August 4, 2017

Malice draped in pretty

Filed under: Collateral Poetry — Shylock @ 4:19 PM
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Malice draped in pretty can get away with murder.


September 12, 2016


Filed under: Collateral Poetry,πόλις [polis] — Shylock @ 4:56 PM


Collapse is a sudden, involuntary and chaotic form of simplification.

August 14, 2016


Filed under: Collateral Poetry,oppio dei popoli — Shylock @ 9:12 AM
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Autodafé: il vandalismo contro
le mosche lo commetto tutti i giorni.

July 12, 2016

La Vie Devant Soi

Filed under: Collateral Poetry,haiku — Shylock @ 1:57 PM
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La Vie Devant Soi :
la grande saggezza del
piccolo Momo.

“J’ai jamais aimé faire de la peine aux gens, je suis philosophe.”

“Les cauchemars, c’est ce que les rêves deviennent toujours en vieillissant.”

“Monsieur Hamil est un grand homme, mais les circonstances ne lui ont pas permis de le devenir.”

“Je pense que pour vivre, il faut s’y prendre très jeune, parce qu’après on perd toute sa valeur et personne ne vous fera de cadeaux.”

June 14, 2015

Vi prego, ditemi che è uno scherzo

Filed under: Collateral Poetry — Shylock @ 9:25 AM
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Direttore responsabile sarà Vladimiro Ilic Frulletti, da sempre giornalista della stessa Unità, che era stato nominato vicedirettore a maggio.

Ovvero: quando i nomi sono scritti
da uno sceneggiatore della Disney.

May 29, 2014

Semo ‘a Capitale

Filed under: Collateral Poetry,πόλις [polis] — Shylock @ 11:15 AM
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« Per noi fascisti le frontiere, tutte le frontiere, sono sacre. Non si discutono: si difendono. »
(Dal discorso pronunciato al Parlamento, il 16 Marzo 1938). – XI, 228.

I volantini, sotto la riproduzione fotografica di Priebke in divisa da ufficiale delle SS, recano le scritte “Onore al camerata Priebke” e “Gli ordini non si discutono, si eseguono”.

Sulla casacca per il 2014/2015 non manca la celebre frase ‘La Roma non si discute si ama’ che il capitano spiega così: “E’ la frase più importante per un romanista”.

February 10, 2014

Arti & Mestieri

Filed under: Collateral Poetry — Shylock @ 12:53 PM

Dopo ‘spingitori di cavalieri’,
abbattitori di pini marittimi’.

March 19, 2013

Ciuchino I

Filed under: Collateral Poetry,oppio dei popoli — Shylock @ 7:58 PM
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Non abbiate paura della tenerezza.

February 20, 2013

Pece e piume

Filed under: Collateral Poetry,Poetic Justice — Shylock @ 11:04 PM


“Chi ha un titolo di studio inferiore può, al massimo, se starà male nella vita, rubare nelle carrozze dei treni. Chi ha un master, può rubare un’intera ferrovia”.

Oscar ‘Master of the Universe’ Giannino

“Old man,” said the young one, “I reckon we might double-team it together; what do you think?”
“I ain’t undisposed. What’s your line—mainly?”
“Jour printer by trade; do a little in patent medicines; theater-actor—tragedy, you know; take a turn to mesmerism and phrenology when there’s a chance; teach singing-geography school for a change; sling a lecture sometimes—oh, I do lots of things—most anything that comes handy, so it ain’t work. What’s your lay?”
“I’ve done considerble in the doctoring way in my time. Layin’ on o’ hands is my best holt—for cancer and paralysis, and sich things; and I k’n tell a fortune pretty good when I’ve got somebody along to find out the facts for me. Preachin’s my line, too, and workin’ camp-meetin’s, and missionaryin’ around.”

The king got out an old ratty deck of cards after breakfast, and him and the duke played seven-up awhile, five cents a game. Then they got tired of it, and allowed they would “lay out a campaign,” as they called it. The duke went down into his carpet-bag, and fetched up a lot of little printed bills and read them out loud. One bill said, “The celebrated Dr. Armand de Montalban, of Paris,” would “lecture on the Science of Phrenology” at such and such a place, on the blank day of blank, at ten cents admission, and “furnish charts of character at twenty-five cents apiece.” The duke said that was him. In another bill he was the “world-renowned Shakespearian tragedian, Garrick the Younger, of Drury Lane, London.” In other bills he had a lot of other names and done other wonderful things, like finding water and gold with a “divining-rod,” “dissipating witch spells,” and so on.

Here comes a raging rush of people with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke astraddle of a rail—that is, I knowed it was the king and the duke, though they was all over tar and feathers, and didn’t look like nothing in the world that was human—just looked like a couple of monstrous big soldier-plumes.

Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

October 14, 2012

Winter’s Bone

Filed under: Collateral Poetry — Shylock @ 3:32 PM

Never ask for what ought to be offered.

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