They run down corridors, penetrate
Eardrums, tympanic membranes vibrating
Sounds of whispered ignorantia, injected
In minds, spewed out of unclosing mouths.

Actively engaged in spreading the word,
As meticulous news reporters committed
To divulge, unfounded information, undercover
Agents passing off as martyrs compelled,

To fulfil their duties pretending
To reluctantly execute a social service, yet,
No one knows whether the lady down
The street truly cheated, nor if her daughter

Also slept with the alleged lover, while
The audience is convinced and has convicted
The adultery of the first sentencing the second,
To shame and long-lasting denigrating fame.

The punishment assigned to the free walking
Defendants, found guilty by a jury of their peers,
A public court rising to judge an offence
Sickly existing merely in those insinuating

Voices, inundating the tribunal corridors
Of the neighbourhood, the city, the world,
Tv and the web. Leaving the only words
That count engraved in marble, epitaph

On the tombstone of a suicidal man,

‘In loving memory of Mallory Dupe.
Beloved husband of Helen and loving
Father to Giselle. Shamelessly killed
By rumours. No redemption granted.’

When demos loses kratia
our Greek fathers shake,
their heads in disapproval
unbelieving two millennia,
myriads of wars and corpses
abused, burned, bombed,
imprisoned and enslaved,
did not suffice to effectively mutate,
a thought into a fact.

Establishing governments supposed
to ensure our rights,
cater for the enhancement
of the quality of our lives,
irrespective of gender, ethnicity,
religion, ****** inclinations,
but most of all identity,
personal fundamental beliefs.
The Universal right to think.

Impostors passing off
as modern democracies,
collectively self-labelled
the mighty Western World,
despite more than none are led
by recognised dictators we accept,
as they only harm their own
Nicaragua, Venezuela, Cuba
to mention just a few.

And though as humans
we can merely hope
for unity strive
to accomplish the utopia
respecting demos differences,
no one can condemn
members of society
exerting their right to speak,
express their thoughts and will.

If division is for some,
a plausible solution
it is not for who disagrees
to revoke democracia,
gaol ideas by incarcerating bodies
fundamentals of authoritarianism,
as Madrid calls for European
arrest warrants for perpetrators of ideas
of independence I recall

famous words from the past.
"Ideas are far more powerful than guns.
We would not let our enemies have guns,
why should we let them have ideas?"
Yours faithfully, Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin.

Heavy eyelids struggling to remain
Open, while as quilts they prepare
To shelter drying miotic pupils,
Grand drapes shutting before the stage

Of reality.

A tarnishing moon mists the mind
Attempting to try, to content temperamental
Will, keeper of infantile caprices finding sleep
Deprived of purpose, obstinately fighting

Biological clocks to stay awake, reluctant
To take the risk of missing, a moment,
That special interval of time, when
Everything happens and adults whisper.

Time that could be spent, to see, discover,
Imagine, create, and as I speculate
On all the things I could do instead,
Itchy feet resolve on dragging me to bed.

Lying down resilient still, I scribble
These words until Morpheus demands
Of me to drop my pen, unwilling to wait
A minute more he kidnaps me like gods

In ancient tragedies to realms
Of dreams where everything that doesn’t
Happen here, happens there.
Endless possibilities flying out

Of a whimsical ivory box.

November first, all saints
Celebrated canonised or not.
Recognition left as beauty
In the eye of the beholder.

For sinners accomplishing
Something worthy of holiness,
Something worthy of humanity,
Its nature, the Universe.

Compassion, aidance, honesty.
Truthfulness, chastity intended
In its purest sense. November first,
Olive picking day for me.

Harvesting season's yield
After the longest drought as I feel,
The warmth of an obstinate sun
Pierce skin through bones

To my very core. The same,
Beams granting abundance
Of golden juice to the gently
Reaped pearls of black and green.

From fingertips runs
An inundating sense
Of blessing, intrinsic unity
Of substance shared.

Only anticipating taste,
Fluidity slithering on tongue,
An exquisite elixir caressing
Palate as globules fall like rain

From branches onto
Sheets meticulously laid.
An event unknowing solitude
For it demands collective efforts,

While the distant village band
Plays hymns to the dead I praise
The living and their worth,
Waiting to imagine hundred

Kilograms render seventeen
Precious litres of ******
Olive oil. Chastity unfolding
In its purest form.

Not struggle begot by necessity
beholds omnificence. And talent
alone does not suffice nor keeps
in store efforts of tenacious will.

Resolve is solely grounded in a drive
Inclined to transcendence, beyond
Body and mind to prove
To ourselves we are much more

Than cardiac pumps, cerebral synapses,
While something from within creeps
Tormented as it aspires to reach
Out and higher, emerging from ashes

Of apathy to spill wonders. Curiosity,
Potential, audacity the quest,
For impossible perfection a concept
Inexistent to the Universe,

As blithe omniscient nature need not
Imagination to grasp its own essence,
Gently infusing drops of unfathomable
Consciousness to a creature moulded

To become aware of itself and all that exists.

I know who you are, I lived you, caressed
your involucre, immersed in your depth,
saw the entangled black worms creeping
inside you clogging your arteries, asphyxiating

your organs to insanity, as colourful
butterflies flee from your orbits, escaping
your darkness wetting your eyes, when
you bitterly smile.

I recognise you, your thoughts tarnishing
my mind, understand each one of them as if
they were mine, inhaling what inspires you
grasping the intensity of what’s invisible

to me and so clear to your impeccable
logic, every twist and straight line of your rationality,
all the synapses connecting dots through, nervous
impulses you so eagerly burn in smoke.

I distinguish who and what you hold dear, where
you hide your memories and how you use them,
the books you read and those you pretend
you did, the dread of glasses resting on your nose,

the physical agony your endure each time,
the weather changes, each time you move
to please me, before I fall asleep to the words
of the seven voices within you.

I feel your essence, cherish what delights you,
random pleasures attentive to details while
pupils transpire the shadows of your sorrows,
traveling time to acknowledge their origin,

your traumas and pains, I sense your tragic
nobility. I know why you shout acquainted,
with your biggest enemy, yourself, endangering
your health with drugs and alcohol,

your intelligence torturing you, your emotions
suiciding you.

