Παρασκευή, 22 Ιουνίου 2012

What is love? Baby don't Herz me, don't Herz me, no Morse

(Μέτα από τόσο καιρό αποφάσισα να γράφω στα ελληνικά)

Έγιναν πολλά τον τελευταίο χρόνο. Κάποια αδυνατώ να τα θυμηθώ, άλλα αποφάσισα να τα ξεχάσω. Το ζοφερό νέφος των Πανελληνίων (γιατί πρέπει να γράφεται με κεφαλαίο Π;) αποφάσισε να φύγει από πάνω μας και να μετακινηθεί στα επόμενα θύματα του εκπαιδευτικού συστήματος.

Οι εξετάσεις δεν αποτέλεσαν (ευτυχώς) την μόνη ενασχόληση μου την τελευταία χρονιά. Φιλίες δημιουργήθηκαν, φιλίες καταστράφηκαν ολοσχερώς. Αναμενόμενο, θα λεγε κανείς, όλα στη ζωή ακολουθούν μια σπειροειδή πορεία, στην οποία η αρχή ακολουθεί το τέλος και τούμπαλιν. Το γεγονός ότι δεν μπορώ να έχω τον έλεγχο για τα πάντα στη ζωή μου μου δημιουργεί ένα αίσθημα δυσφορίας. Ως κλασσικό κοντρόλ φρικ, φοβάμαι να αφήσω τα ηνία της ζωής μου στην τύχη/μοίρα, πόσο μάλλον να αφήσω κάποιον άλλο να με ελέγχει.

Και εδώ έρχεσαι εσύ.

Όσο περίεργο και αν ακούγεται, ποτέ δεν αγάπησα, ποτέ δεν ένιωσα τον έρωτα μέσα μου, όλο μου το είναι να περιστρέφεται γύρω από κάποιο άτομο.

Ούτε τώρα είμαι ερωτευμένη, νομίζω θα το χα καταλάβει αν είμουν. Όχι, όχι δεν γίνεται, είναι αδύνατον. Μπέρδεμα, ναι αυτό χαρακτηρίζει τα συναισθήματα μου αυτή τη στιγμή. Μισώ όταν τα πράγματα δεν είναι ξεκάθαρα, αλλά μάλλον ζητάω πολλά.

Υποθέτω ότι σε ένα μήνα θα ξέρω.


Παρασκευή, 15 Ιουλίου 2011

Ten Little Soldier Boys

I first discovered that back in 2006. It's still engraved in my memory.


Ten little soldier boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were Nine.

Nine little soldier boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there was Eight.

Eight little soldier boys travelling to Devon;
One said he stayed there and then there were Seven.

Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six.

Six little soldier boys playing with a hive;
A bumble bee stung one and then there were Five.

Five little soldier boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were Four.

Four little soldier boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.

Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were Two.

Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was One.

One little soldier boy left all alone;
He went and hanged himself

And then there were None.


Πέμπτη, 7 Ιουλίου 2011

Existential Neurosis (Prologue)

Ok so I begun rewriting a story originally conceived something like two years ago. I didn't like my first attempt and so I'm writing it again! This is the prologue, I hope you enjoy :)




Prologue

If one were to defy the elements of time and space, he might have been able to come across a mahogany door appearing to float in mid air. However since that place did not follow the laws of the three-dimensional spectrum, the door would merely exist for it was neither mater nor anti-mater.

In this hypothetical situation the person, who wouldn’t consist of any known human elements, would open the door that does not creek, only to come across a dimly light room. Its light source were five cream-coloured candles, secured on the surface of the walls with scones. One on each side of the door, one on the opposite wall, and one on each of the facing walls. Some would acclaim that the existence of light, as well as the room,  was absurd, for mater would cease to exist outside the mahogany door. Others would call it magic. Neither of those groups would be entirely mistaken nor correct. After all, both the absurd and magic exist, in their own special ways, in the majority of dimensions.

If the person that entered the room accepted, or merely dismissed, the irrationality of the situation, his sight would wander around the room. The walls were painted to resemble medieval art.  Someone experienced with that period’s art might have recognized it as Hans Memling’s “The Last Judgment”. However it didn’t take an expert to realize the message conveyed from it. People are judged by God, with Archangel Michael condemning the sinners to an eternity in Hell with demons and their agonizing screams as a company, and the pure, whose sins were not great, were sent to serve in Heaven.


At some point the person would have to avert his gaze from the Christian Eschatology painting to explore the rest of the room. His eyes would travel to the ceiling, where no chandelier seemed to hung, to the wooden floor where books were scattered in a chaotic fashion. The person would probably raise a book from the ground only to find out that in contained no words, no pictures, just paper that had become yellow over the course of time. The book would be placed down on the floor at its original place and the exploration would continue.

As the person’s sight adjusted he would clearly see a bundle lying on the floor. Whilst approaching it he would stop dead on his tracks as the bundle moved ever so slightly.

