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POETRY BY MAX BINDI

MAX BINDI

Max Bindi is an Italian English teacher, translator, and poet/singer/songwriter. His work has been featured in Italian poetry anthologies, childrens’ books and poetry magazines such as Sirens Call, Better Than Starbucks and tsuri-doro.

He is extremely active in the alternative electronic music scene with his darkwave/synth pop/goth project Outpost of Progress publishing a large number of songs in Europe and the USA.

 

GHOST SONG OF A DOUBLE TUNE

When the night
began to fall
It was like a shadow
on a ruinous wall
When the wall
began to scream
it was like
an island in the stream
when the stream
began to overflow
it was like
a graveyard
blanketed in snow
when the snow
began to thaw
it was like
we had never died before.

DARK SECRET GARDEN

In my dark secret garden
black ravens stand guard
over spectral fruits.
For each fallen fruit
a raven flies away.
For each lost black feather
an unearthly fruit grows back.

LATE AT NIGHT

Late at night
I lay awake
in a darkened room
while black phantoms
peer into my gloom
but do you see
what I see
when all ghouls
shut their eyes
and the darkness
comes eerily alive?

Late at night
lonesome wanderers
cross thin shadow lines
while unreal cities
burn in the moonlight
but do you feel
what I feel
when all spooks run wild
and the dead stars
shine ominously bright?

Late at night
spectral lovers stroll
down by the riverside
while their reflections
swim against the tide
but do you dream
what they dream
when love breaks all ties
and all faint hearts roll
like hollow dice?

Late at night
We climb over
abysmal heights
reaching out
for a frightening insight
but do you bleed
like I bleed
when the winds of sorrow
cut like a knife
and the ghost of tomorrow
weaves his uncanny web of life?

DIRE CONSEQUENCES

The mountains of madness
are in flames,
the rivers of hell
overflow their banks,
the burning earth
trembles to its very core,
and all the monsters of the abyss
are washed ashore.
The wild winds howl
breeding ghostly forms,
the seven headed beast prowls
roaring like a raging storm
and the devil’s rain falls
on the just and the unjust
and over the forgotten folks
creeping out of the murky past
and it is too late to scream
too dark to see black
the eternal void is ready
to burst at its seams
cause nothing will come back