I know you are unable to help yourself and that I
can’t either, and I now know I have to keep
a distance, for chemical reactions get me
addicted to your worst.

Hold me while I pretend I am
above it all and do not need
intimacy a caress, the warmth
of a body to heal, the cracked skin

of my independency a shield,
defending the fragile creature
now conceding, to let its guard
down just for tonight, to indulge

in breathing, your scent emotional
rescue of what is left, in me
of normality. Drops of inebriating
salted water exciting, my humanity.

Don’t ask of me else, hold me just
a minute more, oblige me to feel
that tantalising heat invade my being,
delirious fever penetrate from within.

Cover me in tremors, confuse
my rationality in the mist of your exhale,
drive me senseless, hold me back if I
instinctively pull away. Conquer me only

ten seconds still.

A concept, a word, poison injected
in worn-out veins, tired of fighting
seeking peace, with weapons on
remote lands disregarded, brainwashed

by spurious terrestrial powers to suggest
indeed there is a reason to continue
colouring flags in red, blood of men sent
at war to protect, rights and honour those

blatantly depriving others of theirs,
secretly eager to quench their greed,
piling up dollar bills closing deals,
giving out coffins, rejoicing for their deeds,

collectively unrecognising freedom is
only to be found in surrender,
to the Universe and its course, fine
tuning our existence to the harmony

of its sublime rhythm elegantly
orchestrated by natural laws, the only
truly ruling, thrusting liberty upon all,
yet too blind to drop the guns

and believe indeed there is much more
to us,
than poison.

Endlessly swirling on myself, from within
and out, as everything else, following
a transcendent flow, ruling
over all that exists, a hierarchy,
I cherish and surrender to, delightedly,
as it always puts me in the right place, in
an immense beguiling Universe, on
a timeline made of infinity.

Lumbago awakened me in tears
of pain and fear of intensifying
acuteness, worsening condition
compelling mind to impose

therapeutical distraction,
persuading fantasy to create
spontaneous cuttings of pictures,
papers, magazines, old national

geographic dreams scopelessly selected
waiting on ideas to sparkle a theme
from coffee, cigarettes and analgesics.
Human evolution standing behind bars,

as I ponder on the meaning not
of the artwork but its making,
for I have no walls to hang
the sticky assemblage and haven’t

had them for a while. Used to clothes
in suitcases, books on other people’s
shelves, memories in shoeboxes,
the essence of my being in a body.

Oh walls! So longed for by humanity
urging to *****, building distance one
brick at the time, compartmentalising
individuals looking for pseudo shelter

under roofs, spurious safety behind
ramparts, four to enclose shame
for their actions, inconsiderate
behaviour of the willingly blind.

Yet what if there weren’t any walls?

People unable to neglect the sorrow
of their neighbours for they’re standing,
just by them, no drawing the curtains
no locking the doors, no closing

the gates. People inhabiting open
landscapes, bonded by necessity to engage
in living together, for unity is strength.
No wonder why our kind is so fragile today.

Consciousness finally puts its foot
down dictating, termination of frivolous
stubborn passions, unilaterally composing
wistful notes of lust, curiosity and fantasy
in broadcasted virtual reality.

Sprang from the enigmatic encounter
of a stranger unknown, fascination swiftly
dressed in seemingly harmless obsession,
longing for ethereal inkless words
deprived of nobility, stripped of their paper

suit and orphaned by a faceless
author. No signature or stamp required,
as they evanescently disappear in the gluttony
web of a careless spider, feeding on them as if
they had no value, reminding me indeed

they have lost their worth, the day
they lost their colour. Consciousness
finally puts its foot down, dictating
termination of frivolous stubborn passions as I
trustingly waited for it to do so.

Keep quite. Listen to the sounds
of unquietable silence, restless air
around you, a million frantic
particles you inhale, heed them as they
penetrate deep inside you.

Follow their course as they enter nasal
cavities to conquer a pass
through your pharynx, caressing
vocal chords, your larynx violins,
gliding to destination through abysses

of trachea plunging, straight into your lungs.
Follow their way back to exhale then focus
beyond. Trail the million frantic particles
their complex parkour as they spread,
within you. Notice the unsilenceable

beat of the mighty ****** pump, tune in
to its rhythm as it releases red
lymph flowing though fragile conduits,
veins, nurturing vital organs, muscles,
bones, flesh. Master the composition

of body fluids playing the sounds
of unquietable silence. Feel
the recurring vibration in your ears
as you swallow, the transparent lubricant
incessantly inundating your mouth.

The bubbly clicks of saliva as it struggles
to prevent your teeth from decaying,
creating enzymes to digest, sustenance
slithering through an open palatine veil
falling down the oesophagus to reach

your stomach. Not in your heart, not in
your brain but there, precisely there
if you concentrate just a little more
will you hear the comeliest voice of all.
It does not speak into your ear, it sings

from within, you perceive it the most
in times of intense happiness or pain, though
it is always there, suave, sublime, divine,
relentlessly murmuring words of wisdom
to the totality of your essence.

The only one who truly loves you, the one
you hear the less, the one trying to tell you,
you are beautiful and perfect as you are.
Jigsaw tabs and pockets of a puzzle portraying
the mesmerising silent mystic figure of a creature,

Whose name is Humanity and frame is the Universe.

I pine for you my dear
as I gaze at the horizon
and beyond in search
of signs of your arrival
I wished imminent yet,
skies these days appear
addicted only to cerulean.

Guilty to long for you
solely in your absence
heated by unfaltering
blistering beams, my
barren soils exhale
the last remains of you
in ascending vapours.

Truth is, deprived of you I,
slowly die, inexorably
thirsty for your essence
endlessly suppliant,
exhausted by the wait
as I watch waters run dry.
Mourning fountains.

Lake levels drop and sailers
linger moored no longer
allowed to navigate shallowness,
disoriented fall drowsiness
felt I had to let you know,
I miss you Mister Rain
and yearn for your return.

Yours faithfully, Missus Earth.

Reverberating peals resonating thunders
in mind, unsilenceable relentless acute chimes
struck, by hollowing gales unwaveringly carrying
echoes of blemished memories through

the storm, attempting to rescue a forgotten past,
made of laughs and outbursts lost in glasses filled
with tears unshed, by misted eyes weeping only
dry, salted grains of unclear thoughts.

