The door opened and the sea poured into my eyes.
Then, the sun splashed onto it and rivalled an affair with my pupils.
There was once a secret garden. Shhh.. only birds whose name is yellow
speak of the location unknown to the glamded...underground mice
Hal hail all haze down to the mares of zebra-stripes and wondrous bite of a meal
a sole swimming down the litte ocean path screamed up high to the yellows
the yellows shocked themselves into mermaids that jumped down onto a surface
that crystallized itself into sugar and fell through becoming one with the grains of sand..
better with you mad...than all alone sane...
(as we say in Greece)
come into my secret garden...
come come again in two my seacrest pure den...
Friday, June 08, 2007
Monday, June 04, 2007
One ! Two! Three! Four! watch me push it!
One: Wave embellished in the smell of metal, le notti del terrore, amazing, boy, excuse the abuse, friend, today has been day of the the fire-drill cospired against a woman who has magic found magic...: The technical:ah and aural:oh achievements: woha..
Two: In my corner, in my place, light it up and wait, rises and falls of books, Greek lives, fashionably late after the alarm back to the green light which produces the love of my life. Chased by paper, rise above the mountain of white like a queen, lists of verbal and uncoscious actions within dreams of what they could be saying.
Three: What did your face look like when you thought you learnt? I could have paid money to have seen this. Imagination paid me the right visit yesterday, it was fun.
Watch me: This is not literary,,, quite literal in its sense of jouissance, bonjour aujourdhui, the not mad not woman not in the attic down London bridge away from The BIG EYE though
staring down
the horizon
I hide away from or not
if I feel like looking up...ein the distance
I find a little ashtray made for four toi.!
Push it: Livia and life of the time to take your own party for your party to the per tea dazed into the bed of running away from ridiculous situations, wake up and smell the burnt... pot...
Did you forget the gas on again dare-bling?
Bling bling bling, ding ding ding...Hello..
Two: In my corner, in my place, light it up and wait, rises and falls of books, Greek lives, fashionably late after the alarm back to the green light which produces the love of my life. Chased by paper, rise above the mountain of white like a queen, lists of verbal and uncoscious actions within dreams of what they could be saying.
Three: What did your face look like when you thought you learnt? I could have paid money to have seen this. Imagination paid me the right visit yesterday, it was fun.
Watch me: This is not literary,,, quite literal in its sense of jouissance, bonjour aujourdhui, the not mad not woman not in the attic down London bridge away from The BIG EYE though
staring down
the horizon
I hide away from or not
if I feel like looking up...ein the distance
I find a little ashtray made for four toi.!
Push it: Livia and life of the time to take your own party for your party to the per tea dazed into the bed of running away from ridiculous situations, wake up and smell the burnt... pot...
Did you forget the gas on again dare-bling?
Bling bling bling, ding ding ding...Hello..
Friday, May 18, 2007
Drop it you cannot lose it.
The light flickers of one of the office's across flickers disrupting the calmness....
picking A man is frantically picking up the contents of a box from the night's pavement. He size-zero looks old as if he came out of a size-zero marathon with grey woman slightly long hair wrapped in a little bow making him look like hair an old woman but he is a man.
His carton box probably broke from the weight that he was carrying the weight. Post-its colored grey the
the business cards spread like salt
down the women straight lines that a gang of drunken down women walk down.
He is plastic picking up papers, plastic folders
little frantically like a little mouse nibbling
on the last bits of mouse cheese. Faster and faster
as if were a disaster were city about to fall upon the city of London.
There are few only a left-few minutes left.
within carton another two carton boxes He is reinserting his property ,
looks neurotically around neurotically serious.
he is that man or woman ( I wonder if I could never tell) who works late at that looks like a living-room that office that looks like a living-room on the right across my window.
It is half midnight an hour past gone and he is now.
left the pavement on nothing from the schedule fall or the break in his schedule.
His agenda packed tight among the official documents rest the official documents.
It is alright now.
You have picked up all of your pieces.
picking A man is frantically picking up the contents of a box from the night's pavement. He size-zero looks old as if he came out of a size-zero marathon with grey woman slightly long hair wrapped in a little bow making him look like hair an old woman but he is a man.
