Poetry

Sepia rose gold, your eyes glisten

Watch your step and I listen.

Your heart’s been open for too long

I guess that’s why they call you strong.

Sepia rose gold, your eyes glisten.

Watch your step and I listen. 

On a Chair

Waves, come crashing on my core,

I do not live any more.

I sit still and observe,

What I did and didn’t deserve.

Broken Pieces

 However much you love a butterfly she will still die

in a day 

Home without her

 She's always gone

I never touch the kitchen any more

And everything here is lifeless

Objects have become things

And the things I used to see in them memories

I wish she'd come back just for a day

And that that day would last a lifetime.

What a useless thing to think

Post Work

 Otan den xortaineis na vlepeis ton allon, auto den einai agapi?

A Lost Journey

 How did I give away my email to hackers along with my memories

To fade suddenly yet gradually from the feed of friends around the world.

I was shocked when I realised what had happened. 

Just like that time I left Lebanon and realised my daily seeings would change.

Same as Australia, and jobs I've had.

Will I see this person again? The moment of realisation and then a big hug. Whether I do or not, I hold this moment forever.

But to suddenly disappear of the face of your social memory was grander.. No compass can locate how lost I felt losing those sweet moments in time that I shared mostly with myself. The loneliness I openly caressed yet the friendliness I kept going - like if you, my friend, were here, you know we would have been laughing and sitting chatting over tea, cake, snacks, cider or whatever else tickles your fancy depending on where you're from and where we are at.

A journey of moments and colours blocked me from seeing it.

Saddest. 

Yet I remember Alexander Jay from Canada who I met in Lebanon when he was over 30 and I was under 26 and was looking for his other half who he has now found and proposed in the snow to, saying 'I'm so glad I met you' because we had the same light in our eyes. And a love for personable communications.

I remember Emma from Sweden saying 'you saved me Elina' as we looked at the full moon on the hostel balcony in Bundaberg and thinking wow I didn't do anything.

I remember moments I could not have captured in pictures, and hope others remember me in these moments too... 

But I can't avoid feeling that I have lost these moments. 

The big hug of goodbyes that really just left me staring at people in my current reality like I've only just arrived.

Names that are being confused in my head in my attempt to hold and remember usernames.

Yet I see the students I work around and my colleagues and smile knowing that these too are moments irreplaceable and lonesome - as all others.

Moments that will stay even if they are lost.

And yeh, I have added people back on my new account but it really feels like I am the newborn and everyone else has a past.

23:00 Night Shift Day

 Wanting to care for someone so much you cry in the car on your way to work.

When a colleague told me she cries here and there and in her car and at random times I found it hard to associate with, imagine or feel.

Now I experience it too.

I play a song I want to hear like London Grammar - Strong and suddenly feel the weight of loneliness when it says I've never been so 'lone.

Oh sorry - it actually says I've never been so wrong.

If a child, a child cries, would you not forgive them?

g. I can't imagine being so wrong. Like with all compassion and intellect should come a very clean understanding of things. But how someone can be so wrong - is beyond me.

It's like coming from different dimensions.

Yet I met someone today who clearly was sent to come and tell me he has just come back from Australia and we've seen the same things. Last stop was Brazil because his wife is Brazilian. The place I was going to go after Australia. Strangeo to meet like that - and yet stranger to not be able to break down walls of people who for so long have convinced themselves that they are strong, right, better and further.

How much can you excuse.

All of it I guess.

--

How strange

 The anguish and unbearable 

pain of hard uncertainty,

violence and the passing 

of time in fear.

The growing anticipation of

the worst -

yet bravery to face anything.

Broken hearts in solidarity - 

from near and far.

The pupils dilate in adrenaline

rushes of preparation

for unannounced attacks.

And those that survive live

to remember and bare

the stretch of a mark.

Modern History

 We are strong.

Morning coffee in the car

And yet there's a war that just broke out.

Somehow through history books it all feels 

current and it's happening in real time.

Crazy.

Shaky.

I'm quite scared to be honest but happy to 

be able to blog while I drive to work.

Technology.

But if I lost my loved ones I couldn't bare it.

So what?

 I could imagine a world where you progress but don't advance.

And where you think outside of the box

But I could never imagine not being able to make visible

< Transferable skills.

Ideal.

Love for whatever I do,

Care for the task,

Consideration of the other

Of their interests

And of the path

To the outcome.

Ideal.

I deal with a lot.

