What marvellous creatures those biped ants,
Inhabiting the terrestrial little dust sphere, third from its star.
A naturally social animal “living in a complex social colony,
with one or more breeding queens.”

What organised creatures those biped ants,
Arranging themselves in a hierarchical manner, to follow
Rules and be protected by their chief, whose interest is
The survival, wellbeing and self-enhancement of all.

What ingenious creatures those biped ants,
Drawing, inventing and building that which their mind can imagine,
Creating words out of nothing to tell each other stories,
Hand their wisdom over and down to their heir.

What intelligent creatures those biped ants,
Engaging and toying with thoughts and questions
To find answers to sentiments they spontaneously recognise,
Driven by curiosity to understand their potential and universe.

What extraordinary creatures those biped ants,
Capable of love and caring, so unusual and rare on other planets,
Believing in strength and justice, freedom and equality,
Marching for their rights and for them be willing to give up their lives.

What fragile creatures those biped ants,
So vulnerable to greed, arrogance, fear and complex,
Self-commiseration and self-loathing, punishing themselves
With self-destruction.

What paradoxical creatures those biped ants,
Dividing in colours, red or blue, black or white,
Unwilling to acknowledge that any idea is a good idea
If in the best interest of humanity as a whole and its home,

Regardless of who gives birth to it and casts the seed,
For it to grow.

Trembling he entered the bar with a cheerful smile,
In a dark green suit and a Panama hat.
Sun-dried wrinkles on his face and hands
Dotted with brown liver spots, passage of time.

Buttons of his white shirt open to the trunk,
Roman summer at last, a little too scorching for some.
Cherry angiomas glittery red,
Dilated blood vessels showing off his chest.

New freckles he never had and not to be
Confused with his only solitary mole,
Stuck on his lower bluish chapped lip
As he shivers struggling to raise his coffee cup,
To the mouth with both hands for just one sip.

In silence he dribbles and drools succeeding to gulp
Down the last drop, asking for the check
In a broken deep voice, one that has smoked a cigarette
Too many, scratching his drinker’s nose as he wobbles
To the cashier.

Paid and ready to proceed his wallet refuses to fit
Back into his rear pocket.
The frustrating challenge a matter of patience,
To which he inevitably renounces as he surrenders to hold
On to it while he waves his goodbyes to the bartender.

And yet she moves, silently,
spinning and swirling endlessly
revolving, around a rousing star,
elegant ballet stealing radiance

indulging in warmth, in glacial
space unfathomable sphere
of incandescence, fluid rubicund
lava leisurely turning into blue

water, mystifying evolution
randomly combining hydrogen
and oxygen elements to unfold,
a liquid carpet englobing

all, to the mercy of a pale
faced moon, meticulously keeping
a distance so perfect and rare
to bear, mutating molecules

spontaneously deciding to form
cells, eager to evolve slowly
birthing life in its depths, breathing
to ensure, generous exchange

a fair give and take, a cycle where
harmonic balance is
the orchestrated oeuvre
of an omnificent composer

inventing notes of gravity,
creating abstruse species
out of fantasy, only to craft
itself a witness, capable

of understanding the amazing
wonders it ceaselessly unfurls.

For too long they believed
You were static, finite
In time and space,
An inanimate background
To existence, a black canvas
Dotted with stars, awkwardly
Evolving around us.

Forever will I be in ecstasy
Before you, your might
And dynamic motions,
So perfectly tuned as to provide
Humankind with life.

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.

Unfold the map of the world and trace
a kaleidoscopic boot-shaped country
rising from the waters lavished by Atlantic
in a multicultural basin at the heart

of a flat globe. The Mediterranean birthed
by the Zanclean deluge, witness of myriad
exoduses intertwining genes to encompass
peninsular cradles of early civilisations,

a medley of ethnicities trading goods
discoveries and ideas on sailing caravels.

Two thousand years later the remnants of
the Roman Empire vote, the democracy
they had co-founded two thousand years
before, on philosophies of justice, equality

and human rights. Power to the people,
lost in the process of history making,
populaces disillusioned and frustrated
at millenary successions of failed rulings

corroborated by corruption and personal
greed of those chosen to represent them.

Today Italians vote anti-establishment
thereby at long last rejecting ideologies
of the past, too old to bare credibility
electing a party set outside the box,

no left right nor centre, victory of populism,
communism and capitalism burned
at stake for their crippling sins albeit
international cold-war renaissance attempts.

Marking the end of the twentieth century
the twenty-first bets on the refreshing breezes
of new tantalising illusions, cuts to public debt,
income of citizenship, youth employment,

tax reductions campaigned to allegedly increase
family spending, for whatever we do we are
all bound by a unique reigning doctrine under
the unified global empire, of consumerism.

Neutrons, protons and electrons compose
The entirety of atoms pervading The All,
Forming bewildering matter, objects and substances,
Ranging from dust to stars, planets, galaxies,
Superclusters, organisms, oxygen and water,
Living creatures.

Neutrons and protons in turn made of quarks,
Elementary particles, indivisible, positively charged.
Deprived of a structure of their own they strongly interact,
To create one and many zillion more.

Never alone always bound
In twos and threes, sparkling composites,
Hadrons at the heart of atomic nuclei.
Quarks making us.

While electrons, together with muons and taus
Only heavier but identical, are leptons,
The most common elementary particles in our world
Offer atoms their chemical properties.

Negatively charged, indivisible, smaller there are none.
Deprived of a structure of their own they weakly interact,
Frantically moving subject to electromagnetic fields.
Leptons making us.

