deepundergroundpoetry.com

Memories In Black And White (Theodora's Song)

Footnotes on top:
 
1. My first attempt at writing a poem in English, 20 years ago.
2. The marbles in the London museum refer to the stolen Parthenon Marbles held captive there against their will.
3. Elgin: British Lord Elgin, the thief! (Stole them in the beginning of 19th century)
4: Antigone: Sophocles' heroine, one of the first to consciously commit an act of civil disobedience... and, more, much more than that.
 
 
 
I stood by the music,
next to it, close to it and yet, outside it.
I heard its pauses. or, was it my silence...
 
Unfazed, I stood at its side
unconcerned about protocol,
circumstance, historical condition.
Recovered principles determined my disposition.
 
There was once a lady I knew
her name was a letter of the alphabet.
Her skin was pale and smooth
and she had principles...
 
I stood by the rainbow
as its colors were fading.
I entered its condemned vision.
I stood at its side
bearing memories in black and white,
colorless and color blind.
 
Hopes that were slim stood even slimmer
as twenty centuries went by,
but, I had chosen to dim the lights
and care for the tender cries
of those made of heart and mind.
 
There was once a lady I knew.
Her senses were null, her body numb.
Her skin by herself untouched,
her future hunted by her past.
Her name sprang from my palate
and she had principles...
 
I stood by the marbles of open air
in that prison they call museum at a London Square.
Nudity frozen under air conditioning lights.
Behind bars their slow death I died
chained to their melancholic fright.
 
I saw Elgin, the lord of Apes,
the key-keeper of this Dark Age.
He was on top of a mount of pounds
buying and selling worlds profound.
 
There was once a boy I knew
whom I played and bathed with.
His wooden sword had slayed the witch.
The boy's name I cannot recall
but, he had principles, I'm sure
and his soft touch I still can feel.
 
I stood by Antigone
on the stage of her absolute solitude,
inside the tomb of her choice,
within her flight to freedom.
Alone as ever, alone as she,
fixed my eyes at her ascent to that future human state
only few have ever seen.
 
She didn't scream, she didn't cry.
All the directors have been lying.
She just quietly allowed herself to die
standing on principle and acquiring essence.
 
There was once a lady I loved.
She had a thing about chocolate.
Her name
 
T erra
H ecuba
E ros
O ffering
D reamy
O phelia
R aging
A nastasia
 
Her scent would send me to worlds untold
her skin was the whitest of pale.
She had flesh of mouthwatering taste
and she had principles...
 
There was once a not so funny clown
who closed his act with a song he'd cry out:
 
"Let it slide, let it slide.
Blow her face up on a slide.
See the  memories go down the slide..."  
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