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.

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.

Magic arboreal lights suffuse
amid the fertile underwood,
sheltered by rebirthing leaves
on the tall tree branches of a secret

forest, after the white cold carpet
of pale snow gives way to nature’s
awakening, from wintry lethargy
when plants and flowers rise

to blossom, green pastures offer
fertility to the somnolent hungry
inhabitants, as marvelled they gaze
in wonder fault of an archaic ingenuity

before, what are unknown to humans
as fireflies. To date all still ignore
the prodigies and riddles they carry,
their beguiling looks and doings,

for they shine to hide from incredulous eyes
omitting they are the ones who ring
the bells of spring’s return. Minute
enchanting creatures of sapphire silk

hair dressed in aquamarine
satin and lace, fays bearing
the magical lanterns of life.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.