Basilike Pappa, As Rain Inside The Brain

Proud to be on Dodging The Rain today. Thank you, Neil Slevin!

DODGING THE RAIN

MELINDA’S LONG SCARF SYNDROME

Melinda stores memories inside chickens – uncaring birds.
Buys groceries.
Eats. Cleans. Makes a cup of tea.
Sitting by her window she knits long scarves. Hobbies are a good thing.
It all feels like calling home and speaking in a foreign accent, or like a strange cat sitting on her armchair.

Melinda used to have her rooms full of nightingales. Sometimes she flashed them at people. Well, she is only human.
But counting nightingales before they sing all their songs is a cheater.

It comes as a missed train, as rain inside the brain; as unequal exchange, torn page, minimum wage. It comes as derealization, depersonalization, as minding the gap but still getting your foot stuck in it; as varicose vein, chest pain, not so sweet martha lorraine. It comes as blue, to paint blue the heart; as human factor, x-factor, max factor. It comes as…

View original post 1,029 more words

Advertisements

Wonderstance – Basilike Pappa

My latest on Sudden Denouement.

Sudden Denouement Collective

Winter in radio frequencies

his mad orchestra

the pale state of heaven

Sluggish days / cemeteries  

for pencils – broken  

Are you upset? Walk often

Until communication returns

sleep wake attack escape

social shadowplay

Feed yourself:

the kitchen knife

gleam of the underworld

Windows are reflection / also inspection

But if I fly through them – broken

(as long as they’re not open)

Anathema to insect screens:

instead of sticky tape,

with nails to the frames are attached

See?

Afterlife does nothing on a whim –

follows protocols

Resurrect somebody or make a replica – do it fast

When I repair myself

in the green and gallant spring

when birds do sing

the pine-wood grows alive with wings

face rentals suffer much

my scarves

my boots

my coats

my gloves

will go through

a mild case

of wonderstance


Borrowed Lines

In the green and gallant spring: In the…

View original post 136 more words

Nation & Decoration (part 2): Bojana Stojcic & Basilike Pappa

BUY ANY PRODUCT FROM OUR DECORATION GALLERY 1 NOW AND GET TODAY’S OFFERS FREE!!!

WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR. STAY WELL AND GOD BLESS THE NATION.

*

As you spend plenty of time in your home, it not only needs to be beautiful, cozy and practical, but it also needs to look presentable for both expected guests and unexpected visitors. Blending all four may be tricky. However, you are in good hands because there is not a single challenge our distinguished interior designers cannot rise to.

History repeats itself, which pretty much holds true in the fashion world as well. Contrary to popular belief, there are rarely new trends and we witness modernized adaptations of old works all the time. Vintage furniture, hysterical women in a state of sublime admiration of their kitchen toys, and crying in the bathroom are back into fashion, which is great news for both you and your lovely missus. Keep one thing in mind though: if the little wifie starts bitching too much and too often, enforce new rules in a classy way, like when asking your guests to respect your no shoe policy. Please stay tuned for our Depeche Mode to find out more.

Desperate housewives vs. WASP (thumb thumb thumb your chest)

The modern bathroom is a refined take on a classic theme that is coming back with a vengeance and can turn even a box-sized one into a wonderful place of contemplation and reflection for both him and her.

Being a wife, mom and neighbor is no easy, let alone laughing out loud. We are sure there are times when you wish you could be a judge, ordering the seclusion of the jury. Chin up. Our well-known designers will help make your home-based withdrawal worthwhile by transforming your bathroom into a space where you may quieten the mind. Whether you weep by the sink or cry in huge sobs in public, you might get to hear ‘is everything ok’ or ‘can I call somebody for you ma’am’ questions from passers-by. To avoid this, our team proposes crying out loud in the ensuite bathroom so as to eventually go back to the kitchen singing with spirit.

Since you spend a significant chunk of time consumed by guilt, let us try turning your feeling terribly guilty all the time to feeling mildly guilty all the time. It might take several weeks, sometimes months, for the drugs we have prescribed to reach their full therapeutic effect so we advise you to learn patience. The medicine cabinet should be your last resort. Make certain you have exhausted all other options before grabbing antidepressants. One of the ways to feel less resentful and masochistic and free yourself of guilt and shame at least temporarily is to treat yourself with a regular bubble bath. Pour yourself some wine first and lock the door if you need an excuse for drunk crying too. Additionally, if you disapprove of new interior design trends taking shape, as egalitarianism and humanism, better stick to the old ones. In case you have been hanging out with infected people, use a good lotion, sponge and scrub to deep clean your body and mind. Now that you are all shiny and new, you can return to your household chores. To create lasting happiness in your life, we recommend a dildo and pot on a daily basis, and should you begin to feel ashamed again, shame on you.

