19 Μαΐ 2014

Kansas is no more


I.

I am falling rapidly where Kansas is no more,
as dear Alice said
Where birds are singing thru their eyes
People live on flying roofs
and fishes don’t need the traitorous sea
No one is talking to me
except the sky's cornfields

in that "Kansas no more"
death is not as we see it
but something more like loosing your baby teeth

Perhaps it  brings
one thing that life outside "Kansas no more" couldn’t
Justice

or at least forgetfulness



II

Water never apologizes
to "Kansas no more"
As it devours your thoughts
Your flesh
Your dreams
Your soul

the things you are just
Reflection of the past
Reality is double-faced
And you never know which side
you take a slide

It forgets who you were
as you become a tiny part of it

At the end you are just a fossil
An empty shell among others
a vacant decoration to deep-deep ground
where saltiness is no more


Maria Rodopoulou

7 Μαΐ 2014

Προσωρινοί



People are like clouds
they scatter away 
from wind's first breath
or they become frostbites
like handcuffs to your heart
or worst 
they gather together 
to support an angry sky

And drop dead onto your lap

One way or another 
Flakes or drops
always gets dry or withered
under time's relentless wings

You see...
eternity always wins the game
And it doesn't matter
whether you were a cloud or a rain

Passers both of them

II

There is a justice to the dirt
it confirms the mortality 
of the 'godish' complex
it also reassures the earth
of the flesh's vanity

Even the heart turns to dust
~ the heart that you kept your secret gardens ~
proving nature's revenge 
against human’s temporary feelings

Blood is just a future-dry well, my love
and nothing not even our dreams
will survive the infinitive's rage 

III

Life is like a naked graveyard
under death another life grows and expands
Always replacing the dead leaves 
with similar ones
~ similar not the same
but no one notices the difference ~
So, my love,
What’s the point to cut a fresh flower
when you already have yesterday’s death
to decorate your windows?

IV

I, slowly, come in terms
with what they call "finality"
I don't know if the word is correct
but I do know that time is measured
by what is broken

You can never un-done
the cup's fragmentation
it's against physic laws


but sometimes, yes sometimes,
I can't stop thinking of rewind
Imaging the cup whole again...


when I' ll stop then I will comprehend
the meaning of their word

V


I think it always have been
this specific time of the year
that I watched the butterflies
spread their wonderful wings
and the spiders finishing 
their unique web trap 
I always felt sorry for them
The spiders, I mean
It is not easy to kill 
the beauty and be proud of it

but I think that every now and then
we all change roles
Sometimes we are butterflies
and once in a while we are spiders

with the same result, mind you

If you are a spider
someone, someday 
will cut thru your heart's silky web

if you are butterfly
someone, someday
will rip your wings out
of your  fragile shoulders


So, my love, 

there is no difference to the role
you choose every season to play

even if you wished for it ...

VI

it seems that time and I
have a rendezvous 
every now and then 
It troubles me to think
the hours between the events
like a caterpillar waiting 
fot its glory tranformation

what is it think while it awaits?


like a telescope that brings your sight,
~ yes sir, thats the modern world ~
 near the sky
well, I hate to dissapoint you, love,
but that 'near' destroys it all
 And in this point to our misery story
between 'happening' comes the moth
a sleepy creature or an active mind?

Επίλογος

ξέρω πως ξαφνικά επικαλούμεθα
την οποιαδήποτε γλώσσα μαθαίναμε

ως μικρές κάμπιες
σαν να θέλουμε να δείξουμε 

στις υπόλοιπες κάμπιες
την δική μας μεταμόρφωση...

Η ουσία είναι ότι σε όποια γλώσσα
κι αν το κουκούλι σου χτίσεις 
Η ζωή δεν είναι τίποτα άλλο 
παρά ένα γυμνό νεκροταφείο
Για όποιο σημείο της πυκνά κατοικείται
υπάρχουν οι κάμπιες
Φροντίζουν

την εκκένωση του χώρου από τα παλιά

Βλέπεις, αγάπη μου, 

κάτω από την νεκρή ζωή
υπάρχει μια άλλη φωνακλού
που εξαπλώνεται και κυριαρχεί
πάνω σου, μέσα σου, δίπλα σου...


είτε έχεις σπάσει την κούπα
είτε την κοιτάς συνεπαρμένος
από την αντοχή της 


Maria Rodopoulou

Dark Virtual Poetry

Dark Virtual Poetry σημαίνει αποκάλυψη της Σκοτεινής Ανθρώπινης Πλευράς. Δεν στοχεύει στην Εσταύρωση Πιστεύω ούτε στη γελοιοποίηση Ηθών. Δεν υποκύπτει όμως στους συντηρητικούς ευνούχους, αξιολύπητα τέκνα μιας ανέραστης, νεκρής κοινωνίας. Δεν διαφημίζει , δεν ψάχνει για οπαδούς. Ίσα Ίσα τους απεχθάνεται . Ενδιαφέρεται Μόνο για αληθινούς φίλους αναγνώστες. Σκοπός της Μαρίας Ρ. η Απομυθοποίηση Ανθρώπων και Θεών.Δεν υπάρχει προορισμός και οι διαδρομές είναι ασχημάτιστες.

Η Γη πυρπολείται απο υπ-ανθρώπους αλλά εμείς ακόμα υπάρχουμε και κανείς δεν μπορεί να μας στερήσει τη ξιφολόγχη των λέξεων

Αλλά πάντα
υπάρχει το αύριο
που γεννά νέες προσδοκίες
νέα αινίγματα
νέα θαύματα

Σήμερα θ’ αρκεστούμε
στη σιωπή


Μ.Ρ
Οι υποτελείς μέρες
σπαταλώνται άνετα
στην αυτοτελή μας δυστυχία
καθώς τρέφονται
τα γύφτικα ερπετά
απ'την αυτάρκεια
του πόνου μας


Μ.Ρ.

Alex Papadiamantis

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