Resounding tinkles of scrambled long
distance calls between, consciousness and will,
conversations repeated over and over, one
speaking truth the other, seductive words

enticing logic with lies even reason struggles
to defy. Mayday ripples in high waters, searching
for flickering beacons, guidance to shore, finding
the strength to blow, dark clouds from the horizon,

switch off lightning and behold, the lighthouse
where unyielding sobriety revels.

Touch me, with the tip of your fingers let,
tidal vibrations gently flow from your veins,
through your limbs straight into me. Throb,
pulsate, overwhelm me with your power, invade

my nerves with the notes you compose, oh
so delightfully. Inundate my tangible self
with your essence as palms, ineluctably reach
for more. Caress the skin, make me shiver, enjoy

the tremors of the chords you play, oh so sublimely.
Move closer, embrace me, cover me in
your sentiments, introduce me to them let’s,
listen to the pounding tune of palpitations

and when, my head starts spinning continue,
don’t pull away, excruciate your instrument,
perform your best, make it hard for me
to breathe but hold me, as I groan and lose

my grip, while knees inexorably weaken.

A triangular table built with friends when I
was twenty, carving wood and hammering
nails between statistics lessons, laughter,
ouchs, cigarettes and uncountable glasses

of wine. Dark red rivers misted in smoke,
clouded memories drowned in fumes, as I
watched and encouraged far more than I crafted,
the construction of a project pervaded

with great expectations. A distinctive telltale
air pertaining only, to those beginning life
with a deep gut feeling, suggesting endless
possibilities and naught limits a strength

strictly reserved to youth. Fell in love
with one of the makers, summer affairs in three
months turned, into a family. Dined on triangle
every night until, I graduated and bore

my first child Plato. Moved to the other side
of the city leaving behind, the artefact
in co-builder’s hands and lover’s best pal,
he who impeded prenatal doubts with candlelight

monologues on change and importance until
he too left, for Mexico newlywed, to my old-time
school friend. History intertwined and table given
to another witness of manufacturing days living,

by the Roman lake. A new wave, of dinners
reuniting friends between marketing campaigns,
laughter, feeding bottles and uncountable glasses
of better wine. Table metres away deposited

in the garage as I, conceived my second child,
Eleni on a New Year ’s Eve neglecting
its presence. Splitting up from my lover to bond
a little further, changing house once more

to grow. Moving to France as lake inhabitants
moved to Sweden, kids’ father into their home,
keeping an eye on the rotting triangular table
for two years to fly by and see me return,

harboured by he who never lets me down,
a year to recover from adventures
and deceptions, new friends hardly replacing
those who left, gazing at the table to reminisce,

promising I would bring it back to life as soon
as, yesterday came and so did strength, for me
to retrieve, clean, polish and place the relic in
the centre of family abode, and write this ode.

That feared long avoided kiss infolding
memories of sentiments rebuilt, to acquire
stability evading chances of tears revolving
from the past once more eligible to provoke,
sorrow in the eyes of he who closes them as I
hesitantly surrender to the warmth of his lips.

Enchantingly nonchalantly unfurling before
blind eyes merely able to gape in awe
ephemeral smithereens of expanding plenum,
the abyssal pervasive womb encompassing all

that exists, was is and will be, nurturing
emptiness with energy for nothingness not
to be. Swirling particles coalescing to breed
unfathomable incandescent spheres

radiating blistering lights in waves, hurtling
everywhither as beacons celebrating glory
of omnific productions till mirific explosions
scatter pieces crisping to bond, under laws

of attraction relentlessly spinning, rotating
an elliptic orbit at a distance, showered in eons
by debris enclosing drops of lymph, finely
elegantly tuned through evanescent time, to allow

the esoteric birthing of rare creatures gazing,
curious and inquisitively reflecting, recognising
mother does not contemplate repetition nor
perfection, as she haphazardly reveals inestimable

varieties, offspring of sweeping sublime
creativity with which she munificently shares
a comprehensive consciousness inspired,
suggesting the child indeed could grasp

the extent of infinity
despite blind eyes.

I was born in a city and time where and when
things were described by their name in the name
of realism and truth, uncoloured nouns of honesty
depicting society as it was fearing nothing
while no one took offence, as none was intended

in the atmosphere of autocriticism and self-
deprecating humour. In the countryside village
peasants called my father the Greek, as there were
no aliens other than us and the English man
who lived down the valley. Black skins

only existed on TV, and Africa was far more distant
than maps ever suggested. Our Ghanaian origins
were a mesmerising fable to the curious ears
of those willing to imagine exotic airs, indefinite
populations they had never seen. Italians

were used to migrate abroad in search of dreams,
though no one came to dream in Rome until, they did.
First strange faces appeared for myths to become
realities integrating slowly fast-forwarding thirty years
to see, Filipinos housekeepers, cheaper butlers,

Rumanians and Moldavians caregivers to our elders,
Chinese empires beginning with restaurants and shops,
Selling almost anything one could ever think of affordable
to all, now expanding to own bars creating jobs,
employers of impoverished locals and new arrivals.

Bangladeshis taking over once-was Italian grocery cash
and carries working hard, a 24/7 policy just for some.
Those who don’t are found selling umbrellas on the road
a minute before the storm, or taking polaroid pictures
of tourists at night when the gypsies come out

of nomad camps to sell, unscented roses to lovers
unnaturally blue for the day is reserved, to picking
pockets on public transports everybody knows,
signs are put up for those who don’t. Lebanese
hairdressers hiring young Italian girls, eat in Turkish

kebab fast-foods buying halal ingredients in Iraqi stores.
Only blacks in Rome own nothing but their shoes
and reputation. Those from North African countries often deal
on sidewalks for drug addicts playing instruments
sitting next to dogs on Tiber bridges as they beg

for one more dose. Though Egyptians mainly deal
with chefs, closed in restaurant kitchens learning
pizza-making skills, while Pakistanis make excellent
dishwashers. Turning back to blacks Nigerians,
Senegalese, Malians and many more improvise

themselves as clandestine street vendors
of jewels and fake bags, the latter secretly supplied
by Italian mafia-like wannabes. Often spotted running
away from police, packing goods in white sheets, held
on their backs as they flee, leaving fallen merchandise

behind them. Finally some remain unseen, straight
from heart of darkness and surroundings they stay
strictly on TV, passing from satiric sketches of the past
to NGO adverts crying out, for help against famine,
poverty and sickness, calling for action two euros a day

via sms to keep, consciousness clean, as we close
our eyes not to see, pretend we do not know, hiding
behind words we call, politically correct not to face, take
distance from reality and truth, disguise inconvenience
and uncomfort with ridiculously embellished, jargon.