His carton box probably broke from the weight that he was carrying the weight. Post-its colored grey the
the business cards spread like salt
down the women straight lines that a gang of drunken down women walk down.
He is plastic picking up papers, plastic folders
little frantically like a little mouse nibbling
on the last bits of mouse cheese. Faster and faster
as if were a disaster were city about to fall upon the city of London.
There are few only a left-few minutes left.
within carton another two carton boxes He is reinserting his property ,
looks neurotically around neurotically serious.
he is that man or woman ( I wonder if I could never tell) who works late at that looks like a living-room that office that looks like a living-room on the right across my window.
It is half midnight an hour past gone and he is now.
left the pavement on nothing from the schedule fall or the break in his schedule.
His agenda packed tight among the official documents rest the official documents.
It is alright now.
You have picked up all of your pieces.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Settled NOT
Dear Not,
I fell in love with you ever since I fell out of that cave called womb.
Since then zero has been the favorite number and nil annihilates me every second.
The sunshine settles in April, a month more friendly for London, a month less friendly for those in business.
Dear NOT not,
My whatnot keeps me holding the rails of the underground on the stiff necks of passengers eyelidded dark and heavy down the sound of metal.
I have stepped on you often and then stepped back. Because I could not hate that which makes me lack.
Luck of lack I shall call it my love of not. I was born with you and seasons come and seasons get slit but you and I are here with heat and steam making room for more
negations and more annihilations of that which I am not.
Not me, not you, are you me or am I you? Not?
Play with me, you do, and I shall play you too.
I fell in love with you ever since I fell out of that cave called womb.
Since then zero has been the favorite number and nil annihilates me every second.
The sunshine settles in April, a month more friendly for London, a month less friendly for those in business.
Dear NOT not,
My whatnot keeps me holding the rails of the underground on the stiff necks of passengers eyelidded dark and heavy down the sound of metal.
I have stepped on you often and then stepped back. Because I could not hate that which makes me lack.
Luck of lack I shall call it my love of not. I was born with you and seasons come and seasons get slit but you and I are here with heat and steam making room for more
negations and more annihilations of that which I am not.
Not me, not you, are you me or am I you? Not?
Play with me, you do, and I shall play you too.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Why CANT we rewind?
The weather surely can. I thought it was spring. March is said to be the first month of spring and the sun and the sunshine and the breeze warming through my formally dressed body made me dream of summer.
Not today. The snowstorm caught with London and me. The weather decided to remember and relive those unforgiving moments of wind pushing you at the crossroad to cross when cars have still not stopped.
I have been bought two times the present of a clock. Mostly because it is hard for me to wake up in the morning.
Despite my wealth in clocks I cannot seem to get one to work and the other one to stop.
I wish I could rewind them both to my own beat, the beat of this very word that you are reading now, the beat of how, the beat of not now, the beat of return, the sweet return of the water war in garderns smeeling of cement and uncontrollable children ramaging flowers that have not yet grown.
Not today. The snowstorm caught with London and me. The weather decided to remember and relive those unforgiving moments of wind pushing you at the crossroad to cross when cars have still not stopped.
I have been bought two times the present of a clock. Mostly because it is hard for me to wake up in the morning.
Despite my wealth in clocks I cannot seem to get one to work and the other one to stop.
I wish I could rewind them both to my own beat, the beat of this very word that you are reading now, the beat of how, the beat of not now, the beat of return, the sweet return of the water war in garderns smeeling of cement and uncontrollable children ramaging flowers that have not yet grown.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
STEAM OUTSIDE THE STEAMROOM!
I m going to live forever. I am going to learn how to fly.
Being a fly on the wall and a wallflower has its perks too I have learnt during my absense from the steamroom.
What is the cryptic way of saying THIS?
THIS is the this I have hated, loved, accepted, fought, defied and returned.
THIS hides a death residing in me, in mine, in his and for life.
