Italian Impressions

 

Scotellaro ~ Ungaretti ~ Saba ~ Pavese ~ Montale ~ Pasolini
Italian Poets who have deepened La Suzanna’s Love for Italia and Poetry

 
 
 
 

 

DEATH LOVE DEATH LOVE GARLIC AND CHOCOLATE
by Suzanne Limozinere

Prologue

An Irish man from Dublin told me:
Love equals Death.

I told the Irish man from Dublin:
Beatrice ~ The Divine Love~
disagrees.


Sacred Recipes
Santa Caterina, Piazza Bellini, Palermo

PT. 1 DEATH

My Cicisbeo and I
bloody arteries blue veins snarly tentacles
corpus cavernosum
that moment (solo quel momento) a fleeting space in time
groping gnawing penetrating
life vanishes the inevitable
Love Morto Love
desperation ensues and pursues
(sotto voce) My Cicisbeo and I
lust to conquer
Morto Love Morto
ritorno
ritorno
ritorno
we genuflect at the door of Death
begging euthanasia’s appearance

infatti we desire the muse of Love
My Cicisbeo and I
call forth ~ Beatrice~
chants prayers invocations devotions per sevire il nostro
carnal piety
Love Morto Love
ritorno
ritorno
ritorno
hitherto our realm of reality is extinguished
brick mortar blood bones blue blackness
ritorno
ritorno
ritorno
buried under your stone barricade
come back Romeo
as if it never happened


Pesce e Arte di Strada
Palermo

PT. 2 LOVE

I am...blue flame
Yoo~ hoo
devoted temptress
in a
carnal hell hole
Stockholmed
I am...caged tigress
Yoo~ hoo
My King of Roses
the savage the stunner the dangler
widowed me deserted me annihilated me
devotion parallels oblivion
I am...witchy cunt
Yoo~ hoo
I mount my ruination
upon
Master’s slaughter
perched on all fours begging
(not for forgiveness)
piles of Moroccan nothingness
spurting fountain gone
I am...hunger lust
His emission fed me His emission fed our miracles
I munched the cacti
I extracted the liquid
I slurped the drops extinction
I am... stunning necrosis
Love brought me to the brink of Death
boundless sleep was my hunger
my salvation
I am... poetic beast
Death through Love
~ Beatrice knows the truth ~
passion stone of potential
ardor idealized
consume you imagery
purity and immortality
charcoal down my throat
Did I really want to die?
Stupid questions never cease.
Don't we all for a moment of emotional marble.

Everything and Nothing
Primo Circoscrizione, Palermo

PT. 3 SEX The Ruse

Pornographic waterfalls drenched betrayals.

Itch
Kink
Frisk
Raunch with anyone who ever set eyes.

The kitty popped out out out out of the satchel.
Salacious truths unleashed.

The defining erections we pay no attention.
Lust lured a trifecta.

Time:
Not quite noon.

Place: Blistering sand Flaming sun Briny sea

Characters:
~ A handsome swishy Frenchman ~
~ Us ~

I never tasted rosé wine before.
A handsome swishy Frenchman behind the bar
poured a glass of rosé.
He thought it would be a good idea.
And then another glass of rosé.
And another.
The handsome swishy Frenchman dispensing pink water teased. But pitied refraining his letch.

Before an Unknowing Witness...

LIVES CHANGED
Our world was askew

I peered into the realm of gone.

Pasts demolished present and future.
Fusions trapped in a Sarcophagus.

My sex was His sex.

No matter how wrists are sliced.

Beatrice billowed: Don’t fret.
See where a little crush can lead?
Swapping sweat and spit.
A fleeting moment of ~ Death ~ we Love.
Relish the closeness to Death.
Die every time.
Death dissolves.
Obsession and Love live for centuries.
Buried in a Mastaba of emotional marble.

LIFE The Recovery

Morphine tablets sit regal housed in a blue glass vanity.

So as to dull.
Deceptions of murky saliva.

The lowest. The wretched. The hideous.
Stalked our Musica.

Providing a filmic view into the cavern of the devil.

Redemption is unattainable.

I am not forgiving.
I am not the species you desire.

Dannazione ~ ti prego!

Get me back.

Clawing craggy mountain ~

To the magnificent rock in Sardegna.
To the bus stop on 1st Avenue and 6th Street.
To the sweaty streets of Venezia.
To the Corner Bistro.
To the Three Bears in Central Park.
To Michaelmas.
To to to ... Lifetimes.

I am fighting parasites here!

I am languish
I am whimper
I am nightmare
I am longing

I am deathless flame.
Titillating hot pants of sweet dark Chocolate.
Alluring sizzle of bitter Garlic.
Stored in Glitter Ball.

DEATH LOVE CYCLE

We are swapping faces for the same valuables.


 

Disorso Libero
Palermo, Sicily

 

Epilogue

The Irish man from Dublin said:
Indeed. Love is Death.
I told the Irish man from Dublin:
I agree with Beatrice. I’d die every time.

The Irish man from Dublin said:
What the hell does Beatrice know ~ she’s dead.


La Mano
Trastevere, Roma

Che Ti Nutri
Trastevere, Roma


VELVETY SMOOTH
by Suzanne Limozinere

Black coffee and buttered toast
Sun is shining Marley style
I sprawl on feathers and silk
Admiring my lush garden
I am lush

The Pope is prophet-sizing

I gaze downward
Strong elegant curvy
Slightly tanned come hither shanks
Graced inheritance
Bestowed Italian blood

The Pope is prophet-sizing

Fantasy rules
I ignore the Pope
The rays bless my Eden
I spread my loins
Hair soft and light
Come il mio cuore

The Pope is prophet-sizing

Sun beams graced
Flowers between my legs
My sole purpose
I have earned very inch
Only the brave have dared
Enter my delicious void

The Pope is prophet-sizing

My mind the sole trickster
I squelch the doubts
I Roar!
Avoid a slow painful death
Advance! Or suffer!