Some exceptions obviously exist, as many manage
to live outside the box, though alas and do not blame me
for speaking the truth, they remain to date exceptions
dear to my heart, as are all the characters of this portrait,
scattered pieces of humanity, pieces of me.

Two coffee shops, one left one right, ancient
History of modern Rome, post-war families saving
Ethiopian delights, surviving selling beans rebuilding
The Eternal City, bringing back normality by drugging

Insanity. I knew them both since I was a child, holding
My father’s hand while he drank, the elixir and I
Ate my tramezzino looking up at his smile. Contagiously
Spreading the good vibes as he joked, with young

Bartenders sons, of local bar owners serving
Residents. Went to each yesterday, one for cigarettes
The other, for corretto, another way to gulp a drop
Of spirit disguising, in the tiny cup, of a dark mask.

Young tapsters have grown old yet remain, brewing
In solitude, relatives absent some departed.
At the cashier two Chinese ladies discovered, to be
The wives of new owners, foreigners employing

Italians, weird products of migration, for ambitious
Populations conquering integration, as their kids
Go to the same school as mine and locals mock
The change, living in the glory of the past, when

National espresso only charged, seven hundred lire
European currency exchanged, in ninety cents for those
Who don’t know, triple its original price. My bank
Stuck in the middle of the two has also changed

In twenty years, my first account at eighteen
Transformed, me into the witness of many comes
And goes, directors and vice, bankers and services
Evolving to reward, my loyalty with fraud.

Two nights ago it shamelessly stole, fifty euros of me
Claiming, inexistent liabilities on a contract that had none.
Peanuts to unconscious holders, asking explanations
To hear clerks remark, they have no idea and will

Eventually know in ten days time, when the statement
Will sentence the crime, as legal commending me to shut
Up, accept the theft, give thanks. Going tomorrow to grab
A coffee and close, twenty years of history, mine.

My train is changing colours, turning blue seats red,
green and lilac by sapphire stripes separated still.
Only sparing white walls, and graffiti sliding doors,
marvelled upon entrance my eyes welcomed the gift.

A palpable surprise, for me and all passengers within,
overwhelming feeling, grateful for ideas,
coming into life as I chose to seat on emerald,
while other toy with ruby and end up choosing lolite.

Suddenly…

Heard a distant voice, somewhere in my mind,
found myself complaining a part of me I did not like,
about selected colours, come to think of it a little very dead,
defeating happy purpose as I engaged to blame,

whoever had the idea and the choice he made.

There is a peculiar little creature hiding,
on a remote terrestrial planet for the most,
concealed in water in the maze, of a galaxy
far away, orbited by Luna and orbiting Sun.

A dynamic part of space I visited long ago,
where stars form continuously and voids are filled,
with particles giving rise to the right conditions,
for this young naïve creature to exist and evolve.

Unable to see the totality of its body it now believes,
pieces are each an individual, arrogant and incomplete,
searching to fill the voids with substance it does not have,
and may I add forfeited, by megalomania and fear.

Heretic delirium of a species reluctant to face itself.

Trust me when I say I tried, to communicate its nature,
pointing out the pieces, were all part of One.
From my perspective it was clear. I attempted to convince it,
make it ponder on its uniqueness, its uselessness

in division, its completeness in Unity, to show it
its magnificence, its rarity in a Universe immense,
recounting voyages through skies above its head. It did not
believe me, pieces thought I was mocking them.

Renegading from essence, pieces claimed my words,
were ridiculous, offensive, and proceeded making up,
godly interpretations spreading voices they never heard,
to cover mine. Irrationally terrified, of me

and an apocalyptic wrath. I know the pieces knew I spoke
the truth, as all along they felt alone, part of something
greater they refused, to admit they did not comprehend,
thus choosing to contradict, anything that would,

diminish single egos, to the detriment of the oneness
of a body dying, in non-acknowledgement.

The creature has a name and the name is Humanity,
now reduced to shards of consciousness scattered,
throughout a tired globe waiting to recover,
from this sickness called Persona, with a medicine

labelled Evolution.

Fertile precincts of toxic air, colourless
And unstable create, inexistent boundaries
Of oxygen *****, by electrical discharges
Ultraviolet caress. An atom more turns

The unscented scent into a pungent odour,
Pale blue molecules high temperatures detonate
While low ones, solidify in violet black coagula,
Generous enough to retain, for humanity

And wildlife and all beneath, a gaseous form
Up high to shield, the delicate planet hosting
Sparkles of consciousness from its star’s deadly
Compromising radiations, absorbing them to grant

A frail, balance through its presence in stratosphere
We know, as our fragile sheltering ozone layer,
Descending just a little lower to become once more,
Breathable life bearing oxygen penetrating

Our lungs inundating a system, flowing through
Veins where the pale blue molecules spring only,
Every now and then in white blood cells, fighting
Illful intruders ensuring, survival of amazing wonders.

A vision posing as memory intimates it is not
an artefact of fantasy. Reminiscing sensations
I remember the feel, of wetness burdening
my metamorphosing caterpillar me. Transitioning

within a nurturing chrysalis, suspended on the lower
branch of a tree I long crept, a cocoon made of silk
protected my body, storing efforts of the past
to ensure an enchanted future rebirth.

No magician could play such a mesmerising trick,
no reverie could invent such extraordinary dream.
As I emerged from my pupa, crinkled delicate wings,
Upside-down I hung to inflate them pumping blood.

A vision posing as memory intimates it is not
an artefact of fantasy. Reminiscing sensations
I know my eyes were open as I flew,
over endless fields of courteous wildflowers.