Quarks and Leptons in conclusion
Minuscule nature of our essence shared
With that of all that exists. No wonder,
Everything in dualism persists.

Seeking harmonic balance and elegance,
A cosmos of particles interacting in countless manners
To materialise the entirety of energy in the Universe,
Shaping it with imagination and creativity.

As stars make gold, pressurised carbon diamonds,
Thirty trillion cells a human being, a human being a thought.

Though some believed that just as beauty
Space was in the eye of the beholder,
An abstract justification for human experience
Of matter and its motion,

An ancient thinker, by history called the Great,
Asserted with conviction, it simply did not exist.
Nothing was not a concept of nature
Abhorring vacuum, and all agreed.

As nothing came from nothing,
Nothing couldn’t be. Empty space
Out of consciousness’ reach.

Deprived of objects it had no purpose,
For what would its purpose be
If not that of being a place
To contain all that exists?

The mind puzzling game concocted
If space could exist independently of matter
Matter could not exist independently of space,
For where would it be?

So came another thinker questioning
‘Is space something rather than nothing?’
As indeed deprived of the object, undeniably
The place de facto would still exist.

Time passing by replaced thinkers with scientists,
Defining its nature for it to be infinite and absolute,
Existing independently of objects and the mind of the observer,
Observing its balancing force, counteracting that of gravity,

To keep things apart. Dark energy, Energy of space.

Now searching for particles to fill in the voids
To justify the dynamic and expanding quality
Of a Universe which might as well
Be a plenum.

Retracing back the steps to initial perceptions
Of inexistent space for a Cosmos filled
With fundamental particles elegantly orchestrating
The motion of all that ever was, is and will be.

All that exists, a plenum of energy.

In darkness the absence of light sparkles
Man’s reflection on notions of nothingness.
Empty space ultimately devoided of purpose
As space unhosting objects loses function.

Empty minds deprived of thoughts and imagination,
Unable of creation. Empty bodies ceasing to pump
Blood where it belongs, for hearts to beat, life to be.
Psychopomps allegedly escorting vestiges beyond.

Yet in nothing eyes can witness is there Nothing,
Always Something invading sight with blinding colours.
Beyond sight, perceptions of power, particles in motion,
Detecting forces playing games to challenge the reflection.

In space, in mind, in body, emptiness does not exist.

Come with me, I’ll show you where
The wonders sparkle beguiling blessings
Arousing perceptions of gratitude innate
To heedless humans in lack of deceptions.

Irrefutable eternal verities unfolding
Elegantly before disallowing eyes
On the expanding canvas made of space
Moulding elements of plasmatic grace.

Wind back the hands of time with me to witness
The emergence of the first and most abundant substance,
Hydrogen out of recombination epoch
Finely orchestrated by physical laws to form and fuse in stars.

Stellar nucleosynthesis where nuclear reactions
Are boons in disguise for new combinations
To bear lithium, carbon, neon, oxygen, iron,
The entirety of the essentials on the periodic table.

Indulge with me in the mesmerising marvel
Of watching those incandescent stars go supernova,
Their shock wave thrusting silver and golden nuggets
Throughout infinity creating planets.

Now return to Earth with me and look around,
At the stars’ debris under your feet, feel the ground.
Take this glass of water, a cocktail of hydrogen
And oxygen, breath in! Gaze at all that exists.

Stare at yourself, made of trillions of cells,
Nourish the awareness that you are part
Of the bewildering opus yearning for you
To live your life and honour with consciousness

The wonders sparkling beguiling blessings.

Grazin’ in the grass was mellow indeed
when you blew into your trumpet
blaring sounds of peace. What a trip!
Just watchin' as the world goes past,

you used to say playing notes of jazz.
Music of resistance for a tortured land
imbued in the blood of its natives bashed,
by the impudent high-handed little white man.

As your grandmother cared for you and miners
in illegal bars, piano keys enticed dreams of hope
for second class citizens silenced by oppression,
while the chaplain gave you your first instrument.

Little did you know the melodies you’d pour
on the rampant fires of blatant injustice.
Little did you know the strength you would instil
embodying possibilities, shedding light on the obscure.

Soweto blues you composed as Miriam gave
her voice to screaming mothers to cry out,
atrocities in town. Bring Him Back Home
you sang from afar until they did, and you

returned to see the prisoner walk free,
down the streets hand in hand with Winnie.
Only afterwards I heard your words and will
to show the people just how

wonderful and excellent they are.
A message I cherish and the reason why
many will remember you, your tune your smile,
as he who kept the torch of freedom alive.

A baobab tree has fallen indeed.

Each pace forward moved the summit further
As I climbed my Everest, twenty-nine thousand and six
Footsteps in the past, twenty-two more to go,
When suddenly the mount, the goddess,
Mother of the Universe, smiled at me from above.

Her grace was gentle though her presence alone
Felt like a menace. I knew I carried within me
All the ignominy of human being. An offense to her essence,
Physics and doing, ‘How dare I be there, scramble over
And trample her only to prove to my Self I could?

Fear suggested my surrender, retrace my steps
Back to humbleness, place my Self where it belonged.
Yet I froze and could not move, immensity had got the best
Of me, making me believe that I was too little of a creature
To attempt being greater than what I was.

The paralysing nature of such ludicrous belief had me
Hanging from a root seeking to survive despite it.
The goddess continued to smile at me from above, unwilling
To help, I thought. And as I was losing my grip, conquered by fatigue,
She spoke: ‘If you trust in me, let go!’ and so I did.

When Archimedes jumped out of his bathtub
Shouting ‘Eureka’ naked down the streets,
He had finally found a way to uncover
The deceit on behalf of His Majesty’s goldsmith.