THIS hopes and now acquired new cells fresh with cleansing tea, yoga, clubbing, dancing, mellowing down the solution pumping out of Greek veins eager to explode into
a bonfire, beat the sky and the sun for being naughty and hiding away from me, stare
up towards forward the blue that I have missed by holding tight onto the underground bars
trembling when the happy mouse of London comes out of under the ground, the sudden breaks of sunshine, of rain burst within an S and the THIS wake up time to work
drain drain me gangsters of London, attempt to laugh, attempt to whisper your spells beside your headset and I will be there for you during your sad,
your happy
your stupid
times.
and now enjoy your spring.
Being a fly on the wall and a wallflower has its perks too I have learnt during my absense from the steamroom.
What is the cryptic way of saying THIS?
THIS is the this I have hated, loved, accepted, fought, defied and returned.
THIS hides a death residing in me, in mine, in his and for life.
THIS hopes and now acquired new cells fresh with cleansing tea, yoga, clubbing, dancing, mellowing down the solution pumping out of Greek veins eager to explode into
a bonfire, beat the sky and the sun for being naughty and hiding away from me, stare
up towards forward the blue that I have missed by holding tight onto the underground bars
trembling when the happy mouse of London comes out of under the ground, the sudden breaks of sunshine, of rain burst within an S and the THIS wake up time to work
drain drain me gangsters of London, attempt to laugh, attempt to whisper your spells beside your headset and I will be there for you during your sad,
your happy
your stupid
times.
and now enjoy your spring.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
heavy snow falls on Charlotte Street
Yes, the time came when I had to call on snow to come and cover that which I would never want to grow. And as snow makes me forgive and forget I walk slowly and cautiously on the icy pavements of Charlotte Street aware that one fall could ruin it all.
The others have slowed down too, the Londoners were taught this morning, as I walk with care, that sometimes one has to walk slow whether one wants it or not.
Here I am, then though melting into the snow, my guardian of time, my guardian of that which cannot be mine.
It is all around us everyday that which the snow covers but we do not just bother to notice, we take it just as something that happens.
Two weeks ago I knew and now I know. I have learnt my lesson well when it comes to heavy snow.
Now is the time to tread lightly and pass the exam of what I call the crisis of my life-show.
The others have slowed down too, the Londoners were taught this morning, as I walk with care, that sometimes one has to walk slow whether one wants it or not.
Here I am, then though melting into the snow, my guardian of time, my guardian of that which cannot be mine.
It is all around us everyday that which the snow covers but we do not just bother to notice, we take it just as something that happens.
Two weeks ago I knew and now I know. I have learnt my lesson well when it comes to heavy snow.
Now is the time to tread lightly and pass the exam of what I call the crisis of my life-show.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
State of mind
Frame this color for me please. I will keep it for later.
But the color may fade away. Yes, but it was once framed for me.
But the color may fade away. Yes, but it was once framed for me.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
done bedsheets
I look at the tidy straight vertical and horizontal paradise. The settings are customized according to my schedule of eyelids.
I dusted my bedsheets and the tears fell off dropped down to the cafe under my window.
An Italian stepped over them and their existence stopped. That existense of the past.
The bottles are in line, the dishes are shiny and bright. The hair is straight, the eyes are brown, the sky is hosting the sun today.
The visitors come and the snow too and when they go snow escorts them
The "life" goes on in certainty of that unsure break to come or not, in certainty of the car stopping at the zebra crossing for me or not.., in certainty of a plan I have not yet made, of a plan I would like to make
but I do not know the words of or the roads.
I am on my way... I will return again and then I will leave too and then again...
I dusted my bedsheets and the tears fell off dropped down to the cafe under my window.
An Italian stepped over them and their existence stopped. That existense of the past.
The bottles are in line, the dishes are shiny and bright. The hair is straight, the eyes are brown, the sky is hosting the sun today.
The visitors come and the snow too and when they go snow escorts them
The "life" goes on in certainty of that unsure break to come or not, in certainty of the car stopping at the zebra crossing for me or not.., in certainty of a plan I have not yet made, of a plan I would like to make
but I do not know the words of or the roads.