Channels I long refused to explore, suspicious
of authenticity prospects, auspicious contacts,
using the web of a poisonous spider, to comply
with society, posting illusions, tweeting whims.

Social circles to flaunt an image, attempting to say
something unheard, as I, unable to scent the body
humours of connecting minds, build a fortress erecting
firewalls of scepticism for a glimpsing human touch,

disguising

in a suit knitted with closeness pretence threads,
between persons separated by oceans, mountains
so high climbers suffocate at their summit, so far
from the ground they are as virtual as this acquaintance.

An encounter with the unknown, for all I know is we both
artfully pen realities to undress the masked and imagine
a nascent bond inspiring these words, out of my mind
and onto the keyboard, just as your words unexpectedly

slithered out of the screen and straight into me.

I look at you often, always have, enticed
and seduced more, than you’ll ever know.
Your sight overwhelmingly sooths me, lifts
my spirits up high, closer to you as I wonder,
where you end and begin, where you meld

stealthily with my being.

Stretching my inadequate body to reach,
unable to touch you I feel, the gentle caress
of your ethereal otherworldly skin, all over,
around and within, me. Enveloping my shape
you suggest, metamorphoses to come

as we blend.

You, unable to utter a word, speak, so loudly
to my deafened ears prevailing vibrations echo,
in the warmth of my veins. Your muteness penetrates
unhindered my listening consciousness compelled
to give in to the richness of your horizon filled,

with promises and potentials.

Recognising my essence in one of a thousand
sceneries you majestically create, making me
feel special, proposing I am unique, till the moment
I believe, keeping the secret all to myself, unwilling
to share, to lose, to acknowledge the truth.

As I grow in your pervasive shadow however
you scold my limitedness, monstrously obliging me
to accept, you are not mine, we are not exclusive
and I alone, am not unique. No reserves to passions
shared, with many more. I look at you and feel so far.

I cannot even reprimand your betrayal, admiring
your mightiness and bounties as you love, protect
and embrace the entire human race, inviting me
to rid of greed, of wanting you all for me, until
I realise, you are me, and together we encompass

the whole of humanity.

It only happens on stormy days,
do not ask of me why, I do not know.
Unknown neighbours have matter to throw
out where it does not belong.

The garbage bins are three hundred
metres away, yet paraphernalia is ridded
beneath the arcade, in front of my window,
at the corner of the opposite block.

An old bamboo rocking chair left
astray, in the rain to drown as I gaze,
imagining what it would look like if only
someone loved and coated it again.

I ran downstairs uncaring of the drops
streaming along my spine, shivers as I
retrieve the creaky relict, giving it shelter
in my humble and humbled abode.

It is now fern green and rocks in silence
proudly on my terrace and under the porch.

Two weeks later, one more storm, another
castaway cobalt blue, worn-out leather
of a stranded armchair, enticing me to engage
in a rescue mission, anew.

Lightning and thunders inhibiting intentions,
I wait and distract only to get to it later,

It was gone.

Following the unfollowed
to follow fellow folks, felons
as I, guilty for spending life
hunting followers who may scent
flourishing fables made of fabric
filled with formidable potential.

Zestfully fleeing mafficking faces
futzing in mass lobotomy, quaffing
media fraudulent sloppiness,
fallacy of a system fearing freedom
of free thinkers unchained,
through fault of failing legacies,

Left behind by phantom slaves
and modern enslavers, as confluxes
of frantic consciousness abandon
the flow to fly high the abysses
of the unfathomable unfazed
by the fuzzy foozles of those defusing,

The fragility and clumsiness of jiffy
flickering governors baffling
enlightenment and solidarity, blocking
the path of the unfollowing where flesh
is bygone for fleeting feelings to enflame
future fundamentals,

Essentially shared,
by an evolving united and mirific
mystifying humankind.

Humankind, roaming tribes,
in search of food and natural
resources to live, procreate,
ensure survival of the species.

As it encounters strangers
to its likes, it fancies the unknown,
mingling, giving birth to new heirs,
original unparalleled half-castes.

**** neanderthalensis and sapiens
the first, of which we still carry four
percent, in the meanders of our DNA
migration heritage, globalisation prelude.

Ever since, many mixtures more
for stronger breeds, offsprings
of diversity, races, cultures, creeds,
to unite what geography divides.

Evolution to allow trade of local
artefacts and products worldwide,
tasting foods and all spices, ideas,
theories, discoveries and creations.

By boat, on trains, aboard planes,
surfing the net, we share existence
daily, acquiring knowledge in due
course flowing into globalisation epilogue.

The rise of an undivided kind,
so entangled to absorb essence
from one another until the day
inexistent individuality makes way,

To a unique and united creature
called Humanity residing in and
an intrinsic part of, an immense
outstanding masterly Universe.

The bold cupola at his summit reflects
neon lights from bulbs above, crowned
by precious thin silver hair, barely cascading
over a wide and wrinkled forehead.

Two dense detached bushy arches linger
to their original dark brown tone, only a few
white brow hairs are longer, magnified by opaque
thick lenses of plastic orange glasses,

resting on a disproportionately big red nose,
outshining round green eyes in venous sclera.
Falling cheeks of sad old dogs, Dumbo ears
hearing only through pale hi-tech gadgets.

Rotten teeth, some lost to empty spaces,
concealed by infolded arid purple lips,
in the midst of an unshaved beard tobacco
stains, where arch crumbs hide in disguise.

A bloated stomach denotes long lasting
faithfulness to a wife married ages before,
a ring castrating a swollen left annular
as he speaks on an archaic phone.

Dressed in an azure shirt meticulously
ironed, beige corduroy trousers, a maroon
jacket on his forearm, a worn out bowler hat
on the counter. I stare at his hunchback.

He stirs his coffee for much longer
than necessary in search of eye contact,
someone physical to talk to, furtively
swallowing a tablet or two gulping water.

Bringing his handkerchief to the mouth to be
proper, he drinks the boiling hot Italian brew,
with an air of surrender as drops inevitably fall
on his nice and shiny polished burgundy shoes.

Pains to remind
privileges of heath.

Hard, calcified teeth
in jaws to bite off
what you can chew
to fuel the body until
shooting throbs carried
by nerves to the brain
make you plead
for tears to conquer relief.  