Had he stolen gold replacing it with silver
While carving the divine wreath commissioned by the Tyrant?
The Golden Crown of Syracuse to be placed on the head
Of a goddess to be tested without being disturbed.

It all began with overflow as he dipped his body in water.
It was evident and easy to observe
That some objects floated while others sank,
Occupying more or less, tri-dimensional space.

Fluids rejecting or enveloping the intruder,
Displaced proportionally to the latter’s
Volume, density and mass, led to the revolutionary
Discovery of buoyancy, sparkling new beginnings.

The understanding suggested, that if an object displaced
An amount of water heavier than its weight, it would float.
The opposite being true, an object displacing
An amount of water lighter than its weight, would sink.

Fluid’s volition to reclaim its legitimate space.

Although the system was unable to assess the fraud,
As shape came into account and a kilo of solid gold
Was smaller than the kilo of golden wrath,
Dipped into water discrepancy ignored the math.

Unpredictably, the genius found higher purposes,
Buoyancy to determine whether a steel ship would sink
Or float, make it through the Mediterranean and beyond,
Where the Pillars of Hercules warn sailors to go no further.

Non plus ultra to the realms of the unknown.

The understanding suggesting that if an object displaced
An amount of water heavier than its weight, it would float,
Bigger volumes, lower densities, empty hulls and ballasts,
Succeeded in opening the gates to new oceans and new worlds.

Buoyancy to explain why our bodies float at sea
Apparently rejected by expelling waters claiming back their territory.

Gases being fluids, air acts the same,
With the extraordinary result that a kilo of feathers
Is indeed lighter that a kilo of lead.
By 0,9 grams.

You were born in the mist
Of a worldwide ****** war,
Shielded in the town of Oxford
No one would have known,

Who came to light
On a random winter’s day,
And would have studied darkness
To humanity’s bewilderment

And science dismay.

Who could have envisaged
A modest run-of-the-mill boy,
Having troubles reading would pass
From studying clocks and radios

To figure how they work,
To later toy with physics
Identify the laws,
Of a universe beginning

With a silent bang.

A singularity unfolding
Ever-expanding space,
Projecting multiverse odds
Stretching theories of strings,

To unfathomable infinity
Countless possibilities.

I fell upon you by hazard
Listening to your alas robotic voice,
Notions of evanescence and chaos
Information lost forevermore,

In deep mystifying black holes
Only to reach the end,
Of an article explaining
The genius you were recognised

Even when you were wrong.

Sustaining a verity
You humbly would recant,
Thirty years later tell the world
Indeed energy survives and is returned,

To cosmos under a radiation
They now call by your name,
For there are no “eternal prisons”
Not in space nor in your wheelchair.

Your alacrity showed humanity so
By flying in a zero gravity zone,
Defying the physics constraining your body
An endless fervent hope, I dare

Share with you. For one day
To travel space and understand
A theory encompassing all,
Started studying cosmology

All because of you.

I have known her forever even when
others didn’t and did not care, to get
acquainted with a toddler for kids are
to listen and learn not to teach and tell,

neglecting to see the kindness, empathy
naturally flowing from inside. Innate qualities
of humans I thought to myself as she kept
rising doubts and queries to herself.

I have always loved her even when
others might have thought I did not know
how to. From the moment she became aware
of herself each time she looked deeply into,

the abysses of her big brown pupils reflected
by bathroom mirrors on window glasses
in calm water streams englobing an entire,
vision of a paradisiac Universe bursting within.

I have had jealous feelings for her when
enveloped in the loving eyes of parents
family friends and teachers, everyone
adored her, the way she made them feel,

the joy she brought the smiles she showered,
the respect she showed as she listened engaged
in heeding others, grasp meanings wisdoms
lessons from the elder, sitting beside them.

I always admired her even when
others thought she could not make yet
any sense. From the moment she became
aware of others each time she smiled

or cried wondering why, rejoicing for shared
occasions when adults also laughed flaunting
possibilities of happiness, despairing for harms
done unable to answer the simplest question.

I have always protected her more so when
others believed I was only trying
to **** her. From the moment she became
aware of injustice discrepancies cruelty,

poverty illness wrongdoings, warmongering
cycles of greed and vengeance, ‘life’s not fair’
repeated the adults dismissing, her ordeal
and disdain for what she could not turn blind eyes to.

I increasingly thought she was too
beautiful and pure to risk being affected,
corrupted in growth to become
mediocrely adjusted, following paths

of others. Until she grew and investigated
the Universe, understanding that life goes far
beyond Earth’s binding gravity, and that indeed
there is much more to all, changing perspectives.

I breathe her daily and now see how
small and fragile people are, within a Universe
so expanse, learning to appreciate them all,
recognising their might as a species developing

something even science cannot explain.
That crazy little thing called Love probably
the greatest thing of all, what makes our race
so special, worthy of compassion in hope of liberation.

I inhale her every thought and consideration
admire her ability to love humanity
as a whole, realising others are not
our hell after all, and that together

paying attention to imperceptible details
we can all evolve, into what we truly are
the best of ourselves in this wondrous
astounding Universe. She is I and I am she.

I love her.