Sometimes all I think about is James Corden. Not the popular one - but my first mentor. He was the absolute inspiration. And made me who I am today. He taught me to teach as part of any work process. To ask 'so what' and always get to the next answer. What is it that you want to say? Employers always get it if you're answering their questions. They're the ones who set them. It's like an untold yet unhidden truth that most fear to express freely. Yet it's the core of communicating your work personality.

And James unlocked this in me.

And I unlocked this in others.

And that's how you improve.

You just ask.

Word press in bass

 Surely I should have been an acknowledged blogger by now

Someone who touches the heart of the viewer creating the image of these words in their own colours and shapes.

Someone who touches the heart of this reader as much as is accessible and intertangeable.

Someone who creates words.

And then again, someone who forgets big and small events of life,

Who is found in the middle yet center of their own gravity,

Who longs but has not longed in a while.

Someone who fears Altzheimer's but can spell it,

And someone who really, really, can't make sense of the burning love and loneliness that should have found a shelter by now.

What is life, you learn it all and can't implement as much of it.

Ripped out pages 6|11 (year unknown)

Like A River

 I can hear the cold

and feel the warmth

of this moment

up the hill.

I climbed it;

my personal pilgrim,

and it feels personal

and mine.

One of the few things of mine

that have not .been invaded.

One of the few things of mine

that I can still protect.

The rest of my things,

I couldn't.

My family, my sexuality, my brilliance,

my heart.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5jz8xdpR0M

Done

I'd only shine when I was striving
It's like I'm weak but I'm surviving
I learned to swim cz I was drowning
And now I'm here to keep rewinding

Looking back I used to cling,
Attach myself to all the things,
to all the queens and all the kings,
And to the chords and all the strings.

Now I'm cutting all the chords
Not with violence, not with swords
Just with quiet peaceful words
Coming from regards of wrongs.

no sentimental lyrics

no sentimental lyrics
can do justice
to the relationship we have.
'you're like two pieces of the same person' said sproul.
and it stuck with me - 
now i know where to look when i'm feeling incomplete.

you raised me
in vibration and years
we met somewhere and never unmet
again.

sometimes your worth is seen
in the effect you have on the people
and look what you've created;
me.

your rays can't be measured
because some eyes haven't seen
your worth.

if you do the math you'll see it 
it all matches
and we didn't even have breakfast yet.

you know

anything you wanna ask me,
you already know.
...you know.

if you wanna ask me what's for dinner
tonight
you know.
we're having good food.

if you wanna ask me where I was
today
you know.
i was somewhere not far from you.

if you wanna ask me what i heard
today,
you know.
music and the birds.

if you wanna know what i saw today;
i saw me talking to yoy.

Another bus ride

awaits

as I make my way to the bus stop
with an apple in my hand and 
pieces of it in my mouth.

The bus arrives
and the bus driver speaks to me 
in English.
I respond to him in Cypriot.
He takes a second to decide whether
he thinks I'm Cypriot
or just a foreigner who 
has learned the language well.
'One fifty please',
the last thing he said.
The bus starts moving and I sit.

I sit between Romanian, Bulgarian
and Russian workers.
Amongst us are some English
tourists
and you can tell who's on holiday
and who's not.

A Russian lady 
is on the phone
in Cypriot
complaining about the long working 
hours.
I feel empathy.
Taking a bus ride that takes an hour,
for the distance of fifteen minutes,
isn't something extremely pleasant if you're on your way to work 
every day.

I consider getting a motorbike.
Then again,
I haven't driven one before.
I consider getting a car.
Then again,
I haven't got the funds for it.

This starts frustrating me
but I'm in a good mood.
I am a worker
just like the other workers.
I will take the bus to work
because at the moment it's my only 
means of transportation.

30 minutes to go.

I want to apologise
for wanting you to be mine
when you already are
in a relationship
with
your
girlfriend
and partner in life.

i want to apologise for wanting 
something that isn't 
mine or anyone's 
or on offer at all.

i apologise for freezing 
when I see you
i have no words
i have no feelings
my heart gets tangled and i don't 
know
why
i'm apologising for something
that comes naturally 
and wants to shower you
like water
on a hot day.

Nobody knows this 
but i have no money on my name.
I walk around like I do,
cz I used to.
And when I used to,
I used to think money doesn't matter.
And it doesn't.
Cz life is now and not later
Waiting for the future
is ignoring that the present's greater.

Someone who sees me as art;
Not a piece of woman
Not a figure.

I've been infected
With restless whispers
And cheats -
Just like disclosure.
But I found closure
Knowing
You believed in what you heard
And not what you felt.
Who does that?
That - never mind
No one ever trusted the new self
That soon
Anyway.

Give way,
Go away,
Come around
But stay.