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

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

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

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

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

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

On the tombstone of a suicidal man,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of reality.

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

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

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

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

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

Of a whimsical ivory box.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To become aware of itself and all that exists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your intelligence torturing you, your emotions
suiciding you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ten seconds still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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