Being the man of the house is equally stressful because, while redecorating your home, you have to continually remind yourself that a well-thought-out bathroom may be both a gift to you and a source of never-ending compliments from your guests. Hence, you need thorough planning before opening it for public worship. Our professionals propose stylish bleached-out décor for a calm, clean look of your ensuite and guest bathroom, clinical white supremacy being in the spirit of urban living nowadays. Even if you are a dedicated color lover, trust us when we say that everything, from the tiles to the towels, must be monochromatic due to the historical dominance of white color and a still life effect, unlikely to produce a change in the current social, cultural, political and institutional paradigm.

Color mixing is a trend we can at last kiss goodbye. Today’s bathroom is strongly against miscegenation and in favor of feeling good in your white skin. The aim of creating a white marble bathroom is to call religious and racial bigotry into memory, fight Black emancipation on all fronts and achieve a feeling of genetic purity that both you and your Caucasian friends will be sure to love. Contemporary trends in design suggest all-white faucets, along with a white bathtub, to match your fair complexion, magically combined with monolithic counters, eugenic porcelain, Nordic tiles and soft Aryan fabrics for a complete supremacist look that feels just right for you.

One of the musts when renovating the bathroom is bricking up the window, notorious for encouraging interaction with the outside world, threatening to turn into a redundant fascination with the unknown and a change of perspective which, god forbid, might be permanent especially with women. Therefore, you ought to apply thick layers of top-quality cement to ensure that your attitudes and beliefs stay the same. We advise installing a robust extractor fan as well so that your foul smells could unrestrictedly leave your private space and permeate the rest of society. You can bring some life into the bathroom by incorporating plants such as far-right grassroots, all-time-classic lilies, Astroturf carpeting, and dumb canes to induce speechlessness with your guests (for a long-lasting impact, let them chew).

A large mirror of impenetrable ego-boosting crystal, extending from the washbasin to the ceiling, will make it crystal clear you want to maintain an inflated style and sense of self while performing your Ku-Klux-Klan rituals and practicing your Nazi salute to perfection. Needless to say, a bold piece of art, as well as invisible speakers on the wall playing the white power music, is mandatory in your bathroom. If it exceeds your budget, you can find equally stunning counterparts made in Vietnam without compromising with vogue and principles. If you are not into artifacts, why don’t you try derogatory art prints? (Art is overrated anyway). Lastly, add a crystal-studded toilet and take great pleasure in shitting while pondering totalitarian Sirius in a galaxy encompassing billions of subordinate stars.

Simple minds (wag wag wag your tail)

The way to a man’s heart comes from the most unexpected places, the fact it is most often through his stomach being the least unusual one. Instead of wasting your time thinking of reinventing yourself, our professionals advise obedience for immediate results and sticking to what you know — being desperate.

Ladies, stop believing in fairy tales about equal rights and opportunities for men and women and reading empowering feminist crap such as ‘first you sink into his arms, then your arms end up in his sink’. You are better than that because you thrive on simplicity, and belong in the most important place where decisions are made, namely the kitchen. We assure you housekeeping accomplishments and culinary skills are far more significant than a paycheck, let alone entering the boardroom. Nation & Decoration, therefore, encourages you to raise up your voice when calling him Daddy and screaming his name during penetration on the table. Satisfy your hub’s insatiable appetite for cookies and role play, best when hot and homemade, and he will make sure he pays you by direct deposit. If you are, on the other hand, hopeless in the kitchen, put on the Kiss the Cook apron and turn his mom’s recipes into a flawless family cookbook, at least until the guests are gone. Cooking is like hitchhiking. What can possibly go wrong?! In case the smoke detector does go off, rest assured it is because you are smoking hot.

Gentlemen, surprise your worse halves by having the 50s retro kitchen installed right away. It is a hip trend whose ageless design is a reminiscent of a time of comfort and conformity, allowing women to have everything they are supposed to dream of and be miserable regardless.