I am on my way... I will return again and then I will leave too and then again...
Thursday, December 14, 2006
the moment I lost when the clock skipped
Where did that moment go ?
The hands slide on the bars of the underground and I return with palms imprinted with a stranger's touch. Rinsed the blank ink appears and what was written goes down the drain.
The rising sign wakes up late in the evening against its usual clock-ward round and the scene appears. The "eyes" become codes of lines read but the interpretation becomes a literary controversy. One can, one could, one would, one should change the topic of conversation. The game of neurons begins: the caffeine beats them hyperactive today. Their networking is overflooding the grey matter: indifference.
Goodmorning. Stop thinking. That is your job: do the small talk. Only that shall take lead you to the BIG FISH.
"Θα περάσει αυτή η νύχτα θα περάσει που διαόλια με έχουν πιάσει"
The hands slide on the bars of the underground and I return with palms imprinted with a stranger's touch. Rinsed the blank ink appears and what was written goes down the drain.
The rising sign wakes up late in the evening against its usual clock-ward round and the scene appears. The "eyes" become codes of lines read but the interpretation becomes a literary controversy. One can, one could, one would, one should change the topic of conversation. The game of neurons begins: the caffeine beats them hyperactive today. Their networking is overflooding the grey matter: indifference.
Goodmorning. Stop thinking. That is your job: do the small talk. Only that shall take lead you to the BIG FISH.
"Θα περάσει αυτή η νύχτα θα περάσει που διαόλια με έχουν πιάσει"
Sunday, December 03, 2006
.................................................................................
(The song stays the same, no matter what I do......... to alter its psychic memo. )
One night of white two people came together in a secret mission to whiten up eachother with the frostbite of fresh snow. And the grey road of Coventry became white and the door opened for the four legs to tremble-run outside. At the odd moment one snowball fell on one place and on another more expected look of eyes the cold was shared among the two.
Then their footsteps formed an unknown dance. They run towards the corner of the road forever. They looked further down. Their laughters with tears embraced the cold together echoing the silence of winter, of their own.
Last I heard from them two they never returned to the footsteps they left behind...
One night of white two people came together in a secret mission to whiten up eachother with the frostbite of fresh snow. And the grey road of Coventry became white and the door opened for the four legs to tremble-run outside. At the odd moment one snowball fell on one place and on another more expected look of eyes the cold was shared among the two.
Then their footsteps formed an unknown dance. They run towards the corner of the road forever. They looked further down. Their laughters with tears embraced the cold together echoing the silence of winter, of their own.
Last I heard from them two they never returned to the footsteps they left behind...
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
ex-orb-size
There is one picture every person returns to when they stand naked in front oneself. There is one person every person orbs towards fueled by thoughts the other vibrates and causes an action of vibration on a screen possibly.
This is because this person is your own person and without knowing he is, your past, your present, and your future. He is your present and you are his. This irregular and yet constant reminder comes with random attacks trigerred by no reason other than your need of survival. There is no life without these thoughts and for this reason these thoughts do come. And with the thoughts comes existence. And with existence comes action. And out of action emerges a pattern.
When the size of the pattern grows large the distance between the two people cannot stand itself and explodes the two away or entangles them in one. It is just that just as the simultaneous one after the other vibrations are reciprocated in the same manner the sudden epiphany of the pattern that has been woven has to be realized by both of these two persons.
This is called "to ex-orb-size": to learn to love methodically together.
This is because this person is your own person and without knowing he is, your past, your present, and your future. He is your present and you are his. This irregular and yet constant reminder comes with random attacks trigerred by no reason other than your need of survival. There is no life without these thoughts and for this reason these thoughts do come. And with the thoughts comes existence. And with existence comes action. And out of action emerges a pattern.
When the size of the pattern grows large the distance between the two people cannot stand itself and explodes the two away or entangles them in one. It is just that just as the simultaneous one after the other vibrations are reciprocated in the same manner the sudden epiphany of the pattern that has been woven has to be realized by both of these two persons.
This is called "to ex-orb-size": to learn to love methodically together.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
This de-man-d does not exist.
