Facing the Laelaps

Calm down! He doesn't go! 
But he won't lose neither
 Himself anymore ... 
To life will he always 
Be your inspiration. 
You 'll be drifted by him! 

To the  thief Laelaps  wouldn't

Offer  a victory. 
He didn't need you that way. 
Laelaps was so jealous 
With fierce heat to grab you! 
Now he doesn't care at all ... 
There aren't really only 
The hands that need to touch, 
Or the body that craves ... 
There is the heart delight. 
In the name of moments, 
You intensively shared. 
He needs you even so. 
In his bizarre species
Special is the contact  
With your existence 
It will be comforting. 
Acknowledge this to him.
 You allowed this to him.
 By simple tender pity.
You heard him miserable
 To howl like a wolf 
In his desert evenings. 
What a tyrannic remorse!
He slowly realized 
The bitter truth ... 
You tried to reach him 
Tragically against
Your own destiny.
 Here are they paid
All those crimes, however. 
An obol to him too
Soon or later (alas!)
The brutal Laelaps.
Shall demand as well.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laelaps_(mythology)

Laelaps, the dog in The Death of Procris, Piero di Cosimo

Laelaps the dog who never failed to catch what he was hunting once had to catch the Teumessian fox that could never be caught. But Procris lay among the white wind-flowers, Shot in the throat. From out the little wound The slow blood drained, as drops in autumn showers Drip from the leaves upon the sodden ground. None saw her die but Lelaps, the swift hound, That watched her dumbly with a wistful fear, Till at the dawn, the hornèd wood-men found And bore her gently on a sylvan bier, To lie beside the sea,—with many an uncouth tear. Austin Dobson: Old World Lyrics.

Laelaps the dog who never failed to catch what he was hunting once had to catch the
Teumessian fox that could never be caught.

But Procris lay among the white wind-flowers,
Shot in the throat. From out the little wound
The slow blood drained, as drops in autumn showers
Drip from the leaves upon the sodden ground.
None saw her die but Lelaps, the swift hound,
That watched her dumbly with a wistful fear,
Till at the dawn, the hornèd wood-men found
And bore her gently on a sylvan bier,
To lie beside the sea,—with many an uncouth tear.
Austin Dobson: Old World Lyrics.

Λέξεις γραμμένες στην άμμο από έναν αθώο ΓΑΣΤΟΝ ΜΠΑΚΕΡΟ (Κουβανός ποιητής)

Λέξεις γραμμένες στην άμμο από έναν αθώο
Οι δράκοι που ακροπατούν γιατί κοιμάται ο Αι Γιώργης.
Ονειρευόμαστε και κοιμόμαστε στο θανατερό όνειρο τα όνειρα του θανάτου.
Δώσε μας χρόνο γι' αυτό. Δώσε μας χρόνο. Εσύ μόνο είσαι αυτός
που ονειρεύεται.

Όχι. Δεν ονειρεύομαι εγώ τη ζωή,
εμένα ονειρεύεται εκείνη,
και σαν το όνειρο με λησμονεί,
η ψυχή μου ξεχασμένη θα απομείνει.

VII
Πορεύονται πεζή στις έξι το πρωί.
Θα μπορούσατε να κάνετε λίγη ησυχία;
Η γη κουράστηκε να υπάρχει.
Μέρα τη μέρα αλέθοντας άκαρπα με τον άξονα της.
Μέρα τη μέρα ακούγοντας τους θεούς να εμπαίζουν τους ανθρώπους.
Δεν ξέρετε να την ακούτε, γυρνά και γογγύζει.
Νομίζετε ότι ακούτε τις καμπάνες, ενώ είναι η γη που γογγύζει.
Τραβήξτε τα αθώα χέρια σας από την ακρογιαλιά.
Μη γράφετε. Μην υπάρχετε. Μη σκέπτεστε.
Αγαπάτε αν επιθυμείτε, και ποιος νοιάζεται;
Δεν είστε εσείς που αγαπούν, κατανοήστε το, αρνηθείτε ευγενικά.
Σκεφθείτε τα άστρα και σκαρφιστείτε μερικούς αστερισμούς.
Μιλήστε για ό,τι θέλετε, αλλά μην πείτε το πραγματικό τους όνομα.
Μην ψηλαφίζετε το φάντασμα κάτω από το πετσί σας.
Μην αποκριθείτε στο όνομα ενός μνήματος. Αρνηθείτε να πεθάνετε.