Enticing transparency of glass, crafted
sand shaping figure, wide cavity craving
to be filled allowing, oxidation melding
to capture oxygen emanate aromas,

inebriating flavours held by opaque
long stems impeding my consideration, I want
I do not, an automated old recurring gesture
creeping slowly from within, whispering

no harm will come from flowing, burgundy
liquid gold in the abyssal hole where stormy
tides hide ghostly presence, of memories
left behind. Fooling mind in thinking I

am only slightly, braking the rule being
responsible by starting, lightly. It is only
eleven after all and with a drop it’s twelve
before I know. A more appropriate time

to indulge, caressing bottles faithful
lovers pouring to please me, while
viciously they hurt me slithering inside.
I select the self-inflicted idea, that I can deal

I do not, have a problem if I cut, down
that’s just because I want to, not because
I have to. And I am more fun, I can relate
Or at least pretend I do without, feeling

like a fish out of water I can laugh disregarding,
the harm that has been done, to me
of which I am weary. Believe me it is scary.
And as my lips turn purple despite a soothing

taste I don’t like, myself in this state I rather,
run to my refuge where I do. Love humanity
yet know so well, no one will ever care, more
for me than myself. Miss that little girl,

always smiling counting stories, now
shading behind glasses to keep every other
being at a distance. Unable to flout
the Universe’s tendency unlike humans,

to prefer me when I am sober. They don’t
know, how could they, believing they are
worried when they claim I need it, a social
life yet they ignore, how overly populated

is my soul, encompassing them all.

Last drops and I linger regretting
lost hours drowned in wine.

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.

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.

Two point one million kilometres per hour
Is the speed at which we flow, in Space
As we live our exotic eventful lives
On seemingly motionless grounds
Firm and solid beneath our feet.

One thousand six hundred seventy five
Kilometres per hour is the speed of those grounds,
A spherical dancer pirouetting endlessly to enlight
The marvellous show alternating day and night.
Rotations we do not feel, dizziness incomplete.

As speed is constant, momentum numbs
Our senses, though it is unable to deceive
The winds and ocean currents, only tangible proof
Of our movement, incessantly blowing and running
Yet bound to Earth for neither to escape.

Air deflecting between high and low
Pressures, to move extra heat elsewhere,
Balancing temperatures, to talk about the weather,
Offering seasons to render
Our terrestrial little planet an inhabitable one.

Elegant harmonisation, Coriolis Effect,
Universe orchestrating sophisticated laws
Setting the rare conditions, for wind to blow,
For us to exist.

Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility

to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity

on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,

induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth

much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging

to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,

research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency

participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep

and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can

destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction

ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.

You are to be found far and wide within
Me and out, flowing through veins, inundating
Entirety. Ancient drops of you concealed
In stars released through showering debris,
Rendering existence possible, your absence
Intolerable, instincts in eternal search of you.

Intimacy in little opaque cabins made of glass,
Ceramic tubs, algae basins, riverbeds, by shores
Where feet don’t touch, blanketing granular materials,
Silicon dioxide in the form of insoluble quartz, calcium
Carbonate from shells and skeletons of organisms,
Corals and molluscs losing you forever, stranded in deserts.

I allow you all for you know how, to gently
Lick and lap thirsty skins, totality of my body
Hankering after vital substance as you take control
Of me, manipulating vibrations with mastery, unaware
Of your nature, crucial lymph, my only lover,
Forcefully penetrating cavities and pores.

I shut my eyes to your caress, yearning
For profundity, melting desiring fusion as
I unseal my lips to drink of you, inebriating
The perfect system longing to redefine
Itself through absorption, recognising
Its consistency, you within and out.

Your power soothes my consciousness, heals
My ills, paces my movement as your sound
Orchestrates, my heartbeat and breath to
The rhythm of universal quantum. You are old.
Billions of years constantly mutate your state
From ice to vapours, though I crave for you most

In liquid form.

Long fingers, strong
as those of a pianist, maestro
entrancing as he strikes ivory
keys unleashing,
hypnotising notes gently
opening with an adagio,
softly incalzando to an allegro
keeping tempo, beating rhythm
to intimacy only awaiting,
reverberation.

I am double the age I was, in my darkest hour,
When nothing seemed to be, quite right,
When I gazed extensively into the depths
Of my abyssal dark brown eyes, only to fall
Desperately in love with my Self and realise,
No one could ever care for me
As much as I.

I am double the age I was, in my darkest hour,
When nothing seemed to be, quite right,
When I stared neurotically at my surroundings,
Observing my likes, breathing human beings,
Their pain, their strength, their cruelty.
None of it was good enough, for me,
Too much love, too much pain, too much grief.

We were too much, of a marvellous creature
To deserve living in anguish and gloom.

I am double the age I was, in my darkest hour,
When nothing seemed to be, quite right,
When I survived my own death and will,
And decided to love all, as much as I love I.

They flow in the meanders of streets and bars,
Warnings by enslaved sugar cane harvesters from afar.
The produce as dangerous as lashes on disobedience,
From sloshed owners of plantations delirious. Tipsy greed.

Known to colonists for driving drinkers mad,
“Le rhum rend fou” they whisper in France, gulping
The brutal inebriating substance of wrong doings,
Turning blind eyes to ancient ports of human trade.

He was a descendent of those who stayed behind,
Only to later emigrate to the Metropole, unwanted
Reminders of ungrateful history. Parents working
Hard to fulfil disillusioned dreams of opportunities.

His amber bottle, his best friend, able to turn white
Sclera red, smiles into raging smears and slurs, be it
Not a swear word, using lexicon to hurt as pupils
Dilate, for looks to stab and offend, cursing blessings.

Easier to be a victim than take responsibility, blaming
All exception made for the precious liquid, bashing
Intentions with statements of futility, projects with
Sentences of failure, as the last drop burns a sore throat.

