emotional truths. For Nietzsche, the Dionysian represented a more authentic and liberating way of being, breaking free from the constraints of social norms and rationality.

Various antiques
The idea of the Dionysian is dominant in Nietzsche as he saw in the creative force of chaos and ecstasy an actual realization of the human spirit. On the contrary, the Apolinnean order is always subordinated to “artificial” and unnatural rules. Man should pursue the Dionysian while not forgetting the positive essence of the Apollonian.

In essence, Nietzsche viewed the Apollonian and Dionysian as complementary forces that, if balanced, could lead to a more fulfilling and enriched human experience. Embracing the Dionysian alongside the Apollonian could enable individuals to transcend limitations, embrace their full potential, and live authentically.

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Update: New poetic prose: “Bacchus, Tobacco, and Venus: over the centuries faithful”

Pile of bottles: the vice of drinking alcohol certainly tops the list of pleasures and vices

I have added a new poetic prose entitled “Bacchus, Tobacco, and Venus: over the centuries faithful.” It is a tribute to pleasure, to life, and in defense of all those activities that the most boorish moralism tends to stigmatize and relegate to the “cellar of vices.”

Bacchus, Tobacco, and Venus: over the centuries faithful

Enter the universe of extravagance and the pleasures of life! A hymn to vice that pierces moralism and raises praise to the joy of living!

Note on the cult of the god Bacchus.

Bacchus, also known as Dionysus in Greek mythology, was the god of wine, celebrations, and ecstasy. He was often associated with the joyous and wild festivals celebrating his name. These festivals, known as Bacchanalia, were lively and energetic gatherings that praised Bacchus and engaged in wine consumption.

One of the main characteristics of Bacchus and the festivals held to honor him was the emphasis on wine. Wine played a central role in these festivals, symbolizing the essence of Bacchus himself. Wine consumption during festivals was believed to cause a state of ecstasy and unbridled joy.

A scene of a bacchanal (festival in honor of the god Bacchus) painted by W. Bouguereau (1825 - 1905)
A scene of a bacchanal (festival in honor of the god Bacchus) painted by W. A. Bouguereau (1825 – 1905)

Another remarkable aspect of these celebrations was their lively and exuberant nature. Bacchus festivals were known for their vibrant and energetic atmosphere, full of music, dancing, and revelry. Participants wore elaborate costumes, adorned themselves with ivy and vines, and engaged in ecstatic dancing and singing, all in honor of Bacchus.

These festivals were not limited to a particular place. Bacchus and his followers roam the countryside, celebrating in various settings such as forests, mountains, and natural landscapes. They often led processions, known as “bacchic processions,” where they marched through the streets, singing and dancing in honor of Bacchus.

In addition to the actual festivities, the bacchanalia also had a spiritual aspect. It was believed that by participating in these celebrations, individuals could achieve a state of divine communion with Bacchus. This connection was thought to bring blessings, fertility, and a sense of liberation.

Overall, Bacchus and the festivals organized to praise him with wine were characterized by a focus on celebration, ecstasy, and indulgence. They offered participants the opportunity to let go of their inhibitions, enjoy the joy of life, and connect with the divine through wine-drinking and exuberant parties.


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Update: New poetic prose “A Clock Ticks”

Detail of the mechanism of a mechanical clock

I have just added a new poetic prose entitled “A Clock Ticks.” It is a kind of elegy related to the inner observation of the periodic movement of a mechanical clock. Along with the gears, various natural elements also show their periodic oscillation between two poles that, although in opposition, eventually merge into a unity that transcends its original components.

A clock ticks

Observe how the clock pulses, cartons roll, stolen words fill a void of systole and diastole, and how wind songs meet poetry!

Historical considerations on the pendulum and periodic motion

With its ancient origins, the pendulum has played a crucial role in measuring time throughout history. Galileo Galilei first discovered it in the 16th century when they observed the oscillatory motion of a chandelier in a cathedral. Fascinated by this regular and predictable motion, Galileo realized that the pendulum could be used to measure time.

However, Christiaan Huygens, a Dutch scientist, truly revolutionized the use of the pendulum in measuring time. In the 17th century, Huygens designed the first practical grandfather clock, which used a pendulum to regulate the movement of the clock’s gears. This innovation significantly improved the accuracy of timing devices, leading to significant progress in various fields such as astronomy, navigation, and engineering.

Detail of Foucault's pendulum
Detail of the Foucault pendulum, an ingenious instrument invented to demonstrate the rotation of the Earth in a “visual” way.

The pendulum’s ability to maintain a constant and precise swing has made it an invaluable tool for measuring time. This was achieved because its oscillation period remains constant, regardless of the amplitude. As a result, pendulum clocks became the most accurate timekeeping devices for centuries until the invention of quartz crystal oscillators.