Leniency in the matter was allowed by both sides I suppose. The woman pretends to asks who is calling, the man pretends he cannot hear from the other side of the line. He calls back once more. He gets to the point. There and then she puts a period on her voice. The lenience dies as she walks nervously down the aisles of the luxury store.
They hang up on the word "kisses".
Sits down. Rages silently.Escapes from the picture she has painted herself in.
There is no way out. There is no way in either.
Because this man does not exist.
They hang up on the word "kisses".
Sits down. Rages silently.Escapes from the picture she has painted herself in.
There is no way out. There is no way in either.
Because this man does not exist.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Where is your head now?
The collage of pictures, despite being double-stuck on the wall with duck-tape, keeps falling sideways pushed by the the little wind-thieves breaking into the keyhole of the door. There she smiles, there is the black and white clown in Barcelona and the blonde girlie playing with a grey kitten. There are the notti del terrore, there is ending a happy new year, there is Cher and Baby Spice, there is Hiroshi Watanabe, there is a note with a human skull on it, there is a man hugging two heads of women, there are two pairs of shoes staring at eachother, there is "God Bless our God" inscribed on a gun, there is the bar with bottles crammed on it, there is many women with their hair entangled with each other, there is Hiroshi Watanabi, there is a sculpture of women embracing one another, there are the notti del terrore, and there is her mother's note four years ago: "Have a good day, a good month, a good year, and good and happy life forever for you".
And there is Louise Bourgeois whispering to the wind-thieves every minute they touch: "I have been to hell and back and let me tell you it was wonderful"!
And there is Louise Bourgeois whispering to the wind-thieves every minute they touch: "I have been to hell and back and let me tell you it was wonderful"!
Sunday, November 12, 2006
to the left...
Dont you think you are irreplaceable... for one second. She thought to herself for himself in her mind.
Once you go down the stream of daze and drown in its ecstasy you acquire a special power. It is called Distancing yourself. You have two selves. One is enjoying being flipped in the air at the dancefloor by the hands of a man who seems to adore you. The adore examines and observes behavior and files in the back of your mind what should be taken care of. And there you go....
How absent can one character be when he or she changes through the influence of a substance? You must have an absent character if you tone it all down the next morning.
Whereas III have not changed, despite the intoxication, my views on how I behave.
The beautiful moment of orgasm arrives when you just know this is so not for me.
"Pull yourself together and get a life man..."addressed to the "un-dressed" man...
"The World is mine". Thanks for offering it to me but I have it already. Plus the expressions of Love and affections I have heard before I know the poem by HEART...
We regret that we will not be accepting any unsolicited mateterial at the present or in the foreseeable future.
Best wishes,
Kaberet's Prophecy
Once you go down the stream of daze and drown in its ecstasy you acquire a special power. It is called Distancing yourself. You have two selves. One is enjoying being flipped in the air at the dancefloor by the hands of a man who seems to adore you. The adore examines and observes behavior and files in the back of your mind what should be taken care of. And there you go....
How absent can one character be when he or she changes through the influence of a substance? You must have an absent character if you tone it all down the next morning.
Whereas III have not changed, despite the intoxication, my views on how I behave.
The beautiful moment of orgasm arrives when you just know this is so not for me.
"Pull yourself together and get a life man..."addressed to the "un-dressed" man...
"The World is mine". Thanks for offering it to me but I have it already. Plus the expressions of Love and affections I have heard before I know the poem by HEART...
We regret that we will not be accepting any unsolicited mateterial at the present or in the foreseeable future.
Best wishes,
Kaberet's Prophecy
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Who is who
This is not usually a political space. But polis is part of where we live, the city. The city of the world. A man is sentensed to hang because he killed 148 people. To stop him another man killed some thousands of the same nationality people. The first is said to be hanged and the other one is hanging over our heads as leader of a great nation.
Some people of this nation come up with such funny lines :Can we watch his head being popped off ?
ooOOOooo please dont cover his face, I want to see "his" fear knowing that he is going to die!