Skeletons walking miles
held-up straight by spine
to wander earth as pleased
until your movement blocks
bends you in two and makes
you hold your breath at each
imaginary stubbing as you
wait to exhale and recover.

Heart pounding to diffuse
oxygen through veins      
for flow to deliver essentials
to substance until
the day a striking ache
creeps up your left arm
puts an end to all other pains
with its last final beat.

Fences enclose sweaty trees
of palms, apricots and figs,
while dried-up roses suffer
heat, next to stubborn hortensia
striving, to blossom despite
anomalous murderous drought.

An infant baobab travelled
all the way from Dakar to be
planted in a *** in Rome, while
the fragile bonsai changes
place everyday victim,
of my indecision fearing

a premature death.

Parsley, basil, oregano and thyme
On rosemary’s opposite side,
Emanate odours of culinary
Makings, as a lonely herb grows
In a corner, unfolding potential
Of future rewards, paid in smoke.

Aloe and cactuses evergreen
Surrounded, by dead leaves
Stranded, along the hedge covering
Fertile soil suffocating, possibilities
For emerald grass to raise as I mow
The lawn picking them up to set

cadavers free.

Dynamically unveiling an expanding carpet
Of hydrogen particles coalescing to spring
Stars to grow, spin and sparkle, explode
In blinding invisible light, thrusting golden
Debris forming rocky spheres, aligning
To revolve finding balance finely tuning
And allow life to burst and us to see.

When hypnotised eyes only
search for signs in depths of dilated
pupils of he who would be able
to drive you blind;

When courage overtakes you
unafraid and tempted enveloped
by veils of overwhelming heat
craving for inebriated contact;

When all you can think of is his smile,
voice, words, body, and fantasy
imposes his silent presence even
in his roaring absence;

When blistering fire burns
you from inside hindering
breathing panting merely conceiving
his touch on longing skin;

When individuality extinguishes,
ambitions evolving making duty
his happiness afore anything
for his would be yours;

It is impossible to ignore
or deny the devouring feeling
whispering repeatedly to your hungry
stomach ‘You are in love’.

If only I had a brain I would wander
The lands, discover my surroundings,
Emulate nature to my benefit, replicate
The mastery of lightning, sparkle
Fires to keep warm.

Draw in caves to communicate, invent
Words and a language, grasp insight
From imagination, materialize my thoughts.
Become myself a creator, build
A creature to my likeness,

Understand who I am.

As humankind evolves in time
What used to be primitive tribes
Guarding territory, people, progeny
And food, have mutated into
Governments flaunting flags and political
Agendas to fulfil, within four years,
Drafted on greed, implemented
By concocting fear.

Rulers hence redraw, imaginary lines
Based solely on war, and conquest
Fostering survival of the fittest,
The law of the jungle established
In allegedly civilised societies,
Lobotomised by technologies,
PCs and mobiles made of black
Sands, from Congo with love.

Four million people killed by war,
For tantalite to be mined,
Purchased and transformed
In modern gadgets we all own.
Other resources elsewhere up
For bids by unbidding forces,
‘Take what you like and as you please’
The silent motto composing our wellbeing.

Gold, blood diamonds, petrol and water
Conflicts, justifying decades of ******
Worldwide, from Middle East unrest
To Rwandan genocide, passing through
Sudanese Darfur to cross the ocean
Fight for land, tear down forests,
Grow soybeans for vegans,
Pastor sheep for jumpers.

Now modern times have come
New notions are ****** to hypnotise,
Overpopulation for minds to criticise,
Though calculations unable to mystify
Grant eleven thousand square meters
Of inhabitable land per person. Space
Thus not being the issue rather, resources
Are deliberately unevenly distributed.

When twenty percent of the people
In developed nations consume
Eighty-six percent of the world’s goods
Leaving an average of thirty thousand
Humans die of hunger and malnutrition
Daily, there is no morality. When consequently
The remainder, comes knocking for survival
On closed doors, there is no humanity.

When we hide behind phantomatic
Risk-like borders and fake needs,
For two phones a PS4 and three TVs,
As we throw our dinner leftovers
In the garbage and let water
Run warm for 5’ before we shower,
Neglecting collective guilt, responsibility,
Laying fresh sheets on king-size beds,

Turning blind eyes to the news
And deaf ears to the door bell,

How on Earth can anyone sleep?

Until the day we shall all wake up
Notice NASA photos of our planet
Taken from above show no lines
Of separation, and that Earth is
Home to all, in equal measure.

First glance caught by whiteness
Of teeth unfolded by laughter, of he
Who was surrounded, in conversation
With curious people hanging,
On every word of his brightness.

Deflecting my attention I ordered
A Ti’ Punch. As I waited eyes compelled
To return to previous image, focus
Lost, he was gone. When impulsively I began
To search for him frantically, I knew.

Felt his imposing body behind me,
Turned around and recognised myself
In him, as he looked at me as I do,
When the mirror’s eyes reflect
Tenderness and let me know, I am loved.

Dilated pupils immediately desired
My lips to meet his only impeded
By decency, as he commands a ***
Asking me who I am, intending to listen.
I speak in a voice not mine, delicately softer.

His, a thunder, deep and beguiling,
Soothing to my ears, giving rhythm
To my heartbeat. Fascinated
By everything about him, his candour
And politeness, his interest and knowledge.

Sharing feelings for humanity, views
On the world, politics and the news,
Giving insight to discussions, offering
Different perspectives, enriching me
By the minute, as I absorb his essence.

He saw right through me, uncondemning
My compassion, undismissing my emotions,
Respectfully regarding me his equal,
Aspiring to be a little more like me, as I
Aspire to be a little more like him.

Closed the bar together, walked
The night streets laughing, in his bed
At dawn the light beams shining,
Heated bodies, in his arms enveloped
Ever since, my voice delicately softer.

When the lonely nutshell decided to blow,
Out of itself malleable creative energy
For space to unfold into endless expansion
Begin the infinite story of a new-born Universe,
It did not cater for symmetry, nor for perfection.

Sparkles and outbursts differentiating
Populations of particles never equal in quantity,
Matter naturally outnumbering antimatter
For something to exist. Blessed imperfection
Consenting the collection of dust, to form bodies.

