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Try harder

Grey winter sky
Like ashes.
So many people parading in the streets
Not enough.
Big words of liberty an unity
Said too lightly.
Proving they were wrong
To dead men.
Proud hearts and minds
Following the crowds.
Call for change
Others should bring about.
Hope of great deeds to be done
Too little
Too late.
Less than half
of half
of half
of half
a country
Feels concerned.

I hope that the end of the story won’t be
Not enough, not from me, too little, too late.
The end of the story
Should always be Hope

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A warning: the first condescending comment about “poor old Europe or small weak France we’ll help you get out of this” will not be appreciated. (Needless to say neither will the next ones but I doubt there’ll be any right?)

I haven’t posted for a while, for numerous reasons… but I’m back at least for a while 🙂

 
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Posted by on 14 January 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Pompeii

Bad things happen around me. I’ve known that since I was 10 years old. But I thought I could escape it, I found a place, so alive that I thought I could hide in between the people and the many lives around me. I loved walking around town, not speaking to anyone, just watching. I got noticed, people started talking to me and I made friends, not close but close enough to not be alone. I really thought I could try again, get another go at life… I was wrong.

But my luck caught up with me, the ground shook, first almost imperceptibly then more and more and I saw my city slowly fall apart before me… all the people I had met, those I had known and those I had gotten used to passing by. The colours and the lights came tumbling down in a shower of ephemeral beauty. The pillars were crumbling and I knew that no matter how hard I tried I would not be harmed. That’s just how it works. I get to see cities fall and people get crushed but I always come out unscathed. I saw the homeless guy I sometimes had sat with for words of wisdom, a pillar about to fall on him, and there were others. I closed my eyes as the city I loved fell to pieces around me and tried to block it out, imagine it still standing, trying to block out the screams of dying people and crashing towers. All I could feel were the tears streaming down my face, it was the only harm done, but it was enough. When I opened them again the rubble sat there accusingly, it was my fault, it always was.
So I closed my eyes again and tried to imagine what it had been again, so full of life. And I cried.

 
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Posted by on 24 May 2014 in Banzaï

 

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Video

Down

Falling, it was easy, she’d done it before, in her dreams, she’d had many dreams about falling into space, nothingness, forgetfulness, because there, there was no one to hate her, no one to lock her out, no one at all. Just nothing, and the thought was appealing: she wouldn’t have to hide anymore, she wouldn’t have to become mute so that nothing she said could be used against her, she wouldn’t have to try to lock the world out. Standing on the edge it all sounded right, no one wanted her and she would fall into oblivion, the world didn’t need her.

Standing on the edge she was determined, but she was also afraid, because she knew that she wasn’t falling to nothing: she was falling onto a hard road where, if she was lucky, she would get crushed on impact. If she wasn’t lucky… she would either get hit by a car or strike a lamppost on the way down, not very nice thoughts but ones she couldn’t get out of her mind. A small part of her still wanted to live, nagging at the back of her mind.
She stood staring down for a while until she realised that she couldn’t do it; her instinct to live was too strong. But by now there was turning back… it was too late. She had her back against the wall, her pain pushing forward, her instinct pushing back and she was stuck in the middle of this tug of war neither able to jump nor go back.
So she sat there and cried alone in the dark. If you see her, pull her away, let her see that not all is lost, show her that there is so much more to life. Please. For her. And for all the people who died thinking they weren’t worth it. Because they were, they were every bit worth the precious life they owned and they should never have thrown it away. No one ever should. If you find her, please tell her this: “you are not alone”, because in these times, that may be all she wants to hear. Thank you.

 
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Posted by on 18 May 2014 in Banzaï

 

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Speakeasy #159 – Rise and Fall

There was a time when the human race Became. There was a time when it was young and stupid and harmlessly barbaric and as the years passed it grew wiser. Or at the very least, some of them grew wiser. Then there came the pinnacle of its time, the golden age when bright young inspired minds preached philosophy about the world and it started to change. And the humans seemed invincible. There was hope of a better world. There was Hope. It fluttered for a moment, magnificent in its struggle, then wilted and lay still as War happened. Now it is dead.

We are the dead of the human race.

We cling to life unconsciously, not knowing we’ve already lost it but we know. My generation knows.

We escape in our dreams: I know some who look out of the window and see dragons, I know those who live in their past and future imagining all the possibilities of what did happen, what didn’t happen and what could happen, I know ones who make their mind an impenetrable fortress where they can be safe from the outside and there are people who see great plains where they can escape the monotonous life we lead that is not living anymore and I know people who have a different life in their dreams and live it at night and sometimes during the day too and I know, that the people who write stories sometimes write things so amazing that will touch you to the deepest of your heart and they can make those stories so true because they believe in them and some people live in their stories and the world fades away until everyone else realises…

We are the dead.

Some say the world was created by a silver fox, old and wise; he remembered to give us old but he did not remember the wise…

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Posted by on 29 April 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy

 

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Speakeasy #157 – After The Storm

Winter seemed reluctant to release it’s hold in Anna’s heart, the healers tried everything they could yet she showed no sign of life.

“Maybe it will get better when spring comes around” says one of them, encouragingly.

I look outside at the snow storm and despair, “it looks as if spring has given up on us” I answer.

“Well, there is no more we can do for today. We will come back tomorrow”.

I cannot show them how desperate I am, I can’t let them know how much I fear that she will not live that long, so instead I say the only thing I can:

“thank you”.

Anna I fear that the child inside you is causing all of this, I fear that the source of our joy this winter is taking all your heat and energy in the comfort of your womb and not leaving enough for you. The spells of the healers are all around you yet I fear it will not be enough. Nothing can protect from yourself, or from what is, at the moment, a part of you, deep inside. In that fortress it keeps safe but I can’t keep YOU safe. I will stay by your side all night…

…. I wake up with a jolt, when did I fall asleep? Everything seems so calm, the storm has passed and the sun is shining. I look at you pale as moonlight and cold as the stars, you are not waking up. I see that you will never wake up now. My body becomes ice and I can’t move. I cannot even cry. What monster am I that I can’t even cry in front of the statue you have become? Why can I not cry for you?

And then I hear a small sound, which then becomes a wail and I realise that something magical had happened this night. Anna did you give your life for your child knowingly? Or could nature not bear to see the both of you die?

Tears roll down my cheeks but still I cannot move. A small knock echoes for a long time around my head before the door carefully opens and the early healer tiptoes in. What a sorry sight it must have been for her and yet she quietly came in, sat me down and put my child in my arms before disappearing out again.

A lifetime later, though from the look of the sun it must have been less than an hour, she came back with an older woman who fed the hungry little thing that had been in my arms and I couldn’t help but wonder at the beauty of life. I have witnessed a heart wrenching end, but with it came a new beginning. It was like a Phoenix, I thought, new life born from ashes. I named my daughter Anna, like you, because in a way, you were reborn in her, and I know she is not you and I will never expect her to be you but there is a part of you in her. I will cherish my child because you gave her your life, and I will gladly give her mine.

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Posted by on 15 April 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy

 

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