I guess this kinda kills his mood for the 40 virgins eh :)"
I feel shame for the human nation to know that such "humans" exist.
Blood is not retrieved with blood. Because blood cannot be retrieved.
If you want to be shocked go to http://boards.msn.com/MSNBCboards/thread.aspx?ThreadID=117565>1=8717
and read what some 'humans' have written about this.
Just because the freak show is happening far away from us does not mean we have to applaud...
I am appalled.
Some people of this nation come up with such funny lines :Can we watch his head being popped off ?
ooOOOooo please dont cover his face, I want to see "his" fear knowing that he is going to die!
I guess this kinda kills his mood for the 40 virgins eh :)"
I feel shame for the human nation to know that such "humans" exist.
Blood is not retrieved with blood. Because blood cannot be retrieved.
If you want to be shocked go to http://boards.msn.com/MSNBCboards/thread.aspx?ThreadID=117565>1=8717
and read what some 'humans' have written about this.
Just because the freak show is happening far away from us does not mean we have to applaud...
I am appalled.
Who is Who
A pink band wraps round your eyeballs fainting your vision.
So you stop and paint it black to make it more like a heart-attack,
Instead of admitting the wrong choice of colour to bind
The image translated in opposite segments of neurons
Has been constructed by the Holy Spirit and you, who is who
Does not accept the intervention of interrogation
A brain is a brain but when you color it with past interrogation
There will come no feeling thrown up like a heart-attack
When you search for the mysterious potion pinching his vision.
There comes a period of a second of a meeting of neurons
When they come to agree and tell attraction who is who.
He will find in the course between you, the table, that to bind
Means more than oysters pinched with shells to bind
The flesh of what comes in open mouth not in interrogation
Rather in reflection on your own flesh under a heart-attack.
You were drunk, you the white wine, away from your vision.
What is wrong with putting to sleep a couple of neurons
And letting the man opposite you tell you who is who
In the Belgian restaurant where you cannot tell who is who
Because who you have in front of you takes up all your vision.
Cocktails is his suggestion following like a heart-attack
Rendering his approach all the more damaging to the neurons
Of your objective perception therefore you want to bind
Him and you in one capsule avoiding the interrogation
Of any reality check-up on a first date interrogation.
Isn’t it that he is clearer now than then against your vision?
The erupted question tortured your neurons
Ever since his one after the other cancellation like a heart-attack
Unexpected, sudden all the symptoms which bind
Your little breath into a premonition a demon WHO
Whispers like the short-glassed cocktail Who
Is he, where did you hide your ace of interrogation?
What have you learnt about his own vision?
Did you expect to malfunction for long without your neurons?
Do you think that it is so easy to bind
A man who is too young for a heart-attack
To happen. Love is not the interrogation
of one’s neurons, he explains in the game of erotic vision
once you bind, knowing not the reason, the attack on your heart
will tell you I am the one accused of treason.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Cut the cord from left. terre. east. co
So the steps you shall follow are extremely simple. There is a cord on the desired object. You pull it it screams, you cut it it shut it shuts up. It is earth it is the left sign of life it is in the east and it is a brotherhood. My sisters know what I mean. Not every audience has to understand.
Today the desired object was in my mind during a crisis. The crisis included an underground confusion and I was transformed into a mouse-sardine of a tube world. He is always present in the big crowd only you cannot see him. But you must learn to recognize him. He will be your savior. However, he, unlike the elementary cases here in London does not have a cord. He is of Greek make. This make is an older model that cannot be stopped in any particular way. Therefore what can a woman do to save herself?
I leave the answer to him because the inhabitants of this country with Greek make have been turned into an abyss of non-decandence.Mad is not bad but cowards out there you have no hope.. charlie's angels are in the town. you little cords are think blue and white... not made from the old hard sailing rope...
Today the desired object was in my mind during a crisis. The crisis included an underground confusion and I was transformed into a mouse-sardine of a tube world. He is always present in the big crowd only you cannot see him. But you must learn to recognize him. He will be your savior. However, he, unlike the elementary cases here in London does not have a cord. He is of Greek make. This make is an older model that cannot be stopped in any particular way. Therefore what can a woman do to save herself?
