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Godly Justice

Shadows in their solace can have a room a sofa, or nothing! Can have water a piece of bread or nothing! They hang their curiosity over balconies buildings or gorges! They are blasted by “friendly bombs”! Read more Diasporic Literature »

Three in one

You must never walk behind me, for I may not lead you the right way. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Το προσφυγόπουλο και η Μάσκα μου

Είμαι ηθοποιός, κατά βάθος πολιτικός, στο καμαρίνι λύνω σταυρόλεξο, ψάχνω πράσινα άλογα, χαζεύω στην τηλεόραση. Ένας σπουργίτης ραμφίζει το τζάμι μου να δω τις ειδήσεις: ένα παιδάκι ξαγρυπνά μπρος στα πτώματα των γονιών του, μετά το ανεβάζουν σε βάρκα, προσφυγόπουλο το βγάζει η θάλασσα στην άμμο για αιώνιο ύπνο, στην τσεπούλα του ένα τετράδιο όπου έγραψε: ‘Θα σας καταγγείλω όλους στον Θεούλη μου…’ Read more Diasporic Literature »

Antigone!

I first saw you, by the sea shore... Oh, Antigone! Your white robe, soiled made your face unbearably pale! There was a heavy earthy smell in the air, that of a burial site! Read more Diasporic Literature »

At the Metro Station

I clamber down the stairs to Argiroupole metro station, heading to work, in central Athens. She’s sitting in one of the benches there, dark-skinned, dark-haired, probably a Roma, in her twenties. A long, limp pony tail, a shabby, red T-shirt, a flared, flowery skirt, tattered flip-flops. An equally scruffy two or three-year-old boy is wringing out of her grasp. Read more Diasporic Literature »

On the Phone

‘I know you and dad wanted something else for me but- Yeah, a rich, pot-bellied prince. You think mine is a frog, eh? He loves me to bits, mum; he really cares, that’s what matters.’ Sonia punches the pen’s tip fast against the notepad on the coffee table, peppering the white sheet with inky dots. ‘We’ll find something to eat. He’ll get a job. Read more Diasporic Literature »

You Reap what you Sow

Tzoras jots down the date of the primary school students’ last excursion this year. A week before his son’s University entrance exams. He couldn’t possibly be absent from this critical moment in his son’s life. He unlocks the top desk drawer and takes out a deck of cards with famous actresses on he’d bought on an educational trip to Thessaloniki. He counts them. Fifty one. One’s missing. Fingers move deep into the drawer, through grade books and the register, under the desk pad. Nowhere. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Children

Give children as little as a smile and they will smile back at you. Give them your hand and they will stretch out to reach you. Read more Diasporic Literature »

An Awesome Ride

The bus is crammed; people jostle in the aisle, swinging hither and thither at the driver’s sudden brakes and swerves. A baby howls, an old lady flaps her fan against her flushed face. Then the bus stops. It takes a while. An armed soldier gets off to inspect the road. Pitch dark. A roar is heard, a gunshot. The second soldier follows suit. He never comes back. The passengers stare out the window and at each other alert. Somebody knocks on the front door. The driver opens and a man, face distorted, reddish saliva dripping down his bloodied teeth - a zombie - bursts in, lunges at whomever he comes across, bites them hard on the neck. Screams and moans fill the bus. The ones that have been bitten become infected and maul the ones sitting next to them until everyone, except for the driver, runs amok, becomes a zombie. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Oath / Όρκος

He stood at the edge of the old castle’s parapet below it the hungry abyss and even lower the gleaming sea ready to splash its first wave onto the yellow soft sandy beach when he raised his arm as if taking an oath as if promising to come back at another time when we’d need one to stand against the greed and gluttony of the few who comfortable and fat dwelled in their satiation. Read more Diasporic Literature »

My Greece

A piece of my life, in a tight embrace is my splendid land, my living place. A westerly wind makes my spirits rise for this earth, Athina’s paradise. The sparkling water and shadowy cave your mind and body will now enslave, your very soul will be captured too in the swirls of foam from a sea so blue. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Country stint

Come Up on a white multi-peaked mountain To search and find our warmest shelters Among the charred remains of January's winter Ensuring our tokens of slavery are not erased. Only but a few tracks stay out of our bustle city And on the snow that just fell Like a crafty veil, a tight fit Around our worn out shoes Prompting us to forget all past traditions And find some foreign thoughts That spread across a nature gone wild. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Kiki Dimoula/Κική Δημουλά

Draw two columns one for the day’s gains and one for its losses. The serious concepts your bright thoughts and readings your from one side to the other unsparing passages mark on the column of the gains. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Home

no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark you only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well your neighbours running faster than you breath bloody in their throats the boy you went to school with who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory is holding a gun bigger than his body you only leave home when home won’t let you stay. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Το δάκρυ της Γης

τα λόγια χάθηκαν σε μιά στιγμή στο σκότος στο αίμα αθώων, που χρωστάνε τη ζωή...σε ποιόν; Γιατί πληρώνουν τόσο ακριβά, το βλέμμα , την ανάσα, τη ζωή, i have been ,and these are what my prayers look like; Dear God !! Read more Diasporic Literature »

Yannis Ritsos - Γιάννης Ρίτσος

He had no time – how could he listen? Fighting for his bread he didn’t see that the wheat ear grew tickling the sun’s ear he didn’t see the blond mustache of summer he didn’t see that he also grew. Read more Diasporic Literature »

The Melancholy of Love

Love always dwells in melancholy but oft-times saddens itself even more from the fear of a loss caused by folly and of a heart that the Fates forswore. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Five-Seven-Five

O mega, don’t mourn! You shall surely be reborn as a new Alpha.[] Because nobody is perfect, I am so glad I am… Nobody. [] Read more Diasporic Literature »

The Black Cadillac

The big black Cadillac rides again inside our neighborhood the small domain, it carries dangers and many sins and people with infernal wings. Read more Diasporic Literature »

A second chance

There are some things in life I shared with people that I lived for years, but voices could never dare to speak for feelings and for fears. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Katerina Gogou-Κατερίνα Γώγου

Time will come when things will change remember this, Maria do you remember that game during the intermission when we run holding the baton —don’t look at me — don’t cry. You are the hope listen, time will come when children will select their parents they won’t be born at random Read more Diasporic Literature »

The Mushroom

The mushroom is swelling in a fair distance … above. We are watching speechless. The agony overpowered any other feeling. It is happening… No place to hide… nor to escape to! Read more Diasporic Literature »

The Spider

‘Mum! Look! A spider! Kill it!’ Belly still working on my web, I goggle down at the small boy’s pink finger pointing at me like a huge, wriggling worm. Oh, no, I think. I’ ve been spinning this web in a corner of the kitchen ceiling for ages and this little bugger here wants to wipe it out in a flash and, worse, do me in. Why do humans loathe us so much? We never do any harm. Read more Diasporic Literature »

Hours of the Stars

Now the secret hour of our voice empties the skies and the morning bread into our hands now we forget the crosses and the serene courtyard and the decree of the Delphic Cybil Read more Diasporic Literature »

Suddenly Ecstasis

Don’t believe a word! I’ve certainly heard this many times before! You see… time has not matured for the Erinyes to start. The night still soothes the wave of anger… You see… the losses are still unknown, and also the men who get up at dawn to go to work, have not enough time to look over their neighbours sorrows… And the others –who underarm their brief cases paper full- have not had their coffee as yet… -having crossed their feet upon the surface, of a -mirror like- polished desk. Read more Diasporic Literature »

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One Comment so far:

  1. Wonderful web site.
    Compliment!
    All the best
    Kind regards

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