This hypothetical situation unfolded often. I’ve lost count of the number of times it has happened.

Today was no exception.

I opened the door that does not creek and entered the room without making a sound. Keeping my gaze on the wooden floor I trod carefully not to step on the books, without acknowledging the intruder’s presence. After all the man needed a sense of security provided by his supposed invisibility to my eyes. This logic is buried in the human childhood, when the children thought that by being covered by a blanket they would be invisible to the bogey-man under the bed, thus maintaining their safety.

I reached the moving bundle that was covered by a wool blanket, with the colour of coal. I knelt  before it and raised the blanket slightly with the tips of my bare fingers. Below it lied a girl, no older than twenty years. Her hair was a deep red colour with copper undertones. It was quite long and slightly wavy.

I observed her, from her ivory skin, down to her bare, slender neck. My eyes stopped at her clavice where an Ω had been carved, leaving behind a soft pink mark. Her chest was rising and falling rhythmically.

I turned my gaze back to her face. Her rosy pink lips were slightly parted leaving a small gap where the air from her lungs was exhaled in the room.

I was a bit reluctant to disturb her slumber but I knew I had to. I always did.

And so I lowered my upper body and planted  a soft kiss on her warm forehead.

She let out a few small noises and opened her eyes groggily.

I raised my head and met her gaze. Her green eyes seemed to be still hazy from the sleep she lusted to regain. After a second she focused her gaze on my eyes and smiled.

“I was hoping I could get a few more minutes of sleep, you know? My sleep cycle is way too corrupted for my tastes.” she playfully scolded me as she raised herself to a sitting position with her legs crossed tossing the blanket to her side. Her garment consisted of a petrol nightgown that covered her arms above her elbows and reached just below her kneecaps.

“You’ll get used to it. Mine is practically non-existent.” I said chuckling. She smirked at my comment. As she stretched her head her glimpse caught the third person in the room. Her grin became wider and turned her head with her eyes boring into mine.

“You have a job for me...” she stated. I nodded.

“Indeed I do.” I told her.

“V. status?” she asked as she rubbed her neck with her left hand, briefly touching the scar and then bringing it down, tangling her fingers together.

“N.D.E. while O.D with Ecstasy .25 years of age. No previous contact.” I said in a monotonous voice.

She sighed. “Was there any reason?”

“Nope, he was at a party. He just went too far.” I replied

She rubbed her temples with her fingers.

“The Client is waiting outside.” I continued.

She nodded and we both stood up. We turned our attention to the third person in the room, who was now shaking.

She formed a warm smile with her lips.

“Hello there!” she exclaimed happily.

“Um... Hey.. S-sorry for getting in I-I was lost,  I think.” he muttered nervously.

“Don’t fret around such meaningless issues. You are here that’s all that matters.” she told him grinning.

The man was still scared despite her jubilant demeanor.

“Come on, you don’t have to be so shy.” she giggled, “Walk with me, let us leave this dreadful room. It makes me a bit depressed.” she exclaimed as she she stretched out her hand.
The man stood still for a few seconds before realizing that the woman wouldn’t hurt him and concluded that this was all just a dream.

He took hold of her outstretched hand. She smiled satisfied and lead him to a dark brown door in the corner of room. The man found it a bit strange that the door wasn’t there before, but he shunned the thought reminding himself that he was in a dream, thus the laws of the human world ceased to exist.

I smiled bitterly as the duo exited the door. Knowing that she wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours, I searched with my eyes the pile of books lying on the floor. I found the book that I was looking for and I picked it up. It was strange, it was the only book I’ve been reading everyday for the past days yet it somehow managed to remain dusty, the next day after I would wipe it. I blew out the dust and cleared the remains with my left hand.

The book was ordinary looking and quite old. The engraving on the burgundy cover had faded long ago. I opened the book at a random page. It was blank. As I concentrated words begun to appear on the yellow pages in an old-fashion,  handwritten font.  I let my eyes wander on the words, savouring their meaning and eventually getting lost in the story.

Τετάρτη, 15 Ιουνίου 2011

I ache for the touch of your lips ,dear, But much more for the touch of your whips, dear....



My beloved dearest... How much I long for you.
I wish to become the blood running in your veins,   the air in your lungs...

Haha no, this is not what it sounds like. The above is based on a conversation I had with my friend :) (and neither of us would be actually considered as a romantic person...)

Sometimes I just sit and listen to the song "The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer (video posted above).
I understand that's it's satire in its purest, bluntest form, and I love every minute of it.

Why should love be associated with red roses, and pink bubbles, confining the lovers in their own imaginary world? Let us be realistic, life is not a road paved with flower petals. If it were we would be unsatisfied with our lives.

