Wine Cellar In Cold Cellar

Sometimes I hear people are happy with the work done by Berlusconi in Abruzzo.
Instead I propose a more realistic look. The blog address developments and neighborhoods, and then I got the idea to write a poem dedicated to those people, not done more to see, who still live in the middle of a road.

That night they slept all
all intent on dreaming in silence the dark,
those dreams were stopped, the earthquake
pressed "stop",
houses shook the churches and squares,
shook so hard,
all crumbled like a waffle,
crumbled ,
radio the next morning all the newspapers the TV announced, that an earthquake
,
had arrived in L'Aquila,
swept away all the memories,
wiped out friends, work
swept away, swept away
students, all worried that
April 6, 2009, from all over Italy went
,
went to help dig,
digging through the rubble,
days of panic,
days of pain, terrible pain
forgotten.

forgotten by the state, forgotten by
TV,
forgotten by the newspapers, he also forgot
,
he had promised, then promised
,
vanished into thin air, with two
,
two buildings, buildings with glory
,
was observed
was observed
did touch a few,
did touch a few, new glasses, cutlery
blankets,
terrible delusion,
movie set, the retro
is never seen, never
, do not you
they see, said
,
"The Abruzzo are happy," they said
,
but the Abruzzi were
were with the government,
angry, angry
,
him
promises and,
angry with the director of this Italy shabby,
with the captain of the ship,
like the Titanic is sinking,
with one difference,
our captain was chosen.

is said,
is said to have done who knows what,
is said to have arranged everything
,
is said to have rebuilt schools, and a choir
sympathetic voters to buy future
is said to be Alright,
they say, they say
.

were sunken all the evidence, do not see why
corrupt
do not see why if not lose their jobs,
secret
who can tell only those who go to see,
concealed
buried like a corpse.
would be a perfect film but unfortunately, the reality is
Italian.