I leave the answer to him because the inhabitants of this country with Greek make have been turned into an abyss of non-decandence.Mad is not bad but cowards out there you have no hope.. charlie's angels are in the town. you little cords are think blue and white... not made from the old hard sailing rope...
Saturday, October 28, 2006
beyond the silver moon in a wooden forest pool
I pretend not to wake up in my dream but in reality I wake up in a muffled breath. Someone was there asking : "Where are all of their belonginings?" A slide of fabric awoke me into a nightmare that was not real. Then, she falls into the sweet Morpheus' embrace and lands in a swimming pool in a bikini that keeps untying itself and a black-bearded man appears. She apologises for continuously tying the bikini laces she is shy. She knows this man from her past. He smiles his Marilyn Monroe teeth. She curves into a fetal position in the turquoise water. He asks her:" so have what have you found?" She informs him of her future possible plans but she does not feel she has enough time to explain. Wait. She thinks inside of her. Then he walks into disappearance.
She then walks up wooden bridges under streams of forests, the wood creaks. She is searching for him. But everywhere she goes she finds other friends of his but not him. She runs back to the main area where she met him and suddenly there appear many Italian- architecture windows of apartment buildings which seem to be lit by fog.
Then she goes the opposite way towards the deserted part of a forest. The others appear there too. But he is not there.
He went off somewhere.
She searches for a lighter as she walks with all of them in a line. She wakes up into disappearance.
He and She always communicate in the somewhere. We cannot know if he or she or both know that they do.
She then walks up wooden bridges under streams of forests, the wood creaks. She is searching for him. But everywhere she goes she finds other friends of his but not him. She runs back to the main area where she met him and suddenly there appear many Italian- architecture windows of apartment buildings which seem to be lit by fog.
Then she goes the opposite way towards the deserted part of a forest. The others appear there too. But he is not there.
He went off somewhere.
She searches for a lighter as she walks with all of them in a line. She wakes up into disappearance.
He and She always communicate in the somewhere. We cannot know if he or she or both know that they do.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Lover of the Past
There is suddenly a blast ... ! The bubble once existed but now it just cannot last. The place of your origin has been forever lost and all you are left now is the nothing of the present the something of the future and the much of the past. Then you decide to chant chant to go against the little wave that breaks right at the edge of the pain-threshold but is it this chant produced by the very substance that you torments?
Is the very chant part of the success that is here and that makes you be here and hear the sounds that other passenger just can't? Is it your fault that passengers are idealized and rushed to the stage when their exams have not been passed or forwarded to them at least? The expectation for it to crumble and fall when it is great and majestic must be the haunting secret of your success. Has the demon taken over you and all you can think is how to muse them into your smile amuse them for a little while and then abuse the small signs on their face to make them not last against the enduring threat-thoughts of your past?
If the question mark dears to breathe then the exclamation drowns in the water like a fish born with lungs .. it is not made to breathe as such... and that is what my writing is made of... The great rises and falls of life.. Zoe as called in Greek...
Remember my reader there is always that phenomenon called TiDE.
But the miracle of the place where nothing comes and nothing goes must be something not to be desired for where is the fun or the hygiene... in that?
Is the very chant part of the success that is here and that makes you be here and hear the sounds that other passenger just can't? Is it your fault that passengers are idealized and rushed to the stage when their exams have not been passed or forwarded to them at least? The expectation for it to crumble and fall when it is great and majestic must be the haunting secret of your success. Has the demon taken over you and all you can think is how to muse them into your smile amuse them for a little while and then abuse the small signs on their face to make them not last against the enduring threat-thoughts of your past?
If the question mark dears to breathe then the exclamation drowns in the water like a fish born with lungs .. it is not made to breathe as such... and that is what my writing is made of... The great rises and falls of life.. Zoe as called in Greek...
Remember my reader there is always that phenomenon called TiDE.
But the miracle of the place where nothing comes and nothing goes must be something not to be desired for where is the fun or the hygiene... in that?
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