Today, although pendulum clocks are no longer the primary method of measuring time, their historical significance and contribution to the development of time measurement cannot be underestimated. They remain a testament to the ingenuity and curiosity of those early scientists who unlocked the mysteries of the pendulum and its applications in measuring time. They also still play an essential role in measuring musical time through mechanical metronomes based on an inverted pendulum. However, they have also often been replaced with more compact and efficient digital metronomes.


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Update: New story “Contemporary Comedy”

A man covering his head with a box. A representation of the desire to escape from pain or unpleasant situations

I just added a new long story (almost a mini-novel) titled “Contemporary Comedy.” The themes covered are those of grief processing, a complicated love relationship, and the onset of irrationality at the climax of suffering and frustration. I hope you enjoy it, and I look forward to reading your comments!

Contemporary comedy

How does a person deal with the disorder and the processing of grief? Learn from Fausto Marinelli’s experience in this existential tale by Giuseppe Bonaccorso.

Philosophical-psychological considerations

Grief processing, in the context of discovering something awful like an illness or the death of a relative, refers to the emotional and psychological journey individuals go through to come to terms with their loss. It is a natural response to a significant life event that causes intense sadness, shock, disbelief, and even anger.

In the face of such devastating news, people often experience a range of emotions that can be overwhelming and confusing. Grief processing helps people process and navigate these emotions, enabling them to accept and adapt to their new reality gradually.

In the case of a disease diagnosis, grieving involves coming to terms with the impact the disease will have on one’s life, as well as the uncertainties and challenges that lie ahead. It may involve seeking information and support from health professionals, joining support groups, or engaging in self-care practices to cope with the physical and emotional burden.

Similarly, when faced with the death of a loved one, grieving involves acknowledging the loss, mourning the person’s absence, and finding ways to honor his or her memory. This may include participating in funeral rituals, sharing stories and memories with others, and seeking comfort in the support of family and friends.

Ultimately, grief processing is a personal journey that enables people to heal and rebuild their lives in adversity. It takes time, patience, and self-compassion to navigate the waves of pain and find peace and acceptance.


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Montale’s squaring word

A formless soul, devoid of regularity, incapable of adapting to the rigid boundaries that quadrature imposes is what Eugenio Montale (1896 – 1981), in the incipit of his celebrated collection “Cuttlefish Bones” (many poems are contained in “The Collected Poems of Eugenio Montale“), considers as its most intimate and unalterable essence.

Don't ask us the word that squares on every side of our formless soul, 
And in letters of fire declares it 
And shines like a crocus 
Lost amid a dusty meadow. 

Ah, the man who goes safely away,
friend to others and himself,
and he doesn't care about his shadow that the heatwave
prints above a shabby wall!

Do not ask us for the formula that worlds can open to you
Yes, some crooked syllables and dry as a branch.
This is only what we can tell you today,
what we are not or what we don't want.

Not perfection of contours or gleaming letters placed on top of skyscrapers but rather a disarming naturalness expressed by defining the aesthetic and moral canons through which any evaluation must take place. Not golden rules or acmes of Greek perfection but simply the self, naked and exposed to all weathers and never afraid to manifest itself even in the shadows, where consensuses fade into everlasting silence.

Not even the “word,” that seed so often transformed into the most diverse linguistic creatures by Montale himself, seems to be able to acquire the right to square a soul so filled with doubtful restlessness. Indeed, to avert the risk of having to face the disappointing discovery that no “Logos” or “Word” can succeed in such a burdensome endeavor, the poet begins with a most peremptory warning: a formless soul can never splash with its violet enthusiasm the monotonous spread of the field of existence. Only dust, the infinitesimal division of every already fragmentary experience, can settle without qualms or pretensions.

The word, whether written or sculpted, is for Montale that unreachable limit that, while caging man, forces him into an unbridgeable incompleteness
The “word,” whether written or sculpted, is for Montale that unreachable limit that, while caging man, forces him into an unbridgeable incompleteness.

But what are these extraordinary “letters of fire” through which the soul should be “declared”? Perhaps Montale does not know them either; perhaps he senses their existence and foreshadows their immense appeal to the most erratic, but he cannot own them. Perhaps, on the contrary, in the dimness of a summer sunset, he felt its warmth as he was “dazzled” by a ruthless Sun that reveals the impregnable solitude reverberating among the “bottle shards” placed to guard an interiority condemned to eternal exile.

