Archive for the ‘Writings’ Category

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If only for a moment

Monday, March 8th, 2010

Worlds have collapsed and walls are closing in. Idealism burns silver – past the farthest shore, down the deepest cliff. Here in this darkness-heaving ocean the sonnets are hushed. The earth is pounding, the waning moon fading
       && I’m a story written in words you don’t understand – drifting into feathery slumber; encircled by a darkened solitude and an inmost desire for the sun.

I’m brittle air; a puddle not a river. With violet eyes, green, blue, grey. Dejected. Empty. But sometimes I become a burning volcano, and I bleed butterfly colours. The songs are not dumb anymore and I am immune to poison. And with my Daedalus’ wings I rise from the ashes.

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truth is

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010

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?

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MockingBird

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

Tangled in purple and turquoise threads, in truths that used to be lies and lies that used to be truths. I cannot seem to find my way through these dull stars. Through reflections and shadows, through dissolving towers, that yesterday stood among white gold moons. I have walked through worlds that shivered with grief, that rippled from torment. And worlds that dazzled like abundant dreams. Intangible worlds. Fragile. They shudder as I lift my eyelids.

& I’m lost again like rain and tears; the walls around me crack and I can’t paint it all they way they were before. I can’t play this game of deception anymore. The colourful facets and false memories. The running mascara and clown smiles. I can’t run fast enough to escape from my own  thoughts. I can’t run at all. It’s all falling apart and I’m standing through the rain – a mockingbird with no face of my own and a million crying voices that I do not recognize.

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Memories

Monday, October 12th, 2009

Some call it a gift, but it’s my curse – to see through the walls of all worlds, possible and impossible, past and future. I can feel the pain of every butterfly you kill, of every flower you step on. I can see what you could never dare and I remember everything. The melodies and orbits of the universe, its heart and the brightness of the sun stars and the absolute emptiness of a black hole, all contained within a dream, a dream of pain and roses.

I know you and I’ll never forget.

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Roses in the hospital

Friday, September 18th, 2009

People 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.

(more…)

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Hurricanes and star-rains

Saturday, September 12th, 2009

Time 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.

(more…)

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Dissolutions

Sunday, September 6th, 2009

For more go to Visual Poetry

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The Calm before the Storm

Tuesday, September 1st, 2009

Falling 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.

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Summer Tale

Wednesday, August 12th, 2009

Underwater light falls like a feather; the sun-rays drip and spill all around.
The sun’s turning orange and crimson, burning the sky with the last of its light, before slowly fading to the infinite night.
She is white like porcelain with green/blue/purple eyelids. She has fallen asleep, naked on the sand.

We’ve been running all day. Underneath the sea-waters.
It’s alright, she said. You can breathe. We are mermaids. We can reach farther and farther, with figures ever-stretching, ever-reaching and minds ever-wondering, ever-searching.
Just breathe.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now she’s lying next to red poppies and golden gravel. I kiss her lips and pay her in sea-shells and summer berries. I have to leave before she wakes up and swallows me whole, with her red-coral-hands and carnivorous starfish eyes.

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Fairytale-Girl

Thursday, August 6th, 2009

Underneath the midnight blue sky, her eyes are flickering, glistening, dripping salty pearls. She’s frail, like wings of a butterfly; parched for colours, for rainbows, for stars undead. Standing in the middle of the rainstorm she is calling to the moon, the sky, the water nymphs.
She wants to be a fairytale. White like snow, red locks of hair like flames, and ruby lips like a blood rose, like the poisonous apple. A butterfly-like girl with a swan neck and a silky purple dress, long enough to fit the moon.

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