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.

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.

I believe in never speaking the words,
‘Should have’ and ‘would have’, enemies
Of the Self.

Though many were the times
I should have, would have known
Better,

Life treated me well. Bad moments
Acknowledged as necessary paths,
To becoming who I am.

Now I am asked to ponder and find
One thing I would do
Otherwise.

I know exactly what it is and I’m ashamed
To confess: Say ‘No’ all the times I said ‘Yes’,
Unwillingly.

A chronic violence to myself,
To please others under emotional blackmails,
Fake rules of good behaviour and respect.

I should have, would have liked
To love myself more and find
The ****** courage to say ‘No’,

All the times I said ‘Yes’.

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.

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.

Wallowing in rolling under the covers
only very slowly awaking from slumbers,
half way between Morpheus and Aletheia
my eyes were still closed when the first

thought of you crawled into the warmth
of my morning bed. Serendipitous encounter
forged by your last night’s cajoling words,
lured yet reluctant to give in too swiftly

I thwart the voicing of my impulse, convincing
myself that if I wait a little longer
this blazing fever will clemently abate.

As I settle for the amiable embrace of sunbeams.

They tell me in man
lies the source of evils
as weakness surrenders
to ineluctable lures.

That he pursues aims
of personal interest
out of egocentric greed
prompting justice, inequity.

That he turns blind eyes
to the sufferings of others
unable of compassion as he
steals their earthly blessings.

That he imperturbably drains
natural resources to his gain
careless of consequences
apathetic towards environment.

That in the name of telluric power
he does not hesitate to drop
bombs and fire guns
on discriminated innocents.

Watches his fellow beings die rejoices
for the success of his missions,
Yet I know, that for each
malicious creature there is one.

That preaches good and acts
accordingly, finding strength
in the marvel that is
his own existence.

That appals before ignorance
repels individualism
conceives humanity as one race
believes and strives for equality.

That sees the struggles the tragedy
of the less fortunate born
on lands of war sickness and poverty
lending a hand of empathy.

That cares for his surroundings
cherishing the boons granted
to all living creatures
endeavouring to protect, his world.

That is dismayed by injustice
abhors violence and abuse
engages courage to protest
incessantly crying out, for peace.

Delights gifting strangers smiles
tender looks of presence whispering
brotherly, You are not alone.

A kind word, a loving deed, a revolution.

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.

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?

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?

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.’

Eyes dimmed by calicanto vapours find

ecstasy in blurs as sandalwood scents arise
from burning candles, melding to provoke
an original entrancing redolence, a fay’s
potion delicately sending me into raptures.

Cocooned in the crystalline aqueous lymph
nakedness allows fondling drops to slither,
softly caressing skin with each emersion only
to immerse once more for greater pleasure.

Intensifying warmth enhances my perception
of this bliss persuaded, that nothing else
could touch me in this place, placental womb
imperturbable enchantment, secluded, from

reality shielded by a shell made of steam.

Enthralling haze incites fantasy to unleash
enticing indulgence in blind hallucinations
where ethereal substance imposes its flesh
upon my liquescing essence.

Chimerical cleansing drowning impurities
that will escape, when I’ll remove the cap
I will watch them whirl away, sheathed
in my bathrobe a chalice of red wine

will remain untouched as I’ll refuse
to relinquish the beguiling delight.

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.

Granted the sense of sight, I see
What you see, reflections of light, between
Infrareds and ultraviolets, a little portion
Of the electromagnetic spectrum, unhidden
To our vision, only guessing the wonders of X
And Gamma rays, while playing with colours.

Entrusted with a mind able to recognise and realise,
I comprehend what you understand, and distinguish
Water from soil, oceans from forests, planet Earth
From star Sun, food from poison, love from hate, my body
From yours, delineating where I end and you begin, detecting
Our similitude as a species, bound by rationality and feelings.

Conferred unfathomable imagination, intangible
Deprived of a location, I delight myself in conceiving
Your ideas, identifying with your thoughts, magical grasp
Of the unknown and uninvented, able to create my perceptions,
Give life to conceptions, just like you, pouring words on paper,
Painting images on canvas, building shelters and wheels.

