Thursday, December 27, 2012

Esslingen Weinnachtsmarkt

I cannot speak
For what has been sung may not be spoken
This music in the middle of the Christmas market
A medieval market
A fantasy a re-creation in the middle of supermarkets and shopping malls
this open market stands
under the grey skies
As the music fills the air
it comes alive
A reality of the past
A true experience
This music is alive
it contains the people
and here modernity invades
3 guys and a woman
One of them looks like Wolverine
The other two like characters of Game of thrones
And her...
Tall and blond, dressed heavy guard against the cold
But in her eyes you don't see a travelling gypsy but a proud princess
She dominates the stage
The men seem to complement her...
This experience I want to be
I want to live in the middle ages...
When the men ploughed fields, worked the iron, and bled on the battlefield by the sword
When the women died in childbirth and the children were raised in mud...
The humans where more honest, more sincere
The blood was real
Now all we have
Is my Marlboro in my right pocket and my Samsung smartphone in my left hand recording these moments...
No brand will ever be able to recreate this
Our music is void of humans and our writing void of life
But as long as these outcasts keep playing
I will keep my memories
Of a long lost innocence...

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Red Light District

Μen in the brothels
go in alone
leave alone…
Drinking in a bar
we’re also alone
all so alone

What is that
in your smile
a glint of light

Yet all he cares about
is your body
I want your soul
your daemons
and your mind –
intellect – frontal lobes –
amygdala and hypothalamus

Under an alcohol dazed look
it’s what makes sense when
everything else fails
it’s what keeps me alive
even in the terror of reality

You laugh
I laugh
He laughs
A third one laughs
and I want to kill them all..

Violence hidden under some guise…
Usually that of language…
Kiss me or not
Anyway I’ll be drunk and forgetful
And you will not exist
next morning
but a distant cloudy memory
I went cruising with the boys…

Friday, December 21, 2012

Πέρα απ’ το ουράνιο τόξο
Πέρα απ’ το πολύχρωμο
Αυτή η μουσική είναι μαύρη
την άκουσα να λέει
Κι ίσως να είχε δίκιο
Μα εμένα αυτή η μουσική
βιομηχανικό παράγωγο
ανθρώπων ανίκανων να μιλήσουν
ήταν αναγκαία για να καλύψει
την φασαρία του μυαλού μου
Να στροβιλιστώ στο άπειρο
ως άλλος Δερβίσης
και μετά να σκύψω καιν’
αποκτήσω το φιλί μου…

Μα σ’ εκείνη την κρίσιμη
στιγμή, κι όπως έσκυψα
ένα θέρμος με χτύπησε
ατσάλινη γροθιά
Κι από ‘κει στη σπονδυλική μου στήλη
και μετά στο πρόσωπο

Και βγήκα από τη έκσταση
σταμάτησε απότομα το στροβίλισμα
σαν να ήμουν σε αεροπλάνο
που πατάει φρένα στον αέρα

Κι εκεί σε έχασα
όσο σε παρατηρούσα
να έρχεσαι από το τέλος
του ουράνιου τόξου
Τώρα σε έβλεπα παθητικά
να απομακρύνεσαι
Ίσως και όχι τόσο παθητικά όμως
Το στομάχι μου, ο πόνος, ο θυμός
εγώ που δεν μπορώ να μιλήσω
το χέρι μου που δεν φτάνει
να σε αγγίξει – να σου πει
στάσου περίμενε – γύρνα πίσω
φίλησε με...


Σάμπως εκεί
πάνω στο κόκκινο
όταν συναντηθούμε
απ' την οσμή του αίματος
που στ' άκρα τρέχει των χειλιών

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Love Story

I discovered your handwritten note in the kitchen.
A cute shopping list, written in small, jiggly letters:

                    Barilla No.6
                    Corn flour
                (A small flower drawn next to it)
                    Whipped cream for the chocolate...

                    "...should I write more..."

                    I will pay in kisses!!
                                                            Thank you Chef!

I went to the bathroom and took a shower.
I wiped myself dry with the blue towels you tried on last time,
wipe dry - use as a robe.
I remembered the blue fluff
spread evenly all over your body
like my towel was trying to usurp you...

Then, I sat on the bed,
lying down to relax,
wait for you -
but this mattress -
this mattress -
it's so soft -
this is not our mattress!

I stood up and looked around.
And suddenly it dawned to me
I was in the wrong house!

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Femme Fatale

A spider's web is my love for you.
Like a little fly trapped in my threads,
        unable to move -
                                  every move -
                                                     brings death one step closer.

And I, I am the great big spider.
The Queen, the majestic Black Widow!
I am what I am -
                       I kill my mate after copulation.

I feel so lonely,
                     and then,
You get caught in my web.
How I like to watch you struggle!
And I stay patient yet another day.
When is he going to kill himself?
Moving like a little insect...

And each day I grow closer and closer,
                                                                      laying low,
I decide that you deserve a sweet death.
Then I will consummate our fateful union...