I shouldn’t be telling you this. I shouldn’t be writing these lines. They are the truth – every word of them. But the truth doesn’t set you free anymore. Nobody says it anymore. We construct our own world of only the things we can face and remove those than can hurt us – in any way. We remove words like poverty and madness and pain and ugliness and even real beauty; and keep pretending they are not there like pretending is enough. But I’ve been through so much and seen too much and maybe you can, but I cannot be silenced any longer. I can see the repulsion in your eyes as I speak loudly – for everyone to hear me. I shout that I am not ashamed of the truth, because I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of; and poverty and ugliness and pain and illness and madness and despair and struggling are nothing to be ashamed of – while hatred, and indifference and selfishness and narrow-mindedness – those are things to be ashamed of. Not getting your head up and facing the sun without any fear, being dishonest and laughing at those weaker than you, that’s what you should be ashamed of. Illness and poverty are not a shame and most did nothing to deserve them. And yet they have to lie and hide their faces. But I’m looking straight at you. And I’ll keep saying this until I can no more. They will stop me, I know. And I wonder, don’t they have anything better to do? I wonder when did everything go so wrong?
Archive for the ‘life stories’ Category
truth is
Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010Roses in the hospital
Friday, September 18th, 2009People would never understand. About the nightmares that crawl underneath her skin. About the pain and the roses. Those red roses she keeps underneath her pillow. She has used the thorns to bleed herself alive, at those dark days of stillness and endless repetition of whiteness, of bareness around her.
But there are other days too. The days she collects the roses. Those incredibly fast, radiant days when she runs with palms full of sun, eyes like volcanoes, heart like neverland and breathes out glitter and kaleidoscopic worlds.
Hurricanes and star-rains
Saturday, September 12th, 2009Time moves in circles. Clockwise. Anti-clockwise. Existence becomes intangible; it cracks with our every movement. & We fall through coiled labyrinths that lead into motionless worlds with reigning emptiness. We can feel every hard edge and every fracture of the world; it hurts. Winter will soon come and this toxic feeling of absence will grow stronger.
We do not pretend to understand how this works. You don’t hold my hand and I don’t move towards you. We stand next to each other: with glazed lips and caked eyes, full of fire. With burning suns in the place of our hearts and thoughts travelling at the speed of light.
Dissolutions
Sunday, September 6th, 2009
For more go to Visual Poetry
The Calm before the Storm
Tuesday, September 1st, 2009Falling ocean-deep into a dark whirlwind of thoughts and starry skies. There is a strange calmness as I slowly spin around on the harbour’s dark gravel. The fading voices of the people blowing smoke, the bronze half moon that we watch sinking. The tied boats and monochrome lights that create patterns around the small village. All these people who spit out words and laughter, who call me by my name and share their food and drinks and cigarettes with me – all these people I’m surrounded with… And yet I’m alone. They think I’m real, but I’m only an echo. Time and space behave as if in a dream and I’m forced to hash my screams – I know what happens to dream characters when the dream ends. I know and I clasp the rail and hold on as firmly as I can. I will not be sucked away into nothingness; I will not dissolve into air. Not yet.
But for how long?
We see clouds gathering on the sky. Sunlight never lasts. Soon the darkness will come – as it always does. I will sink in it and let it consume me whole. And when I jump into nothingness, it will be willingly.
Greek wildfires
Tuesday, August 25th, 2009As it happens for the last thirty years, every summer there is at least one out-of-control fire in Greece and the government has little idea of what is going on.
The wildfires broke out across Greece, and especially the Attica region, last Friday night. On Saturday we were awoken to a red-grey sky. We could see the fire coming closer, ashes were falling from the sky, it was getting darker and harder to breathe. Moreover, the usual craze on TV was anything but helpful.
The fire was coming too close, too fast. We were ordered to leave our houses. There was no time to pack or take anything with us. I only managed to change from my pyjamas to a pair of jeans and put on my shoes, grab my two already packed bags – since I’ve only arrived from London the night before and hadn’t unpacked – and run towards the screaming people (hard to miss).
Waiting for the plane
Saturday, August 22nd, 2009Our flight is delayed. Big surprise. I have yet to see a plane leaving on time. And I’ve been travelling since I was 3 months old. No one has the slightest idea when the plane will be ready so they move us from waiting area to waiting area. Little kids are screaming. Apparently, their toys look like terrorist weapons and the security staff won’t let them take them on board. Yes, we have all heard the stories of evil children hijacking planes and force the pilots at water-pistol-point to redirect the plane to Disneyland. I bet they have conspired with Goofy and Donald Duck to take over the world. I can do more damage with my shoe-heels, than those children with their plastic toys, but I’m not about to share that information with the airport security.
I buy chocolates for my family while we are waiting. I always get them chocolates or sweets. Sometimes I even refrain from eating them on the way and actually give them to them… Oh well. They always told us it’s the intention that matters…
The Sky is too dark
Tuesday, July 3rd, 2007They came one day with guns and told us our country didn’t belong to us. They took our houses and our lands. They shot those who resisted. They captured the moon and tortured it until it bled silver. Friends and relatives fell like tree leaves in the autumn.
We grew up with an invisible, yet impenetrable wall that wouldn’t let us stand in the ground that was ours. I saw the soldiers. I saw their guns. I felt the pain and their hate. Time didn’t bring relief. It didn’t bring peace. Only oblivion. For less people care now. They’ve accepted thing as they are. It is easier for them. But there is still a hollow place inside of us. Still a black spot where the moon used to be.