Παραιτηθείτε.
Συμφιλιωθείτε.
Μη μιλάτε για το θάνατο, μη μιλάτε για το σώμα, μη μιλάτε για το κάλλος.
Για να πλέουν τα καράβια,
Για να κινούνται οι πέτρες και να μιλάνε τα δέντρα.
Για να δυναμώσει η κάπως παλαιά συνήθεια του θανάτου,
Ας ανέβουν ήσυχα οι αμαζόνες το λευκό ποτάμι των μαλλιών 
τους.




Δημοσιεύτηκε από τον κ.Γιώργο Τσιρώνη στην FB ομάδα Ήχος και Λόγος

http://www.anvari.org/cols/Sand_Art.html

PANIC by Chryssa Velissariou, Saturday, January 22, 2011 at 9:58 a.m.

What are you doing

Here right now?

Ιn my sick present,

My killed future?

Waiting for the lights to go green, Subhankar Das

I live in a place where you can
rent a baby by the hour
and pinch their asses
to make them howl
as you approach the cars for alms
stuck on the crossroads
and waiting for the lights to go green.
I live in a place where
this poet calls up in the morning and
starts complaining about my poem
where I expressed my surprise to see my father
jerking off in his sleep.
Must be another one from the league
who burns incense sticks in front of Goddess Kali and Marx
hanging side by side on the wall.
I live in a place where the politicians
are thinking to give the place a facelift
and turn it to London.
And we at the roadside tea stalls
with local hooch mixed with orange juice
to cut down the foul smell
testing like champagne
drinking it all up
to help us through the prayer
in front of all these living legends.

Subhankar Das is a poet, bookstore owner, translator of Allen Ginsberg’s poetry into in Bangla, and a good friend of the Macabre from Kolkata, India.
ANOTHER ORDINARY DAY BY SUBHANKAR DAS


Ζω σε ένα μέρος όπου μπορείτε να
νοικιάσετε ένα μωρό με την ώρα
και να τσιμπάτε τα οπίσθιά τους
για να τα κάνετε να ουρλιάξουν
καθώς πλησιάζετε τα αυτοκίνητα για ελεημοσύνη
κολλημένοι στα σταυροδρόμια
και περιμένοντας το φανάρι να γίνει πράσινο.
Ζω σε ένα μέρος όπου
αυτός ο ποιητής καλεί πρωί πρωί και
αρχίζει να διαμαρτύρεται για το ποίημα μου
όπου εξέφρασα την έκπληξή μου να βλέπω τον πατέρα μου
να τινάζεται στον ύπνο του.
Πρέπει να είναι άλλος ένας από την λεγεώνα
που καίει μπαστούνια θυμίαμα μπροστά στη θεά Κάλι και τον Μαρξ
που κρέμονται δίπλα-δίπλα στον τοίχο.
Ζω σε ένα μέρος όπου οι πολιτικοί
σκέφτονται να κάνουν στον τόπο ένα λίφτινγκ
που θα τον μετατρέψει σε Λονδίνο.
Και εμείς στην άκρη του δρόμου σε υπαίθριους πάγκους τσαγιού
με τοπικά μεθυστικά ποτά αναμιγνύουμε  χυμό πορτοκαλιού
για να περιοριστεί η αποκρουστική μυρωδιά
δοκιμάζοντάς τα, όπως τη σαμπάνια
πίνοντας άσπρο πάτο
για να μας βοηθήσουν κατά την προσευχή
μπροστά σε όλους αυτούς τους ζωντανούς θρύλους.

Ο Subhankar Das είναι ένας ποιητής, ιδιοκτήτης βιβλιοπωλείου, μεταφραστής της ποίησης του Allen Ginsberg για την Bangla, και καλός φίλος του Macabre τηςΚαλκούτας, στην Ινδία. 
ΜΙΑ ΑΚΟΜΑ ΣΥΝΗΘΙΣΜΕΝΗ ΜΕΡΑ ΤΟΥ SUBHANKAR DASβιβλιοπωλείου

 Μετάφραση: Χρύσα Βελησσαρίου

ANGELIC MADE

You stare straight

In the eyes

With your velvet

Honey look

You didn't see

The ugliness yet

You smells wonder

Like white roses

Proudly when

You 're throwing

The tentacles

On your shoulders

As tenderly

You 're touching me

As you kiss

my tired hands

And I desire

To offer you

The bright stars

In the skies

You may walk

Together with

Other seedlings

In the bloody

Neighborhoods

Of the wind

Bittersweet tears

Will you pour

On the love's way...

