The late Michael Cimino 

With a new glass of Pinot 

Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc.

While you’re choosing a pun

That I can’t escape ever

You will try hard to sever

And to tell a new tale

That all war is a joke

And if someone did choke

It was never your fault

 You will find a new colt

 To play with it forgiven

And destroy the old evil

In its rottening dreams

Where everything feels

So perfectly silent. 

You will chose a new file and

Write it into your will

Who’s to pay the last bill

Of your ruining hopes

of a loosening rope

Tied around your neck

Which still tries to object

To the imminent torture 

You will find your last fortune 

In the fishy blue eyes 

Which have lived through your lies

And through your childish stories 

In the land of last tories

Saying their good bye

So that I never try

To get there despite them

Or to see through what I am

In this desperate fight

Between darkness and light,

Where I lost you forever

And you stayed with your fever

Burning brighter than hell 

Felt within every cell

Of your sacrificed body

Where suffering’s coded

Whithin your DNA

Which will still deviate

From the God’s will within it

You will whisper your innit

And will seal your goodbye 

To conceal the last lie,

That the war is a joke,

Silly thing that evokes

Huge artistic response

To reveal all the cons

That all art is quite useless

And I’ll stay here clueless

Searching for a slight sign

Of the one who’ll opine.

October 2023