Celestial. In stars nuclear fusions transform
Hydrogen in new elements, generating oxygen,
Helium, carbon and many more. Attracting
Neighbours to rotate and orbit around them,
Planets courting a light-giving queen, for life to spring.

Settling dominating forces to unify and divide,
Gravity and dark energy for the first to keep
Things together, for the latter to impede
Collisions and implosions. Dynamic evolution
Heading towards unprecedented, stabilisation.

The great scientist determines imperfection
Is what allows you and me, to be. Yet
When finally the nutshell reaches maximum
Entropy, impeccable thermodynamic equilibrium
The game ends. In a Big Freeze.

Where all dies, including stars,
You and me, as it unwillingly attains
Balance and stagnation, motionless
Bodies unable to exchange, heat.
Ceasing existence, in murdering perfection.

Intangible perception of reflecting light,
Electromagnetic radiation stimulating
Mammalian photoreceptors, six million
Cone cells densely packed, in a point three
Millimetres area known, as the fovea centralis
Residing at the core, of colour-grasping retinas.

Red, green and blue, bases of interpretation,
As all others can be matched with a combination
Of the three, for trichromats to see, distinguish
Energy of wavelengths to believe in deception,
Think that colours do exist, a gift of pigments
Inherited from early vertebrates, while fish

And birds may see Ultraviolets, as they are given
An extra one. Classification in categories,
Yellow, orange, purple, indigo and many more,
Associated with objects through wavelengths
Of light reflecting from them depending on physical
Properties deciding, whether to reflect specularly,

Scatter or absorb. Objects thus have the colour
Of the light leaving their surface, while rainbows
Continue to enchant exquisitely, the eye of the
Beholder struggling, to understand the physics
Of such bewildering apparition. Waiting for evolution
To give it a few pigments more, for it to see beyond.

Icy clusters of rocks and dust, leftovers
Of extra matter scattered around a star.
Following the orbit guiding a perpetual run,
For seeing creatures to gaze at midnight skies
In search of glistening shooting lights.

Comets, so named by the ancient man,
Enchant humans to strive and understand,
Beholding their subliming approach to the Sun,
Where radiations and winds melt solids to sparkle
Spews of gas. An aura, a coma and a tail.

Nebulosity inclosing the nucleus confers
On the object a misty glow, distinguishing it
Form a star, hiding water in volatile form.
Tails extending to astronomical units lose
Trails of debris at times, visible to the naked eye.

When finally orbital highways cross,
Meteor showers arise. Debris igniting
As falling stars, enter the atmosphere.
Perseids in August begot by Swift-Tuttle
Comet, Orionids in October by Halley's.

Games of splendour to remind us where
We come from and how it all began.
When antediluvian comets did not shy away
From colliding unswervingly with Earth,
Reach its crust. Inundating the planet with H2O,

For us to be here, witness the show.

In a Universe fourteen billion years old, a galaxy
Amongst two trillion others moves, through space
At two point one kilometres per hour, pulled
By a gravitational focal point once named, the Great
Attractor and now known, to be grander than supposed.

At the edge of it a star out of many more, collects
Planets to follow its orbit around its core. Amid them,
A terrestrial one ten billion years younger sets,
The grounds for life to spring where evolution’s course
Gives birth to an extraordinary creature like none before.

Destined to mature a mind capable of questioning,
Understanding and develop a thought, budding
Into a creator itself of concepts built by imagination.
Its first ancestor two million years old, its father
Two hundred and fifty thousand, make modern

Human, **** sapiens, a baby on the timeline
Of cosmic history, playing with toys it has constructed,
To learn only subsequently how to use them. Retracing
Steps back to present, to look at humanity with indulgence,
Through the loving eyes of parents, who never turn them

Blind. Reprimanding its mistakes and disasters,
We are all guilty as charged, with the sole ambition
Of channelling its consciousness for it to bloom,
Fulfil its potential, as it acknowledges its blunders
And corrects direction.

Sure some may view the world as grotesque, with
“Chronic adversity and whimsical exuberance”, witnessing
“Savage wars, apocalyptic climate change, plastic ocean
Pollution, nuclear weapon proliferation, overpopulation,
Immigrant crises, everlasting animal cruelty” and more.

Though if denial of it all would be an insult to intelligence,
Failing to see the kid’s good deeds would be a slight,
To humanity and the Universe deciding to give it life.
The toddler is learning to walk, creating meaningful
Relationships, discerning right from wrong. Voluntarily

Willing to make amend, unfollow blindly rulers’ greed
For conquest, power and neglect, desperately seeking
To separate its waste, hoping for recycling to help,
Clean dirtied waters, soils and air, boycotting businesses
Linked, to weapon industries to cease, being a murderer.

Harbouring fellow humans trapped, in critical situations
We are all responsible for, turning towards vegetation
To feed itself and newcomers, burning furs, pouring
Water on fires, while elephants thank us for not stealing,
Their tusks to make ivory jewels and piano keynotes.

So my dear friend rest assure, humankind will continue
To evolve. In the process indeed it will find a way
To live in harmony with its equals and its world,
Until the day, like any other species before it, it will
Go extinct to be replaced, by something different.

For nature also implements its endless creativity,
Next invention of which, we might as well be,
Primitive ancestors.

Fastidious noises, thoughtless behaviours,
Far from consciousness, lack of education
Or merely of attention, while hands pick
Food plunging in serving bowls to stuff
The mouth so plenty it barely closes.

Licking fingers, displaying stained teeth,
Chewing forcefully, yearning for oxygen
Between an uttered word and a mumbled
One. Fostering boorishness masquerading
As liberty, as if politeness is currently outdated.

Reducing the annoyed to an uptight unable
To enjoy freedom, where mannerism is a cell,
As I courteously turn the other way and refrain
From speaking my true mind, not to offend,
As I have been brought up to be considerate,

And swallow.

Improvising, accepting, closing eyes, my smiles
Unbeseeched for each awakening deserves its own,
Spontaneous distortion of expression suggesting
Fondness in being me, a human amongst others,
Permanently contradicting prospects of random sadness.

On occasion ineluctably dejected, as now,
On a plane fed, duty-free shopping done. Miniature
Liqueur bottles reminding me the depressing nature
Of alcohol eliciting my present gloom, submitting
To its essence, without the shadow of a fight.

