04 January 2013

Romenace


   
            I shall raise a toast, an old fashioned
                 of whiskey and angostura;
           Today, enough mad and passionate,
                 I know the scent of Datura.

           The tenth sip down, my teeth cold
                 I sense the caress of a ghost;
           Each thought bundled into a fold,
                 for a dream I serve as a host.

            I have this tendency, this quirk
                 of loving each and every apparition;
            Graham Greene once mark’d,
                 “you cannot love without intuition.”

             Between the lines, can you hear
                  me slurring not too wise;
             In an attempt to have you near,
                  I lay scribble in your eyes.

             Smell of fresh coffee, from the bar
                  wakes me up to hurl;
             What a stupendous dream you are,
                  I feel my heart unfurl!

01 January 2013

From 5 to 6

I usually do not write with “my own voice”, so consider this an exception to the laws of poetry. I am in Rome. I have been here for some time now, in exile from the winter wonderland of f-land. I have had enough time and warmth from the sun in the sky to go through the varieties of me, to come to the point where I can stand as one and scribble a note from the gathered forces of myself.

this year began with fireworks in Sydney. I was temporarily living in a white van, parked off the center near Stanmore. the situation I was in then was weird and heavy, with acute desperation bubbling under my reefed lungs. yet, as the skies around the skyscrapers glowed in beautiful sparkling lights and I inhaled some more around the center of the city where it was forbidden to drink alcohol, I knew I was going places. good places.

I was right, of course. I got to meet my death, shake hands with him, and since then I've realized I am less dangerous for the system alive. temporal mechanics and the workings of energies became embodied in my being, leading to many a satori I so wished for down in oz. the summer was the best in years. I read, worked and laid in the sun like never before.

the fall crawled in slow, and for the first time in years the darkness didn't push me off my mind. I kept on the steady pace of achievements, realizations - and good parties. to top it all off, out of all the weird loonies out there, I found someone who loves me as I am. or, rather, he found me. a weird face with two eyes one of which is looking straight into the aether half the time – bordering strabismus, mind you – wearing a manatee t-shirt, ready to dig some retarded musicians (really, retarded).

as the world ended a week or so ago, we were on top of Gianicolense, looking down on Rome. I was hoping to see everything in its past form left behind forever, replaced by a fluorescent hue that I know so well. nothing happened of course.

anyway. I thought I'd use these few moments I have before taking my sore body to the streets of the forever city to scribble this note to be posted from some cafeteria tomorrow when it's 2013. I also thought that I'd go through my dyslexic file for the past year to pick my favorite 12 shots from last year – shots of people. I'll do that now. ciao ciao!


shot an angel in a studio


a stranger enjoying techno


a stranger with a flare


leonard cohen


meeting a stormtrooper in the night


yours truly


a man from greenland in copenhagen, digging our art


on a reef with loved ones 


crashing a wine club


working men


a friend in love


high up

My photo
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