I won't be there,

My sweetheart,

To hold your hand...

To guide you...

How it hurt

Me before

To you to

Testify...

I 'm not alowed

to help you.

In there just

You go alone!

And weak, you

Never return ...

Adele Adkins - Hiding my heart (with lyrics on screen)

BURNOUT

I'm a wreck!
I don't know why ...
Is this suicide?
I love life!
But I don't live ...
I'm exhausted ...
I do not sleep ...
I'm sleepy,
But I insist
I lament what
Is not lost.
I search that
I  possessed ...
I 'm afraid of you!
You judge me
All the time
Distinguished
I want to show ...
I 'm punishing
My own needs ...
For that vengeance
Will take nature.
By converting
My body
In this monstrous
Abortion
Μotionless 
Ιn acedia
I look at
My image
Ιn my conscience
Sincere mirror
And icy
I hate it
I 'm looking
Just blindly
For an exit
From this spiral
I call for help
but I've been
Left alone
You are too weak
You can not stand
It  anymore
To hold me.
I'm unbearable ...
Urgently
I ask for
My own Light!

GAEA 'S WRATH

http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e394/cgaddict/ladygaia.jpg

I protect my children under my long dresses... I walk on my toes not to be found hiding them! I bewail with bloodstained nails And I'm howling for the dead- For the unfairly lost ones! Ι hallo the full blue moon with a wild yell-o-yell! "Why did you sow both Cain and Abel - my relentless twin sons - in my cursed womb on the nights when I was quenching your thirst with wet cravings?" How can I conciliate violence and chastity which both had been planted in their souls instinctively? How can I be fair in defending both my broods furiously? My eyes are spitting fire tongues! The Mother who gave Birth feels HATE indeed! ! Infanticide! I will slaughter the invaders! I germinate Revenge straight out of the ground! The tender earnest virgin mutates into a brutal courtesan I become two-headed and rigorous in emergency A Medusa just to punish my guilty offspring who should give back to me only Honour and Glory...

I HAVE A COMPLAINT!

I have a complaint ...
You didn't say the truth! 
Perhaps to protect me?
"My baby puppet, you're mine..." you said
"You're the one for me from now on", I declared
You're walking in the night
I stare the ceiling
Do you  wish to be someone else
not to spoil our dream?
But look! Don't you know?
This is the way it is now

I 'm so afraid 
you might not accept our situation anymore!
That's why I get angry ...
Because to say the truth for once
you wanted me whithout my context
You always made me feel you accepted me with it though

I shared your internal pain.
I loved your crying.
I was prepared from the start to live with it
I got open to you, I 've been  given to you
You anointed me as if I was just a "stranger" 

Yes, I have this big complaint!
You never said the truth to me
Although you knew
this gonna last no way this way
You knew I was thinking otherway
You knew you are afraid to stay
You accept our situation no more...

LOVE TRAGEDY

Smoke wears out her ...
She wishes to disappear!
Not to remain alive ...
Parody is survive!

They could have sold their soul
For all that she has built
people who are alone
In North, South, East and West.

Crazy ingratitude!
So many laws fails she ...
Cause the door of her heart
Closed guarded not she ...

Hard is she tormented.
The case is really lost.
She felt it when it started.
Even then she persists.

It was always mutual,
She felt so fine, so great!
But didn't come as usual
when it would be appropriate!

She would give everything
With him to restart being.
Caught up with them the fate
Walls between them were made.

Tough is she punished
Feels as if she will die ...
Down into his grave
She's not aloud to go and lie ...

She would want to be lost
In a tight embrace with him.
In life if they still stay,
They should live away.

Enigma is the nature
Of the human creature ...
In the Eros  quarrel
Logic is a shrapnel!

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/1-trust-in-love-beth-budesheim.html