Experience gave some the opportunity to declare
Me mentally unstable, talks of chemical imbalance
As tears roll down my eyes, salty taste on my lips,
Drops of ocean when even rain is sweeter than me.
Though familiar, grief has altered its character.

Uncalling for despair nor asking me to change,
This sorrow rises from the ashes of evolution, as I
Pretend not to see while nothing passes unremarked.
My eyes recognise the futility of their bogus openness,
While blindness is unable to encourage willed ignorance.

Consciousness alone compels to absorb the scenery
For scenarios retinas refuse to grasp, neglecting mind’s
Solitary drive, to live withstanding all and comprehend,
Embracing realities encompassing humankind, so that I
Have no excuse and remain obliged, to see.

Red varnished nails, exuberant shades,
Light sparks mutating fingers and toes,
Permeating space, to turn suffocating heat
Into perky summer air, shaping muted light
Into bliss catalysts, stranding paleness
Of the past, in escaping mist.

As I travel through soft white vapours
Gazing beyond aboard flying vessels,
Wheels and wings provided unable
To navigate distant oceans beneath
I wonder, if only Leo could see.

If only he could see the lands from above
Checking though cartographies for accuracy,
See the different shades of water, sandy traces
Delineating margins, contemplate the jungles,
Deserts, mountain summits valley lakes.

If only he could see enveloping clouds,
Hear the roars of propulsion-hunting engines,
Feel his mass be pulled by gravity, his body
Grow heavy as speed increases, light at take-off
Weightless in cruising. Rise higher than birds

Prove there are no limits.

If only Leo could see the colossal planes
Suspend in air, wink at Mona Lisa and tell
Unbelieving acquaintances he was right,
It did not call for a genius to conceive,
Humanity’s talent and capability to fly.

We have been taught we’ll grow
Up to love one. The One and only who
Will matter and complement our life,
Bringing meaning to existence, shining light.

Legends, tales, novels, songs,
Cinematography depicting idyllic love,
Affairs where one should rather die
Than live without, pouring responsibilities

Based on expectations.

Words of treason for loving and loved ones,
To comply with monogamous society designed,
To rule and keep control of tormented masses
Reaching for the fable in frustrated non-fulfilment.

It wasn’t always so.

Love did not equate to possession, naturally.
Parents and children did not belong, to each other.
New-borns were raised by communities, broods
Were for all to take care of and of none.

No one owned any one.

Love as an innate instinctive feeling, permeated
Lands and beyond as Universal. Love for humanity,
Its abode, the Universe in all its glory and potential.
Loving every bit of it, as each piece composes the All.

So, in answer to your prayers, my dear One,
On the ethics of love and to keep it alive,
Allow me to gently whisper to your ear my pride,

“Love All and indeed it will last forever,
Limit your love to One, and you will slowly fall,
In a puzzling abyss of anguish you’ll hardly comprehend,
A prison of expectations, quarrels and grief as none

Of the two making one, can ever fulfil
The insatiable void rooted in failure

Of loving All.

Thus embrace humanity, my precious One,
Love each and every one as if they were the only One.
Do not require from them, don’t even ask,
Just give them all you have and expect nothing

In return.

Stand assure my beloved, the Universe will requite,
Pouring love on you so intense, no One
Could ever Do but All. Bringing peace to existence,
As every drop fills the Ocean.”

Infinity in motion.

The singular marble of energy, infinitely dense,
Elected to expand towards inexistent directions,
Creating space to unfold volatile carpets of navy
Blue time, on which to develop endless potential.

Light ignites for particles to amalgamate reflections,
Evolving energy into matter, for atoms to compose
Spinning molecules assembled, filled with purpose
Pulled by force, of gravity building fusing stars.

Refractory minerals travel unnoticed and afar,
Leaving home to shower dust on spheres aligned
Orbiting a sun, where ingredients perfectly meld
Hosting falling comets and chondrites, water in disguise.

Suddenly life.

As the marble now exceeds measurement possibilities,
Perpetrating its expansion, outdoing light speed limits,
It decides to visit itself and its creations through the eyes
Of a species with a mind. Consciousness rise.

From a remote planet lost in its meanders,
Inhabitants of Earth slowly challenge their perceptions,
Reflecting shadows of primitive light to comprehend
Their role in the marble game encompassing all.

Suddenly the Universe.

Mr White carried out the crime, it must be so.
Police caught him cleaning blood off his lips and though
He said it came from a last desperate kiss, anchormen
Disagree. TV knows the truth, has given him a life sentence,
Public opinion bets on his guilt, odds are now six to one.

Only he could have free access to the family abode,
Approach Mrs White so close. She must have trusted him
And ignored, he had lost faith in her when he saw, her flaws,
In the arms of an unknown improbable lover, to both
The handsome tennis coach.

He must have premeditated the vengeful actions,
Bought the rope at the grocery store, be it with her
Credit card. He must have obliged her to write the note,
It would explain the shaky scribble she left behind. He must have
Handled the neck loop with gloves, no killer DNA found.

The house is full of his fingerprints, yet it’s his own,
But none on the rope. His tears must be fake, his fright,
Cowardice. Mr White carried out the crime, it must be so.
He must have staged the whole suicidal show, he must
Be guilty, it must be so, prosecution says so.

But do we really know, beyond any reasonable doubt?
What if she had lost faith in him when she saw, his flaws,
In the arms of an unknown improbable lover to both,
The handsome tennis coach? Bought the rope with her own
Credit card, placed the loop around her neck and hung?

Within walls and filaments I spin, rushing
Towards infinity in expanding space.
Through memories of eternal time I mutate,
To witness evolution provide fertile grounds,

For consciousness to rise from mesmeric worlds,
Permeated with indisputable truths, abiding elegant laws,
Concealing particles able to twist
Energy into matter, create creatures with a mind,

For the Universe to become,
Inexorably and increasingly, aware of itself.

Rampant raging waters clashed,
Breaking waves on rocks supporting
The withstanding lighthouse stage
To its keeper’s disappearance.

Swallowed
By the inclement ocean wetting
Brittany and its last vessel guiding
Beacon.