Bequeathed the legacy of common ancestors, millennia
Of history and knowledge, culture, tradition and creeds, evolution,
I share your story, your anatomy and physiognomy, your blood
And DNA, a map of all the genes composing you and me,
Trillions of cells gathering together to make a human being,
With the strongest impression that I resemble you, in so many ways.

Bestowed with consciousness I contain
Information I explore, attempting to unleash
The essence stored within, that unspecified certain thing
That unites all that exists, and elicits humankind to believe
Something greater, something beyond has a determined volition
For me to apprehend that I am you, and you are me.

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.

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.

Perceptions of my body disturbed, me
With consciousness. Unable to relate,
Recognise myself in others, irrepressible despair,
Frantically ridding of clothes, jewels, makeup.

Hardly bearing the touch of feet to ground,
Blue moquette, craving annihilation,
Cancelling body to erase thoughts.
Little did I know I would learn to love all.

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.

Manacles made of thoughts
Enchain spirits encaged
In asymmetric chambers
Of bodies neglecting to heed,

Prisoners they conceal within,
Terrestrial material planes
Where the tangible struggles
To conceive the impalpable yet,

Inexplicably perceives its essence
As it knocks on the soft membranes,
Of a mind striving to connect.
The incarcerator attempting

To acquaint, itself with the incarcerated
Who, peacefully surrenders as it knows
It will be freed from shackles with,
The death of thoughts and the burning

Of the corpse.

While four hauled on ropes
with all their might to heave
the vessel the rest of us pushed
as hard as we could for it to slip,

over rolling wood stems of nearby
centenary trees, cylinder boles cut
collected and positioned neatly
on the beach. Feet sinking in sand

scorching skin for what could have been
the last time, ingenious procedure
to ****** the mended old ship
at sea, once more to sail where winds

would blow her, hope would lead her.
Little did we know the two would take
us far into nowhere abandoning tars
to the mercy of blistering quiet.

No gale no direction other
than sudden calenture affecting
all the crew the captain miles
away from any coast under

hallucinogenic revelations
delivering abreactions
unexpected introspection
resulting in acquaintance

with self. Until storm was greeted
with joy mouths wide-open
like kids sticking tongues
out to seize drops of unsalted

fresh water after seven
days of compulsory ***
depletion. Invigorated a new
battle introduced its imminence,

waves as high as ancient temples
were the rival faced
while lowering sails to survive
unwilling to surrender yet

searching for land
through reluctant biting lashes until,
the last billow we saw captured
us and closed our eyelids,

forevermore.

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.

The casing we cling onto so greatly
reassures us that indeed we do exist,
for our impalpable spirit
at times, appears merely a dream.

Our eyes in which we look so deep
as if attempting to grasp the within,
shining bliss or saddenedly opaque
dilate at every fascinating detection,

our hair of many colours, curly or straight
a frame to our visage round or oval
we recognise as ours, reflected on
crafted sea sand for us not to forget,

who we are, focusing on its features
one by one, wrinkles portraying
our escapades scrutinised in search
of traces of happiness amid the many scars,

as a central protuberance inhaling
detects scents of others
registered to elicit memories, red lips
our mouth uttering sounds we call words

through vibrating vocal chords stored
in our throat, our neck tirelessly supporting
the head, on our shoulders bearing
the knots revealing our frustrations

insanity, while arms are still willing
and able to carry out intentions,
five fingered hands at their extremities
to mould ideas give them space

in the physical realm, our torso
encaging to protect muscles
pumping life where distinction
is made between woman and man,

for she in clothing hides her *******
of nourishment for progeny to grow,
our stomach flat or bloated conceals
a second mind, enteric nervous system

responding to emotions, our pelvic
cavity beneath, where reproductive organs
give, pleasure to the living
engendering new lives, our thighs,

knees and calves supporting
our every motion so that we
could wander the land discover
understand, our feet

rooted to the ground for balance,
for us not to loose touch
with reality fly away
in realms of fantasy, our skin

delicate involucre of it all, shelling
our skeleton keeping us *****, protecting
trillions of cells
unfathomably combining to compose,

us.

Details as tiny flecks of sand,
From the abysses of deepest waters
Rise above creating land,
For us to walk on solid grounds
Carpets of thin glass,
As they unfold immensity
One grain at the time.