My birth was an infinite hazard slowly
suddenly sparked by a singularity, dense,
blazingly intense, warm womb of everything
to be to become, pitch black smaller than a pea

induced to expand, quantum fluctuations,
give to acquire space, to grow, foreshadow my
future existence, forbearing the libertine conduct
of particles wooing, playing games of attraction

abiding by laws elegantly unwritten, striving
to unite yet at moments repelled, by forces
unfathomable, a dynamic courtship unaware,
unconscious drive of conscienceless creations.

When, an endless labour of spinning behaviour
engenders rarity, beguiling perfection, where,
a molten sphere dances around a fiery young star
at a demure distance to lose heat and hoard

water, become a sphere of stone, a cosmic
delivery room yielding conceptions, billions of species
born, lived and extinguished, primordial ancestors
evolving I was brought into existence. Who am I?

Escaping memories I ran
To the setting of beginnings
In search of new encounters
A rescuer, an owner, a gentle

Word. Penn station had evolved
In years with my emotions,
Beguiling decadence lost
To opulence decay.

Pink granite covered in grime,
Glass filtering sunbeams had
Now turned light into grey,
Eerie shadows reflecting

My vanishing intentions,
Dwindling strength,
Waning hope.
The mellifluous cadence

Of alphanumeric flapping metals
That used to sooth me with dreams
Of arrivals and departures
Had been silenced for evermore.

Solari boards swapped
For liquid-crystal displays,
Even people had changed
Flaunting grimaces of disdain,

As they whispered rumours
Of terminal demolishment
To the benefit of a sporting arena
They would call The Garden.

I empathised with the unfluted
Columns of the Roman colonnade,
For I too had been deemed
Obsolete and inefficient,

A wreck no one shall retrieve,
To be suppressed, a panacea
For a collective consciousness
That would rather not see,

Turning blind eyes to me,
To cost-effective identity
Annihilation,
While Bobby freed of me

Won the New York State
Championship
At Poughkeepsie.

As February departs with promises
of spring abandoning premature buds
yellow on solitary mimosa trees left
to freeze and shiver under the unwanted

caress of Russian buran, sternly gliding
over mounts rivers and valleys to cross
the unsurmountable Urals, past graves
to the defeat of many warriors, undaunted

by obstacles to reach the Italian peninsula,
covering lands and my garden in white
blankets of thick soft snow, suffocating my roses,
teasing my ficuses and palms, wringing

firewood to the disappointment of my chimney,
never as now so appealing, chameleonicly
camouflaging my hoary stray cat, it has deserted
its usual spot, its hammock imbued

turning to a colourful icy sheet of material,
as I coincidentally prepare for my physics
exam on climate change, I bring
to shelter my bonsais and baobabs.

Why something rather than nothing,
millenary questions mankind dwell
upon whilst witnessing existence
of surroundings, mesmerising

phenomena. Enthralling vibrations
we sense, sparkling myriad colours,
sounds, shaping textures emitting scents,
flavours tingling baffled palates.

Wandering on metamorphosing soils
ceaselessly reflourishing in springs,
celebrated by pagans and mystic believers
the same, for the goddess we call nature is

the only revealing
itself before us with no veils.

Bathing in fresh waters, rivers
streaming from icy mountain tops
to endless oceans of white
salty minerals balancing life,

in the depths of which all began,
cells melding to engender species
of omnific varieties, beguiling entities
curiously exiting to wander lands.

Juicy fruits on branches of rising trees
erecting to shield, shading creatures
from the scorching rays of a brilliant
star, circadian dawning consenting

earthly presence to evolve, for eyes
to rise contemplating space, in time,
notice the sparkling lights
on infinite black canvas, wonder

what they are, mirific excitement
while perceiving a unique
peculiar consciousness encompassing
all that ever was is and will be,

for intuition to question in beguile,
Why something rather than nothing?

Your crooked smile the flower behind
Dumbo ears reflections of light
onto the boldness of your distinctive
gargantuan head, baby looks

one wouldn’t expect, from an imposing
gentle giant like yourself.

Your invitation to stay when everyone
leaves, closing hour, tipsy people ******
into night streets as you turn the key
lock the door behind them. Pub shut.

Bringing bamboo sofas together
improvised imperial king-size beds,
innocent projection In The Mood
For Love on white sheets pined

to the wall, soundtrack to your echoing
heartbeat as I approach, lay my head
on your chest teasing fingers twirling
the soft curly hair surrounding

*******, pretending to follow the plot
suffocating the sound of my deepening
breaths, when resistance loses purpose
and I submit to your hypnotic lips,

hands scoping each other’s worlds
as we unveil slithering tips on soft skins,
yours and mine akin, though you are strong
and I am delicate, movement symbiosis

orchestrated by Umebayashi, a two-piece
jigsaw made of flesh, meticulously moulded
to fit, once forever no space left between
as we fill the voids with steamy exhales

overwhelmed by your power I struggle
to prevent, reason commanding vocal chords
to emit the sound demanding cease, ‘Stop’,
whilst my kernel essentially pleads not to,

an internal duel I refuse to attend, biting
my lip holding you tight protracting time
not to end as I fall, madly into you
and mistakenly confuse your body with mine,

unable to define where you finish
and I begin.

Although you died since,
on occasions I recall.

When ancient Greeks dwelt upon notions
Of matter and its nature, formulating philosophies
Of physics to grasp and get a glimpse at the Universe,
A single common inspired idea, bound them all in reflection:

‘Nothing comes into existence from nothing’.

There had to be eternal surviving basic elements unable
To be created or destroyed, continuously mutating to underline
Apparent change, while composing all that ever was, is
And will be. Omnificent and omnipresent in a godly manner.

