CANTO XX11 (begins here)
"Oh, we got the message,
there is some imagination left,
a MOLESKINE needs a rest,
what became The Divine Comedy?
I know his mother died before he grew,
sounds like you’re turning her inside out.
Bring back Beatrice I say,
La Vita Nuova,
aren’t we entitled to music,
Why does the search for an honest man
have to entail such misery?
Twenty-one years that epic took
- the one you so admire.
Twenty-one days you’ve been writing
and we’re still in Hell.
take us on to Purgatory,
MOLESKINES bask in Paradise.
Cafe Paradiso - now that was a better story."
It was late in the day when I came to that wood
the sun had gone down to win back the day
the moon in her light, the stars where they should
An order sublimely dictated, a thrown they say
nine circles torment the wicked unworthy life.
Where’s my Virgil, we face a monstrous way.
Bring me bright terraces of a promised land,
write your path to purification.
Peace and hope this MOLESKINE offers you.
Mary of my dreams,
I could give her to you,
if you’ll take her hand as guide.
Who knows who sits on the thrown these days,
it might well be the one you seek.
Some say the Angels call the shots,
but demand you become blind
in order to see the radiance
of the honest soul exposed.
Get a move on,
you’ve met the thieves,
hypocrites, soothsayers, flatterers
and you’re a blasphemer.
Stop taking the piss out of the abyss,
there are spendthrifts adrift
on the surface of the Green Lake.
Come off your high horse
and puncture a few for me."
(to be continued here)