Deferral an insidious skulking mortal
born out of apathy where tenacity is held.

Creeps through nerves leaving trails
of poisonous narcotics, pulls on the strings
of a fragile brain.

Feeds on a grit in lethargy
mind desperately seeks to awake,

contaminates ambitions by turning
desires into dreams.

Finds it death by chocking
On gulps of great passions and resolve.

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.

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.

Coach eight seat eight C, I repeated
incessantly when my mind decided
to abandon my folly and me. My only
companion an unstable incapacity

to think. A brain refusing any incoming
synapse, neurons pretending deafness
as I shouted out for help from within,
searching for myself and my protector

me. Coach eight seat eight C, when
the doctor decided to keep me in, no
signature to affix on papers to ensure
my release, they had managed to teach

me, I should ask for help when I could
not aid myself, and so I did. Twenty-four
hours of surveillance before I could
finally escape from he who voluntarily

tortured my reason. Getaway. Ran to
the harbour, bought the ferry ticket left
the island, crossed the sea, reached
the mainland. The chaos of Naples felt

like peace to me. Proceeded to the station
glimpsing behind me as if followed by a ghost,
bought the train ticket, Coach eight seat eight C,
I repeated incessantly when my mind decided

to abandon my folly and me. I recovered
eight weeks later in the safe of love and lack
of attention, for those who know me know
I despise the mercy of the spotlight. Let me be

and I will just be.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Muteness creates sounds, warning perils
as hyenas shrewdly approach shelters,
expressing needs of thirst and hunger
when lands run dry and fruits perish,

chanting instincts sparked by seasons
eliciting mating overtures inspired,
drawing pictures on cave walls
to indelibly report, leave a legacy

of human exploits, enduring struggles,
nascent cultures and traditions,
storytelling striving to be faithful
to a truth the only known, evolving

to engender words made of letters
placed in devised orders to confess
thoughts and feelings, exchange concepts
and ideas, bring minds closer to reflect

upon the myriad marvels of a world yet
to be discovered. Eclipses. Crafting caravels
designing maps, recording wonders
encountered in search of an end, a limit

where it all began, keeping Captain’s log
fearing the monsters of the unknown,
tornados and typhoons a presage
of death inducing mortals to call

for mercy upon immortal gods,
fantastically explaining what reason is unable
to decipher. Singing songs to raise moral
until bashing locutions begin to bless

far more than slaps and blades, hanging ropes,
lightning and storms, using them to hurt
with intentions turned malicious, ingenious
communicative talents drowning

in oceans of wickedness and shame, leading
man to regret to have ever invented words
in the first place, leaving me with just one
sound of indwelling grief, a sigh, succumbing

tuning back to muteness.

Seated at the candle-lit dinner table my
aural senses distracted by musicians neglect
the biographic monologue of the diner before me.
Feet impulsively impose their rhythmic behaviour

timidly beating the floor, improvised drums
silenced whilst nonchalantly looking elsewhere,
artless reaction to captivating tunes, pretending
self-possession as vibrations slowly softly gently creep

along my spine, flowing through veins and nerves
altering heartrate unable to make believe interest
in words unheard any longer, finely tuning to meld
when my head ineluctably yields to sway inviting,

the rest of my body and him to follow. ‘Stand up!’
I interrupt rolling shoulders beamingly gazing
into his eyes, eager to be swung, swirling hips
outpouring sensuality, his and mine getting closer

until hands meet each other’s skin enticing and
though everything is warmer shivers swiftly cloud
my shutting eyes, dizziness inebriating movement
entranced, pleasantly losing consciousness

into his arms with a final Do.

Watching the crowd I ponder
On all the crowds that came before,
Since the first chimps gathered
Ignoring what they might become,
And I question, ‘Does this crowd know?’

Demonstrating for peace, mourning the victims,
Demanding revenge, ‘obliterate’ another crowd,
‘**** ’em all, none of ’em are me friends!’
Chaotic and confused, do they even attempt,
Meditating on who they are growing into and might become?

Depictions of crowds in history take me back
On the timeline of our journey, when **** habilis
Came to be erectus, grouping under a shelter
Protecting fire to survive, evolve and develop.
How would he consider humanity today? Would he understand?