Evolution laying the grounds for rare creatures
To grow into great thinkers, ponder and observe,
Empirically prove the facticity of these elements,
Philosophical atoms, scientific elementary particles.

Notes on the elegant musical score
Orchestrating the Universe, its dance and its laws.
Indivisible, matter reduced to its core
Permeating space and everything within.

This basic notion twirls in my head
Pervading my being with the awareness of its substance:
I am part of all that exists and with it,
I share my essence.

A consequent conscious feeling of unity
With the Universe, all that exists and the humankind.
A sense of inevitable peace,
While accepting to be a part of it all.

Harmonic realisation that combined we are
Nothing more and nothing less
Than the Universe becoming aware
Of Itself.

Traces of tiredness excavate deep into his skin,
Daily, as I enter with a volatile smile, weekly,
In search of my dose of earthly blood, pretending
I am blind to my perception, neglecting my intuition.

Assumptions lead to consider he’s always had one
Too many, and perhaps something more, should I guess
An alkaloid passing off as his friend, allowing him to keep
Going, beyond his natural forces and strength.

He’s ageing prematurely, worries and silver curls
For taxes and suppliers, a runny nose and a bloated belly,
Four years of activity, complots and conspiracy,
Courting customers who vary, trading loyalty for markdowns.

Experience acquired by the day, market research,
Watching the big shots being relieved, treating debts
By way of mathematical games as he pays
For each and every one of his mistakes.

His little dog assumes his likes, long grey hair
Covering his eyes, not to see, the infamy.
For that particular *** you can only ask Velier,
He sets the price, no bargains, no payables, barely any gain.

On the black market however, other stories are told.
Creative Naples, its entrepreneurs and financial guards
Guide you from depots to highways exchanging farewells
At the tollbooth. Your risk, your gloom, your despair.

The *** in his car boot costs less but is the same,
Same brand, same bottle, same taste, had to pass through Velier.
Nervous as a reluctant crook, his required foxiness impedes
Timid tears from rolling down his cheeks and give in.

As he questions the rules of the illegitimate system,
Cursing those deprived of scruples, dwelling
With notions of honesty and integrity, he too compelled
To evasion to merely survive,

His conclusion resolves in a simple explanation,
“If you are willing to give up morals, honour and passion
You can too attempt to succeed
In the wine bar industry.”

From my thoughts to my lips and in my veins,
I am sickly besotted with you. Without you
I’m in pain. I crave for you from dawn to dusk,
Finding relief only in my slumbers, when I dream
Of others, not of you.

For you don’t pertain to my hours of darkness,
There are limits to what you can give. When you sleep
With me I don’t, I fidget and tremble, toss and turn
In bed as you flow right through me provoking shivers.
I hence lie without you, longing to awake.

When I do rise to the morning beams penetrating
My windows overpoweringly, my mind gallops towards
You commanding my feet to follow, my eyes to find you.
You are there. You are always there. Faithfully waiting
For me where I left you.

Your loyalty besieges me and I surrender to the smell
Of your strong black hot body, yearning for you taste,
Gulping your exotic essence to the last drop, smoking
Cigarettes before, during and after our ritual *******.
I say I love you, they are worried I’m addicted to you.

The last time we accidentally drifted apart I was afraid.
Four days without you drove me insane, perennially drenched
In a cold sweat, devastated by stomach cramps and panic
Attacks, feeling ill beyond remedy. The doctor sentenced
I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms and I had to be

Strong. I ignored him and came running back to you
Promising I would never live you again, toying with
Your powdery texture slipping through my fingers,
Inebriated by your vapours as your liquid substance
Produces that oh-so-familiar gurgling noise.

The lives we cross unknowing
The green-grass paths they wayfare,
Fables of fays and fiends unspoken
Truths belonging to entities of matter,

Flesh bones a body, rhythmed by breath
A heartbeat, pumps red juices carrying
Cleansing oxygen through tireless veins
To a brain, synapses creating thoughts

Interpreting, nervous sensations only
Tempered by hormonal roller coasters
As we defy, the mystic and attempt
To make sense of our existence beyond

The astonishing complex husk leisurely,
Deteriorating in time as we blow on candles
Grasping indeed there is far more inside,
A microcosm endeavouring to reconcile

With an all-pervasive Universe encompassing
As stars fall before our eyes, chronic sunrise,
Twirling incessantly without ever feeling
Dizzy, dazed by questions sparkling intuitively

As we struggle with the limits of earthly
Confinement, the green-grass paths we wayfare,
Health impediments, mental distortions,
Quarrelling with our fellow adventurers

Our frustrations, neglecting to acknowledge
The fays lifting us up whilst unpredictable
Fiends bid to crush when unexpectedly
Unfathomable interior strength unites

Us through experience a succession
Of collective errors misinterpretations
Aware however that we will endure,
Evolve to reach our highest potentials

For a unique welfare granted to all
Creatures, as we set course into the vastness
Of bewilderment, inexplicable space,
Omnific unfurling home to humanity

And all the breaths within.

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.

This is ground control
I sneaked in to give you a call,
it’s been a while and I yet wonder
are you still floating ‘round your tin can?

Since you launched in sixty-nine
not much has changed on planet Earth,
though Voyager one has left the system
recording sounds of Interstellar Space.

Its batteries are running low
but then other probes are on their way
rest assure, they are not searching for you
you’ve been forgotten long ago.

Scientists still question whether
indeed there is life on Mars,
planning missions to get there
we’ll leave in fifteen years or so.

Some are drawing domes forsaking
tragedy, creatively painting our escape.
Mickey Mouse has packed his suitcase,
left Minnie waiting in a bar.