If such letters were actually to exist, they would become the summary of a life “constrained” in the whirlwind attempt to observe itself from the outside, a soul aware of the perennial “ennui” which, by rising above the clouds and the stars themselves, becomes capable of no longer perceiving the rough contours of the “inner” stone, forcing man, however, to transition from self-realization (Zenit spiritual) to the dangerous loss of any connection with reality (nadir).

Security is precisely seen as the worst of dangers: as long as man is illuminated by the Sun, constantly needs its rays, and has to lean against the ground or a wall, he will willingly or unwillingly allow a shadow to escape that will indelibly “stain” the surrounding reality.

Therefore, no man can go unnoticed: those who attempt to conceal their existence or think they do not interfere with anything are destined for the shocking realization that they are not alone!

Unformed, scuffed, or covered with shards of glass, the little wall we follow to keep beside us will be our witness, just like the Black Stone of Mecca, which, having absorbed all the sins of man, is changed from a whiteness of white to the darkest of visible colors. The shadow stains penetrate deep and take root to the point of transforming the essence of the rock itself: of too little use is the superficial security of the distracted man.

The shadows cast by the sun on a stumbling wall represent for Montale the most genuine realities of our existence as being-in-the-world
The shadows cast by the sun on a “stumbling wall” represent for Montale the most genuine realities of our existence as “being-in-the-world,” a “place” where it is only the Other that legitimizes our steps toward the inescapable.

It is much better, therefore, to limit oneself to a more morose boldness: if squaring is the tendency of man who wishes to elevate himself, he can always seek the solution through a “negative” process, that is, by seeking what he does not allow himself to grasp, those ideas and patterns that “escape” and whose nature is in no way reflected on the imperfect surface of individuality.

The poet can, therefore, come to a conclusion: the power of definition is ideally suited to beings now transcended to a reality where nothing can ever be overshadowed by “egoic” uncontrolled instincts, but it is almost inadequate in a world where no formula can ever give birth to new universes and where only a few, “crooked,” unanimated “syllables” can give shape to the few, fleeting glimmers that sometimes appear to us as unquenchable fires.

If you like this post, you can always donate to support my activity! One coffee is enough!

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Update: new short story: “The Pact”

man in black jacket standing in front of neon light signageI’ve added a new short story titled “The Pact.” The character searches for a place to intone an invocation one winter night. Follow him in his story and experience the most disturbing encounter with him! I hope you enjoy it, and I look forward to reading and answering your comments!

The pact

Michele Borgia searches for a place to intone an invocation one winter night. Follow him in his story and experience the most disturbing encounter with him!

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Update: new poem “Nymphs, elves, gods and goats”

news, daily newspaper, pressI’ve added a new poem, “Nymphs, elves, gods, and goats.” It’s a contemporary poetic composition that depicts a scene with nymphs, elves, gods, and goats waiting in the wings. Meanwhile, Venus laughs, Pan runs here and there, flamenco dancers scramble, and Polyphemus gazes at the horizon. You can find inspiration in Ulysses’s dreams. Read about a dusty heaven in this mythological poem!

Nymphs, elves, gods and goats

Nymphs, elves, gods, and goats wait in the wings. Venus laughs, Pan wears herself out, flamenco dancers, and Polyphemus. Find inspiration in the dreams of Ulysses. Read Dusty Heaven in a mythological poem.

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In Praise of Silence

woman in brown topYou speak. Nevertheless, those lips vibrate like the beating of a gnat’s wings. Speak. You speak when the sun screams, or the rain whiningly whispers its song. In the cracks in the wall, the slowly advancing snail, the dust shading the balcony railing.

Perhaps you find your outlet at night, but what prize can be given to an eternal winner? Is it not like that lemon tree still hanging on the old branch? Isn’t that your voice? Thunderous as the roar of the void, insistent as the had that never stops telling lives?

And what words can reach the poet’s pen to draw a picture of your eloquence? Perhaps one should follow the pirouettes of smoke rising from the coffee cup. Perhaps one should bathe in the glare of an undecided tear. Was the man crying? Or was it the harassing pollen masquerading as an indistinguishable Pierrot?

Speak. Despite everything, you speak. Even when no one wants to listen to you, the illusion you give is lovely. Like May air, you make love to every creature, but the limelight is never yours. Speak. And, in your speaking, you give life silence.


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Update: new poetry “Like the counterweight of a metronome”

man sitting on bench reading newspaperI’ve just added a new poem called “Like the counterweight of a metronome,” which I composed a few years ago to give my perception of time a lyrical aspect. I hope you like it and add your comments. I’m looking forward to reading and answering them!


Like the counterweight of a metronome

An unstoppable chronostasis: Discover how the moment hides behind a metronome beat and human existence in its unstoppable eternal presence.

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