And what would early Sapiens think if he saw us?
Would he renounce the exodus from Ethiopia?
A crowd in search of new spaces to call home
Exploring the marvels of its curiosity and potential.
Would he turn around and spare us the distress of future conquests?

And when the last Neanderthal and Floresiensis died
And skins began turning light, anthropology to recognise
The survival of one and only **** genus species,
Sapiens all worldwide, how did it forget who he was and where he came from?
How did it, or we, end up fighting each other out of fear and greed?

When did life stop being enough?
When did our mere existence stop
To bewilder us in marvel and delight?

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.

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.

Details shape perspectives killing time
classifying experiences drawing lessons
from the past to live a fleeting
present wrapped up in comfort offered
by the most illusive conviction we are
ensuring a mistakeless future laying

the grounds to understanding.

People hurt others and themselves, a fact,
have and will do so again, might as well
rationalise and take notes, categorise offenses
under text book notions of human psyche.
To pseudo comprehend, believe they surely did
it out jealousy or envy, inferiority complex, greed,

fear of rejection, of commitment, fear
tout court, latent ancient traumas, alcoholism,
loneliness, inadequacy, stress, lack of fantasy,
defence mechanisms, revenge and rage,
frustration, Freudian mums and dads to blame,
poverty, miseducation or in vogue bipolar

mental disorders.

Newly labelled manic depression justifying
the indefensible, falling under the taxonomy
of psychological disease. Victim of one’s mind
or coward in disguise? And if evil be an illness
would it follow that, with no fault comes no crime?
The catalogue complete, what is left a bunch of notes

recorded in the abyssal perplexity of tired
brains, aged bones. A life spent studying flaws
instead of standing in awe in front of All.
While if, zooming out from details to focus
on bigger pictures, homes become nations,
neighbourhoods Earth, individuals Humanity,

the Universe,

partial essence of which we are, traveling
without moving through mysterious space
under mystic laws we call, Natural.
Do they determine who we are? And if,
ridding of the catalogue I am reborn,
a newfound meaning looking far beyond,

to see amazing little creatures stubbornly survive,
to live and endure, prove we are
much more than complexes and fears,
ambitions and diseases, corrupted thoughts,
but a miracle of feelings, eager to learn,
only beginning to become,

aware of itself.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sombre footpaths dewed with vapours
of fear condensed I walked, petrified I
would lose command, my mind, my reason,
my reflection tormented by

a malfunctioning intellect never ceasing
to ponder. Myriads of thoughts I thought
would lead me to insanity until, forebodings
swiftly evanesced under beams before me,

incandescent light radiated by the closest
star, leaving me alone, in ecstasy
of a fearless journey within the immensity
encompassing, voluntarily surrendering

control only trusting, my gut in tune
with the natural volition of The All.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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’.

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.

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.

Infancy talked to me various languages, switching
Tonalities for different melodies, to be learnt.
Naturally acquiring the discernment, recognising
Faces and voices to choose applicable native tongues.

English with my father, whose name echoed as Plato,
Iranian with my mother, Italian with my siblings, French
With school teachers, Greek on summer holidays.

Growing up my hair and accents, led to the inevitable
Repetitive question, ‘Where are you from?’
Timidly answered as it was hard to comprehend, until I set
Myself to do so untiringly drafting precious family trees.

Investigations interrogating relatives to exhaustion,
Ignited my pride for every single drop of blood,
Composing me and drawing borders
On geographical maps delineating my essence.

My story was one of many, they labelled me a multi-ethnic,

For my daddy’s naissance in Accra from a mulatto beauty
Queen, daughter of a British doctor and his Ghanaian lady friend.
For her husband, his Hellenic pater, son of Chios, born in Sudan.

For my mummy’s naissance in Tehran from a noble
Banker, progeny of the Qajar dynasty originally Turkic,
And his pure blood Persian wife.

My parents met in England where they studied only
To marry and move to pre-revolutionary Iran. I was born
In Rome where they fled, when insurrections began.

Now if someone asks I forcefully respond,
“From planet Earth. A terrestrial little sphere at the heart
Of its star system, on the edge of its galaxy lost
Somewhere in space in the maze of the Universe.

My story is one of many, I labelled us humans.