Monday, March 20, 2017
Thursday, March 2, 2017
Gods save the Queen
Queen conch steps out of her pink solitude
Its about time for pray and prey
She feels the immense blue deep inside
Stretches out her long tentacle eyes in search of the unknown
Three hundred and sixty degrees of separation divide her i’s
Its been seven long years in this shell
From them, three and a half as a girl.
She thinks of time in waves
Her home as her own body
Is it shelter, is it a cell ?
She had fun days its its darkness thats for sure
And her cave is still soft and alive
if she stays moist, they can both survive two more lives
Become a real queen
but where - to what domain?
Her freedom has always been being misplaced
Migration is just any other day
Whatever it takes she anticipates it is warm and shallow
Another Odyssey with the sea written all over her
She clutches her lip when thinking of stories told
Linking ancient memories to licking sea veggies for ages
She thinks things long and crystal clear only after dark
When supple sounds from afar dissolve into ripples
Easy listening on the right night
She patiently awaits for that late tide to arrive,
Wipe her clean and transcend her to a vast green
Vast, wild and unknown are just names for an ocean she calls life.
She knows any safety instructions are now intractable
Its a jungle up there where water mirrors straight dry lines
Forever laying low she wants to remain,
So many wet dreams still left untold.
That glorious new beginning is just a strong wave away
All it takes is the courage to be carried off and whirl in its grace
Arrive to her long lost prodigious kingdom, after all.
All her destinies, contingent to unforeseen forces she cant even name
She is scared of a stillness she never sensed before
Forever alone and home bound
She has to come to terms with her mysterious fate.
She trusts her profound intuition to go slow within the flow
Buries her rebellious feelings in the sand for another day.
Her cries for freedom still muffled by the currents
Only bubbles hear her struggle and the weight of her privileged name.
Monday, February 27, 2017
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Instructions for Happiness / Curated by Severin Dünser, Olympia Tzortzi
Shell with internal soundtrack
KUP, Athens, 2016
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Two musician and a performer go on stage.
The rest is depends solely on the moment and synesthesia.
The music embraces the words the words love the music.
Some duet of feelings and serendipity wants to evolve.
Keyboards Yiannis Loukos
Viola Eleftheria Togia
Performer Natasha Papadopoulou
Go wild in your virtual abyss.
Oh miss internet user i miss the dance i need to exist.
Now a frozen mega-bite
My new wants are set automatically,
auto-locked auto-saved over worked.
i eat overcooked expectations and their derivatives while Deleuze is delousing my i but no …
i don't want the same as u do.
Stay in a dark place and think.
Check in' in a professional manner,
copy paste and multiply and send far far away.
Colonialism at the age of no return
No potatoes no black jack
no jack potatoes on couch mode only soft pillows are real here
everything else, a simulation with no scent attached.
(missing text )
…the information was misspelled unchewed and mistranslated.
The revolution will never leave the text.
A re-evolution needs a good back up.
It's long missing in those days when the air was spicy,
inhaling inspiration outdoors.
But, out there is a too cold or too hot.
So stay online and have some appetising thoughts.
You may, keep your memos and screenshots in order.
Order in, stay in and wild out.
A liquid version of internet could be the cock tail for the future,
but the cock need a chromosome Y and and an egg
i only need an i and and an eye
Individualism when peripheral vision is out of sync
Why bother with the surround sound
My mother tongue is mute,
i just press random play,
is all somewhere in my home made disk,
is all in my hard core drive ´
and i play hard to get it,
i repeat and reload and replay.
Oh replay, everyday
Everyday looks the same on my screen.