One that has never felt pain and agony cannot appreciate the small joys of life.

~~~

I love my friends, they've been besides me at the roughest times of my life.
I have yet to experience romantic love. After all why should I rush? Life's ahead of me (well of course nothing guarantees that I won't die, say, tomorrow).

I prefer not to fret over issues like these. After all if I always worry about finding my true love, I will shun away the simple joys and the wonderful times I'll have with my friends.

~~~

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the masochism tango.

Say our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say it's me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the masochism tango.

At your command
Before you here I stand,
My heart is in my hand. ecch!
It's here that I must be.
My heart entreats,
Just hear those savage beats,
And go put on your cleats
And come and trample me.
Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany,
That's why I'm in such exquisite agony.

My soul is on fire,
It's aflame with desire,
Which is why I perspire
When we tango.

You caught my nose
In your left castanet, love,
I can feel the pain yet, love,
Ev'ry time I hear drums.
And I envy the rose
That you held in your teeth, love,
With the thorns underneath, love,
Sticking into your gums.

Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches.
The last time I needed twenty stitches
To sew up the gash
That you made with your lash,
As we danced to the masochism tango.

Bash in my brain,
And make me scream with pain,
Then kick me once again,
And say we'll never part.
I know too well
I'm underneath your spell,
So, darling, if you smell
Something burning, it's my heart.
Excuse me!

Take your cigarette from it's holder,
And burn your initials in my shoulder.
Fracture my spine,
And swear that you're mine,
As we dance to the masochism tango.

~~

Have a wonderful summer :)

Τετάρτη, 16 Ιουνίου 2010

Sound Horizon FTW!!!

Sound Horizon is a japanese folk metal/fantasy/neoclassical metal band that I discovered yesterday... They're awesome!!!! I'm totally in love with their album "Moira" (Fate in Greek...) Here's their site
and here's a video of my favorite song from them


Enjoy <3

Δευτέρα, 7 Ιουνίου 2010

Lyrics and their influence...Part 1

In this post I'll mention some of the lyrics that have a huge impact on my life as well as videos with the songs. Ahem, let's begin:

Current 93 - A Gothic Love Song

I'm clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight
That actually existed just in your head
Your fingernails painted black
Or bloodred
I forget

And your fake-leather volumes
Jabbering on hell
Manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail
Your eyes tried so hard to glitter

A star-snuffing black
So you opened your books
And you opened your legs
And so opened your heart
And let in the badness
You claimed
As your friend
With un-angels hovering
Like flies round the orchard
That had covered your soul
Their empire increasing
And your country
Deserted by yourself

The bells of St. Mary call us to remember
That life is with end
And the gestures can kill us
Moreover destroy
And there is one judgment only

Your letters came daily
In French or in German
But they meant to me nothing
I caught the slow cords
And dry ice fogging your mind
I see all too clearly now
Why you could be discarded
And though I could pray for you
I probably shan`t
Having had my cup filled up
With your lies
And your makeup
You were nothing
Thinking you`re something

And nonetheless I still write this gothic lovesong
A sign to myself
And the memory of my past
I still write this gothic lovesong
And the memory of my past

And a way to shut out your face

This song has probably the most influence on me... It speaks of how fake people are, trying to be somebody they're not....



Bauhaus - Mask

The man of shadows thinks in clay
Dreamed trapped thoughts of suffocation day
He's seen in iron environments
With plastic sweat out of chiselled slits for eyes

From the growth underneath the closed mouth
You'll catch if you listen
Rack-trapped cubist vowels
From a dummy head expression
From a dummy head expression

The transformation is invested
With the mysterious and the shameful
While the thing I am becomes something else
Part character part sensation

The shadow is cast



Not much to say on this... It describes how I feel most of the time :/


Metallica - One

I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel to scream
This terrible silence stops me

Now that the war is through with me
I'm waking up, I cannot see
That there is not much left of me
Nothing is real but pain now

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, wake me

Back in the womb it's much too real
In pumps life that I must feel
But can't look forward to reveal
Look to the time when I'll live

Fed through the tube that sticks in me
Just like a wartime novelty
Tied to machines that make me be
Cut this life off from me

Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, wake me

Now the world is gone, I'm just one
Oh God help me
Hold my breath as I wish for death
Oh please God, help me

Darkness imprisoning me
All that I see
Absolute horror
I cannot live
I cannot die
Trapped in myself
Body my holding cell

Landmine has taken my sight
Taken my speech
Taken my hearing
Taken my arms
Taken my legs
Taken my soul
Left me with life in hell


*sigh* sometimes I feel trapped inside my body, unable to utter a single word, when I have no connection to reality...





Τετάρτη, 2 Ιουνίου 2010

Tears of Mirth

Wrists bound tight, eyes blindfolded.
One is sitting down, another staring in wonder.
Tears of mirth; they come from the laughter,
as this reality begins to shutter.
He hears a voice inside his ear,
and starts losing what he holds dear.
The voice speaks: You have failed.
The mouth is muffled, the hear prevailed.
Insanity is engulfing him, logic fades away.
The end is near him, this life drains away...