Lip Piercing Canker Sore

Today when I looked at the evidence of the musical "Peter Pan", hearing the song "The Fairy", written by Jackson, came to my mind many things ....
Jackson wrote it in 1977, the album "Puppet wireless ".... I remember well, was my Christmas present I was 13 years. A complex period in every sense ..... this song is dedicated to all women, the role of women in the world and its completeness. She understood as a universe of free love, the one who always is there.
Jackson in '77 was against the metaphorical power, even that which is opposed to the peaceful nature and in need of protection as the woman ..... The feelings twisted and violent men were always there, but ultimately our hearts are being challenged by episodes of the news that goes beyond our imagination.

A thought for a little fairy who is no more, no rhetoric, no noise, only with a sad heart that another woman, a mother like me, you can try for your absurd death. ...

Love everyday

to calm the agitated,

between pots and steam you get only love .....

not inspire the pen of the poet,
wife or six, or six Moon
or a doll made of clay.

songs and dances,
, dancing and playing ...
you the music in your heart,
little stubborn, adorable bow ...

Your notes are like autumn leaves
; in the wind .... wind that helps to fall ...

but autumn always comes back and you
, you can listen to ..........


; Floriana, 1985


A poem written on an old diary ...... of my 20 years ....... say hello to Sarah.



From Beppe Grillo's Blog:

"unemployed, precarious, slut, virgin raped, promoted Minister for the 'look, your ass, but also helps the mouth, forced to accept advances at work, family and prey to the desires of criminals, killed by his uncles, husbands, lovers, former friends, thrown on the street by pimps, introduced in the beds of the powerful as a gift for acquiring the condescension. Extracomunitari and minor, by the thousands, most girls, fresh meat on the streets of every city, easy conquest of the fathers of shit and total indifference of the family. Miss Italy who show their wares in the early evening, girls that you do not remember the smile, the look, but only the breasts, loins, the hollow of the thighs, with valleys in the butt floss in all the television programs, half-naked in the night of Christmas goods scratch and fuck, available to the Italians, unaware of the small screen would-be whores. Underpaid, the share rose, residual, marginal, excluded from decisions from politics, no civil rights if not blessed with the sanctity of marriage, without a pension even if wife did for a living, no kindergarten, no green space for her children, because the children are women, almost always. Body and person, and do not mind hole. Subject of modern sleeve with lips and cheekbones wolf in old age like an old madam of the brothels. Shaped by the needs and the triumph of the male member, lord and master of his life. No more person, but subject, you can use, loan, strangling hold. A mass transfer has transformed it from a living being thing in common availability, access, that can not be denied, they are no longer the law. Private property, but also public, by strangling in case of refusal, the social ladder just above an inflatable doll, to own even after death, because one thing is not alive and not dead. It 's just one thing, a woman, nothing more than a woman. "