Modern telescopes point to discover
exoplanets not too far, just in case,
some residing habitable zones
orbiting nearby stars.

This is ground control
I hear footsteps in the corridor,
have to run will call you again
until then I’ll keep taking care,

of your Diamond Dogs.

It once belonged to imagination
Science-fiction novels
Apocalyptic movies
Scary jokes,
Our worst nightmares.

It once was free for all,
No one being could claim
Property over the volatile
Substance.
No one being would dare,
Fearing the rise of horror
And rage.

New businesses for lingering
Problems.
Failure to succeed in taking care
Naturally resolves
In stakeholder’s revenue.
Air in a bottle.

Vitality from Canadian Rockies
160 breaths for 24 dollars.
Canned air to be taken
Tongue-in-cheek.

Aethaer from British countryside
103 dollars a jar.
“Environmental-political artwork”
Giving birth to absurdity.
Notions of “air farming”.

Companies cashing in
On pollution selling
Trendy fashionable designer
Pollution masks,
From 33 to 100 dollars
A piece.

Little or no benefits
On health for desperate
Populations, willing to pay
The price set on air,
To compensate.

Thick smog from factories
Invisible poisons from vehicle exhausts
Seven million people dying
From breathing
Smoke, gases and soot
Pumped into the atmosphere.
For profit.

Crystalline waters enclose the rocks
Which ancient sailors swore to be,
The remnants of genesis leftovers
Of creation ****** deep, in the heart

Of the Mediterranean sea. Stones
Of philosophers mystic alchemy,
Metamorphosing mercury into precious metals,
Silver and gold, thoughts and ideas.

Blissful grounds of Magnum Opuses
In search of enlightenment where arid soils,
Nurture the trees symbolising peace
Delivering fruits treasuring divine,

A golden juice, a gift from Athena, goddess
Of wisdom gently slithering In Greek veins,
Inebriating essence with innate, gratitude
Towards nature and pride for roots profoundly,

Entrenched in concepts of liberty equality
Justice for all human beings, are equal by nature
Social animals responsible for,
Governing themselves within a civil society

Of free individuals. A land encompassing
A thousand islands, perpetual movement
Of tectonic plates under a blistering sun,
Caressing mountains a tireless breeze, whirls

The little white flowers off olive trees,
Now embodying the pervasive spirits of past
Conquerors standing on millenary blood-bathed
Territories ruled, yet by the twelve Olympians

A mythology while history is written
And narrates, the story of the men who fought
For pride and glory earthly vices
And out of Love.

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.

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.

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.

A stranded auburn brittle leaf before me
surrenders to the deftly sweep of zephyr,
coriolically swirling to elevate its conquest
into an air of revolving molecules, colliding,

split by ultraviolets to recombine, ceaselessly
creating shielding layers of evanescence, rare,
delicate, perfect. All in graceful motion
synergically metamorphosing around,

immovable trees deeply rooted in fertile soils,
breathing in our toxics, exhaling our essential
inhales, growing to shade, fauna from irradiance,
that of a star wizardly shilly-shallying with water,

a silent duet, dissolving to ascend
towards the skies, finding freedom in vapours
yet unable to escape, hauled back to rain,
replenish lakes, rivers flowing a course

estuaries to lavishing blue oceans, the depths
in which cells creatively began moulding into shape,
under erumpent tides metronomes of balance
orchestrating and echoing foreplays of attraction,

to a distant enchanting moon of paleness
jealously mimicking the love affair between
Earth and Sun, the first chasing the latter
endlessly in infinite space, as it performs

revolutions around holes of darkness seduced
by its opposite in which it mirrors and identifies
mutual origins, marble games where speeds
of clustered spheres exceed a million miles an hour

where inexistent time beats the rhythm scored
by elegant laws pulling the strings to the dance
of seduction, pirouetting above our blind eyes,
power, as zephyr decides to repose

the auburn brittle leaf once more,
before me.

Much like the Mayans thousands of years before,
Granting 2012 the honour to host
An apocalyptic end of the world,
Peruvian shamans now declare
2017 the year
Of turbulence and widespread war.

The healers thus reunite on a hill,
In the capital of Lima to perform
Cleansing rituals able to prevent
The fatal clash between North Korea and the US.
It comes at a time of heightened tensions
Between the two countries over
Threatening nuclear missile programmes.

An unprecedented inferno ignites the night of a West
London residential skyscraper burning
From its second to its twenty-seventh floor
Unleashing the worst nightmares
Of its sleeping inhabitants
And the courage of sleepless fire-fighters.

Colombia's Farc rebels hand over their weapons
To United Nations Inspectors
As part of historic peace accords,
While the President declares,
“Peace will be built little by little,
Like a cathedral, which you build brick by brick"
Revolutionary forces no longer armed.

Migrations creating social unrests
People fleeing their threatening nests,
As mayors plead governments not to let
Any more in and ministries ask, cities to absorb
Two hundred and fifty thousand more.
Coast guards relentlessly saving the drowning ones.

US Attorney General denies, having undisclosed meetings
With Russian officials in Washington hotels.
Any suggestions of collusion with the Kremlin described
As appalling and detestable lies.
Agency’s investigation into Russian political meddling impeded
As Intelligence believes in conspiracies. Memories of Cold Wars
And Bond movies where the ‘traitor’ was lucky to be fired and not shot.

While doctors announce people over 75 taking
Daily aspirin after a stroke or heart attack
Are at higher risk of major and sometimes fatal
Stomach bleeds than previously thought,
Anthropologists excavating in Morocco
Find fossils of potential ancestors, the oldest sapiens retrieved,
Tracing back our steps to 300, 000 years before present.