Even though the woman has been held under house arrest and sentenced to five consecutive terms of life in prison without the possibility of parole, luckily enough, the kitchen has evolved into a central space around which daily routines revolve. Opening it toward the rest of the premises keeps the family united, at the same time creating the illusion of the freedom of movement, speech and thought. An open layout is, consequently, critical for the social life of the family since the ever-smiling housewife may keep an eye on everyone in the household while fixing hubby’s favorite scapegoat dishes and cold war drinks for the guests who are more than welcome to join her in the kitchen. While ladies are gossiping and watching TV ads on the ideal living style, men are smoking, drinking, talking shop, telling crude jokes and asking why dinner is not ready yet. Open shelving is also becoming increasingly popular with the homeowner who wants to make a statement in the kitchen by cracking the whip before dinner and putting his insignificant other on display after it. What better way to adorn such shelves than with Tupperware boxes which are a proof of the capitalistic values you two share, paying homage to materialism and consumer culture. Our team also suggest choosing the cabinets in light pastel hues of cheerful pink, going hand in hand with the essence of femininity. Furthermore, you will hit it out of the park if you combine them with simple yet ergonomic counters that are just begging women to roll up their sleeves and men to slide down their pants.

When talking about kitchen appliances, our experts would go for stoves and fridges which blend a vintage vibe with modern performance. Of course, they change the overall character of the kitchen, along with that of the woman, who will become sweeter and more submissive to her husband. The groundbreaking Kinder-Küche-Kirche company offers a splendid array of up-to-date, retro-styled electrical devices, as well as matching pink frilly underwear and sexy waitress costumes, bearing the prestigious Reverend Tyrer signature to lift your spirits. Not only will you be ready to present your husband with delicious meals when he comes back home, but you will also serve him with a smile. What more could you wish for?! If things do not work out as planned though, try using the oven to reheat passion (instead of the microwave, considered unhealthy for many reasons today). Note that since in the oven food heats outside first, some things can burn outside while the interior stays cold. For lasting peace, our female colleagues tend to decrease the temperature and increase the cooking time.

Pendant lights of steel as stainless as your virtue will bring the 50s back to life too. Believe us, there is nothing as simple as simple- and narrow-mindedness. Stop burdening your brain with a meaningful life outside the kitchen and concentrate on hanging those lights rather than hanging yourself. What are you waiting for? S-m-i-l-e for Daddy, add a checkerboard floor in Coca-Cola red and white, a polka dot backsplash or wallpaper, and live your kitchen life at full throttle.

Fortunately, digital technology will continue to bring the future to your door. By pressing a button, your nostalgically-designed vinyl floor is soon going to turn into a treadmill so you could actually work out without leaving the kitchen. Nothing compares to the sight of an ideal housewife who looks after her body while cooking for her handsome husband and life-sucking kids. Bon appétit and keep walking.

pic 2, Seph.PNG

Photography: Seph Lawless

***

If you are not familiar with Bojana Stojcic’s work, it’s never too late. Visit her blog Bojana’s Coffee & Confessions to Go and see what you’ve been missing.

For political parental advice, try this

For her hard and dark poetry, go to this

For a taste of life in the Balkans, read this

 

 

 

© Basilike Pappa & Bojana Stojcic, 2018

Lines in the Sand (part 2): Jimmi Campkin & Basilike Pappa

Portrait II

 

I tremble too much these days. I can barely light this cigarette without burning my fingers. Perhaps it is the drink. Perhaps it is memory, weighing on my soul like a lump of lead stretching the fibers of my arms.

I look up to the stars and the constellations spell your name, or the ripples of your laugh, or the contours and folds of your glorious sex. I am a weak man, which is simply to say I Am A Man… there is no strength emotionally, just the naked and vulgar grabs of power from that which we all fear the most. I stand on spiders because I fear them – you place a glass over spiders and release them because you fear them.

Your little black dress drove me crazy. Ever wonder what happened to it? So do I. It didn’t burn as I intended, but evaporated and, caught by an autumn breeze, drifted out of my desperate hands to be made anew elsewhere. That dress, those eyes, that smile, that mind… the endless churning of impenetrable cogs and gears, like a pocket watch.

All that I could be; carnal. All that you could be; my everything.

I still shiver, or tremble, or perhaps my body is rejecting memory, shaking it loose in self-preservation, like a wet dog. I just know I still wish to smell your early morning breath. When I go to the store I look for your footsteps. When I walk into the sea I look for your sand-ridden panties in a little pile next to the lapping tide. When I wake up, I wait for the pinch on the bridge of my nose to tell me it is time to rise.

My song is finished.

Your song is only just beginning.

*

You made me cry.

The wings that spread over seas, the wheels that turn on roads like these, have lights that can be taken for stars from a distance.

I have new dresses now. I am in them when I drink and dance and laugh at something someone said. The magazines are right about little black dresses. I can almost hear the cogs and gears behind erections, so I laugh a lot on days like these.

