Celestial Connection

Millions of worlds apart

and thousands of words

are missing

between the space

we created for ourselves.

 

We stop conversations,

mute or misuse them,

while the big ice rocks fall apart,

like our lives when we refuse

to listen to ourselves.

 

This world is scary,

full of angry people,

but Earth remembers

and promises to color

our dreams and hopes

with gold dust extracted

from the deep, dark, daunting

place we call space.

 

And right into that moment

we glow furiously;

full of celestial body magic,

we dive back into the blues

and the greens of our reality,

the worlds we build

and the ones we destroy,

conquering one more day

from the eons that await us.

 

Photo: Livraria Lello, Porto, Spring of 2019, Portugal. Minolta Hi-Matic S, Rokkor lens, Kodak Portra, ISO 400, 35mm film.

 

death is everywhere

Death is everywhere,

the faded moon smoothly hides

behind the red-bricked buildings;

it, too, is ashamed.

 

The sky is empty of stars,

they faded,

as did so many souls

covered in ash and dust.

 

The sky turns red

without the flames

or the blames;

it reminds us of the death

we all hide in our hearts.

 

<Do not blame each other, help each other>

Photo taken a long time ago in Kozani, Greece

The Misfits

A simple word is not enough, is not enough, for us who struggle with the world. The exiles, the weirdos, the misfits.

We are one and we are nothing the world cannot explain. We are products of our own insecurities and reflections of the world’s injustices.

We scream in our sleep; we open our windows and stare at the white noise of the world.

Darkness does not scare us. We are the dark and the cold. We have seen the abyss and stared at the void.

Through loneliness we have learned ourselves. We have seen how the ugly transforms.

Through the vanity of hope we have seen light. We twisted and scratched it, we’ve sensed and conquered it.

And now, below the fresh, stark moonlight we surrender our souls to the Arts of tomorrow.

We are the role models everyone fears and secretly admires.

We are the truth told before birth and the lie on the deathbed.

At the end of a dream we are the nightmare, and in nightmares we create dreams.

One word is not enough, is not enough for us to be seen. To be left alone and to surrender.

We give up on the world and draw Art with our tears. We close our windows and forget the void.

We lose and we win, what humanity ignores; to be Art in the light and Poetry in the dark.

 

(Photo: Buffavento castle in Kyrenia mountain range, Northern Cyprus, 2014. Taken with I-phone 4 and edited with VscoCam)