The Pope is prophet-sizing

Clouds ballet their way
Sempre gentile
Soft touch soft speech soft words
Pillowy and silky
We all need more Velvety Smooth

The Pope is prophet-sizing

Set diamonds in your gold
Swim in Sri Lankan sapphires
Devour fresh peasant tomatoes
Hail the beach strewn ruins

The Eighties in Greece!


Umanità
Napoli


NAPOLI. NAPOLI. NAPOLI.
by Suzanne Limozinere

Il buco teeming with Vongole.
Stiff clothing drying in the pungent air.
Mass confusion at the Port.
Huge carriers ready to transport Italians
and all others
to the magical sea that will cure Italians
and all others.
Oh, those saucy streets
Napoli. Napoli. Napoli.
Oh, those eternal vistas
clouded with life’s intensity.
Oh, those lustful Neapolitans!
Glorious dark skinned heathens
banned sacrilegious soy in their sacred mud.
Prendiamo exalted espresso
and vai vai vai.
Delicate voluptuous spoonfuls of sugar.
My desire.
The first sip is heavenly.
There is no other lover that compares.


I am paralyzed by the fear of never seeing Napoli, ancora. Juliette longed for Romeo. I long for Napoli.
I transcend myself to Napoli and him, my husband.
Our marriage. Il nostro matrimonio.
He was stolen in the blackness of our sensa senso.
The infamous thieves of Napoli do not compare!
I tell myself
stai calma
remember Napoli.
Mare Nostrum!
Slimy sea urchin.
Our hard young bodies dove in the brine
and ate
raw
on the faltering boat.
I taste my pungent essence on him.
The jagged cliffs and the salty sea.
The beauty and the vile.
The posh and the ghetto.
The garbage.
I loved his garbage.
From the moment I was born.


Violet and Vito
Trastevere, Roma


 

SEA OF CASHMERE
by Suzanne Limozinere

My eyes were wild!
Burning through crusty peasant crowds.
Napoletana rage mistaken for sex appeal.
His eyes were tranquil.
A Siciliano rarity, carrot hair and blue eyes.
Our eyes clamped during a picket on a crooked corner.
Farmer’s pitch forks and bales of hay lined the streets.
Of false hope.

Il mio amore, Santo.

He dove. In deep.
We swam in a Sea of Cashmere.

Our passion swapped for a rage within us.

I can still taste the oranges on his breath, permeated.
I can still feel his rugged hands, pulling my skirt to my knees.
I can still smell the scent of leather on his vest, pungent.
I can still hear his breath, shivering down my spine.

That is all I have left.
And.
My Sea of Cashmere.

 

Violet and Vito
Trastevere, Roma


 

SEX WORKER
by Suzanne Limozinere

with i exposing
throaty voice bat eyes deep cleavage

sex worker i am

i lure darling with deranged sensuality

amore ~ recite your bile
your lies are safe with me

oh yes my sweet

tell me tell me tell me

as
i caress darling’s mangled intestines with surgical gloves
as
i suck darling’s stale blood with bamboo tubes
as
i drain darling’s pathetic veins with golden syringes

sex worker i am

darling ~ desperate to believe confides his filthy skeletons

darling is mine i am his

tell me tell me tell me

darling ~ are you safe with me?
my beautiful fool

nothing is safe! of course not!

PART 2
EXPLOSIVE WEAKNESS

we frolicked about seeped in perversions searching for escape

sex worker i am

white disease of deceit envelop us in Dante’s fire

darling ~ i wait so patient for you to burn beside me

(sotto voce) our love lost

our hearts leaping searching for a reprieve

that does not exist

we made our pact

sex games in the afternoons

our ghost children swung from the trees

Champagne poured

sucked viciously from my flute

sneaky trips behind red velvet curtains on Rue Therese

our Judas kiss stinks to the high heavens

sex workers we are

and one day again

we shall delight in the horror of our pact

 

 

UNDER THE DISCO BALL
by Suzanne Limozinere

Part 1 ~ My Inamorato

Once upon a frigid fur filled night

Under The Disco Ball

My Inamorato rescued
my deep wounds of desertion

Drowning in my Cleopatra Bath
he doused my lonely body with Sage Oil

Ancora!

Aurora beamed my lover’s fluid hips
onto our floor of whirl and twirl

Under The Disco Ball

Kismet gyrated our Hustle
into a mischievous Burlesque

A night of Sparkles and Spandex

Our Last Chance

we frisked ripe torsos
we bumped hungry groins
we sucked sugared breath

Under The Disco Ball

And then
Antiquity’s Joke

There was that awkward moment
when the fizz doesn’t go down

Static moments leave me befuddled

Our Last Supper reminiscent

The lights stopped blinking

Under The Disco Ball

 
 
 

Part 2 ~ My Wound

Our globe ceased pivoting
Our worlds flattened
Our skies vacant

Me and My Inamorato Deprived

No magic~ No potion~ No candle ~ No spell

Possesses power

Our ~ love ~ sex ~ passion stamped null and void

Despicable state

Prayers uttered

The one ~ The only ~The Mediatrix of all Graces

Does real love need prayers?

In Rumi’s Paradise the hummingbirds defy this madness

They sing song

♫ Love is never lost in our lush gardens of heaven ♫

I am on a torturous rack of time

Cursing all static all death all void

My eyes are deceived by my objects

Rara Avis perched in my boudoir

Nothing prevents my pretty little things

From speaking from levitating from taunting from imploring

Relish the sting supernatural awaits

I hunt his ghost My Inamorato

Once upon a frigid fur filled night

Under The Disco Ball