You speak of weakness. I’ll tell you what it is:

Weakness is a phone ringing with no one to hear it.

Mind covered in rust, shaking hands, what makes this body move among cardboard props is a mystery to this person in the mirror, eyes open wide, these walls know each other, this person inside them a stranger, attack it, heat it up, shorten its breath. Hand holds a cell phone, quasi real, at last an idea almost tangible, digits are the smallest grammatical units in this type of communication and you don’t even have to remember them because a device like this claims to have a memory better than anyone’s.

Weakness is a phone ringing ringing ringing with no one to hear it – where are you, fuck your god? You suck the air out of me and keep it in your lungs when we kiss, bring it back, bring me your voice, your skin to touch, it must be real or nothing is.

A face melting behind hands that come away wet, water on fingertips tastes like the sea. And where were you, fuck everything you’ve got, where was your voice, the smell of home, where were you laughing at something someone said?

You made me cry.

I swore you’d pay for it.

As I turned myself into a little light propelled by an engine across the sky, you were not looking at the stars. You were opening the package I’d left at your door, a gift that was terminal, reading the note that said ‘talk to this’.

I know my hands now and they are steady as I hold my glass. One cigarette dies and another is born – even cigarettes can look like stars from a distance. I have new dresses now, I drink, dance, laugh at something someone said when I’m inside them. But sometimes I dream of us deep in the orange grove, so no kiss is as terrible as yours, no body as warm as yours, and I have no song the way I had with you, singing out of tune to make you laugh.

Memory is weakness and I’ll burn it on a day like this, the way you burned the dress, just wait, you’ll see.

You did burn it, didn’t you? Unless ‘evaporated to be made anew elsewhere’ is your poetry of saying you gave it to someone else.

Take a deep breath, exhale and hate me, don’t make me cry, don’t drink and drive, eat your food. Then I may get my song back.

Could end this ‘with love’ – I’d rather sprain my hand.

 

***

© Basilike Pappa & Jimmi Campkin, 2018

Photography by Jimmi Campkin

Jimmi Campkin is a “Writer, photographer, creator of SANCTUARY. 16bit child, INFP with clinical nostalgia and red wine for blood.” You can enjoy more of his work at jimmi campkin.com.

You can read Part 1 here

Burn

Moran

 

 

Dreams are rhapsodies of children unborn

and ships burned anchored

because the gods are whores

as usual

 

*

 

© Basilike Pappa, 2018

 

 

Image: Burning of the Frigate Philadelphia in the Harbor of Tripoli, February 16, 1804, Edward Moran (1829-1901)

Melinda’s Long Scarf Syndrome

Melinda stores memories inside chickens – uncaring birds.

Buys groceries.

Eats. Cleans. Makes a cup of tea.

Sitting by her window she knits long scarves. Hobbies are a good thing.

It all feels like calling home and speaking in a foreign accent, or like a strange cat sitting on her armchair.

 

Melinda used to have her rooms full of nightingales. Sometimes she flashed them at people.

Well, she is only human.

 

But counting nightingales before they sing all their songs is a cheater.

 

It comes as a missed train, as rain inside the brain; as unequal exchange, torn page, minimum wage. It comes as derealization, depersonalization, as minding the gap but still getting your foot stuck in it; as varicose vein, chest pain, not so sweet martha lorraine. It comes as blue, to paint blue the heart; as human factor, x-factor, max factor. It comes as grabbing hands, twisted arms, naked light bulbs; as consumable products, consumable contacts; as dropping leaves, dropping hints, dropping names (even her name has gone out of fashion). It comes as untied love knots, as mispronouncing your deepest thoughts. It comes as leaving, it comes as staying; it comes as anything, as everything.

Some call it fate, say it spreads like butter on a staircase.

Others the biggest joke there is.

 

One day Melinda didn’t feed her oven.

She took no nonsense from dishes who claim the road to feelings is perplexed.

She gulped down all tendencies to be nice to herself.

First she had a tall drink.

The world was off somewhere, grinning at caged giraffes, taking pictures of quaint cottages or bloodsucking.

Millions of fibers clinging to each other, loop chains growing longer and longer.

 

Fate was Melinda knitting scarves, pushing the needle with a bruised thumb.

Making a big bad loop, she turned herself into a hanging ornament

while a ladybird was passing outside her window.

***

MELINDA’S LONG SCARF SYNDROME was originally published on Rat’s Ass Review, Winter 2017 Issue, 10/12/2017

http://ratsassreview.net/?page_id=2794#Pappa

©️ Basilike Pappa 2017 – All Rights Reserved