Across the ocean, somewhere in Arizona,
A man heading to a retirement home prepares,
Cleans up his garage with the help of a neighbour
And finds a 15 million dollar *******, he ignored
He ever had.

Why is it so arduous
for us to believe we are
beguilingly startling
creatures as none?

Whilst we look at others
we call animals and remain,
befuddled by the perfection
of a nature we reclaim,

temporary beings
roaming freely a land
of prosperous marvels
releasing an infinity

of colours, delicate those
of uncountable flowers,
green that of trees
erecting forests of auburn,

as we spectate the dance
of stones raising mountains,
following the streams
sourcing from them,

cascading into rivers
torrents pouring into
shimmering oceans
unfolding to the limits

of our sight,
where water touches the sky
and we stare marvelling,
at sunset giving birth

to myriad stars iridescent
on black canvas.

Why is it so arduous
for us to believe we are
beguilingly startling
creatures as none?

Upside down
No one would like to admit,
Upside down
Is how the awkward things
Appear.
No use in contradicting
Conventional ideas
Of fearing individuals
Demanding constancy.

Strange thoughts and senses
Only serve the purpose
Of gossip, judgement, derision
And isolation.

They thought he was crazy
When he could not relate.
They thought he was stupid
When he could not understand
And explaining was a defeated battle
Before he even began.

Only someone blind
Seeing beyond
Attempted to comprehend
His upside down world.

He saw colours where there were none.
Letters and numbers tinted
On road signs, newspapers and books.
Different shades for different graphemes,
All but black. “A” was red.

He heard colours and saw sounds,
Moving shapes, length, width and depth.
Fireworks in his mind.
Voices, music, shutting doors,
Dog barks and clattering dishes,
All had colours only he would know.
“B flat” was orange.

Numbers had a place around him,
2 was closer than 1.
Time had a form in space
Quasi-tangible that he could grasp.
Sounds tingled his skin
With tactile sensations
On a body untouched.
Week-day names and months
Had their own personality,
Monday was a short temper man.

Words and colours
Had their own flavours,
“Love” tasted like cherry, blue
Like candy.
Even personalities had auras,
While pains sparkled rainbows.

Finally one day,
Though it made no substantial difference,
They told him his condition
Had a name:
Synaesthesia, they explained,
From Greek, sensations combined.
The new word gave him a thrill down the spine,
Its colour was lilac and it smelled like goat cheese.

I’ll never forget my friend
Who saw the world upside down
Teaching me colours as I see
Only black and different shades of grey.

Evolving human
Surrounded by colours,
Gentle grins provoking last
Enduring glances of suspicion,
‘What have they to smile?’

Unfamiliar green-carpet
Streets and glowing faces,
Sounds of unusual happiness
Inundating land, echoing
In the calm unsuffering seas.

Dark elegant suits knit
With gold and silver threads,
In disuse.

Lost briefcases enshrining
Carbon-stained paper sheets,
Unowned, unwanted, and unneeded.

Trees no longer afraid.
May the souls of their ancestors
Rest in peace. Memory does persist.

Sober fancy ties around
Chocking blue necks,
Thrown away.
White collars freeing from chains.

Unleashed,
What was, forgotten.
Forging truth in history
No one teaches,
Lies of imaginative deceptive minds
No one learns.

Red once-fashionable high heels
Buried with garbage, along with
Addictive games and batteries
Creating manmade hills,
Offered to nature as Trojan horses
Waiting to astonish.

While flowers bloom
And wilderness takes over,
Evolving human wonders
‘Where have I been until this moment?’
And smiles.

Anthropology suggests there was a time
When no communication was spoken by men,
Merely embryonic sounds to express
Primitive thoughts, until development called
For evolution to inspire, words holding meaning.

Religion narrates archaic stories of Babel,
Of a common tongue bonding civilisations
Building a Tower, until the Lord witnessed
The limitless ability of a unified humanity and decided,
To confuse their speech to disunite them.

Esotericism puts forth the ancient possibility
Of a coalescing language to be found in telepathy,
Unable to hide, disguise or lie, until men felt
The need to do so, creating lemmas that would conceal
Their real intentions and their true self.

Now if someone in English is a person and no one
Is nobody, and in Italian the someone is a persona
And the nobody is nessuno, when the French call both
The someone and the nobody personne, what does it do

To the understanding of each other?

As Earth spun to unfold a kind
creating sounds it calls upon
to express a thought a feeling
a sensation it barely comprehends,

life at the remnants of the core
of what once was a unique land
named Pangea evolved,
to get acquainted with a notion

that would reign thereon.

It all happened in an area
of encounters where gothic Liufs
held dear by German Lieb
saw Lief the Dutch and Liaf the Frisian

fall for Liof the Saxon catching Lob
praising Liebe rejoicing in the arms
of Liubi. Until came Lufu the English
who desired and felt romantic

****** attraction it believed worthy
of a noun all to itself, and that is when
Luve came into the scene to be greater
than anything else, a word

no one would ever forget.
While behind the curtains
Albanian Lyp begged needing Lips
demanding for more.

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.

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.

You took me dancing by the harbour
after snow fell the night, covering
sand and sea in white for an instant
mist in my eyes, as we twirled

towards dizziness held
by the heated pressure of your right
hand posed on my back
the seat of my emotions pressed

against your chest, blind
to others the cold
breeze a scorching ray,
hitting violently on pins and needles

skin an awkward sensation,
confusing ice for fire,
strikes for strokes,
your attention for love.