Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Ilaria La Commare
.
© 2009 - Ben Heine .
My tribute to Ilaria La Commare. She was an Italian writer, editor of cafebabel.com (a most renowned multilingual European magazine) and an anti mafia activist. She commited suicide in Paris in March 2009. Rest in Peace. This is my tribute for this woman full of life.
This is what appeared on cafebabel.com a few days after her death:
Correspondent since autumn 2005, Ilaria has left us at the age of thirty. It happened the 17th of March in a blaze of desperation or courage, leaving her friends and family immersed in grief. Her life was full of activism, the latter being channelled predominantly through the medium of journalism. But Ilaria La Commare was not only a journalist. She was also an accomplished writer and a fine poet.
From her writing you can deduce a vein of nostalgia for her home region of Sicily. The simplicity of the words in her poetry bring us to regard her island just as she did. Colourful, with a maritime presence, lights, sounds and silence. These silences, graphically expressed in the spaces that she deliberately leaves at the beginning of some of her verses, are the most loaded.
She will be missed.
.
This is what appeared on cafebabel.com a few days after her death:
Correspondent since autumn 2005, Ilaria has left us at the age of thirty. It happened the 17th of March in a blaze of desperation or courage, leaving her friends and family immersed in grief. Her life was full of activism, the latter being channelled predominantly through the medium of journalism. But Ilaria La Commare was not only a journalist. She was also an accomplished writer and a fine poet.
From her writing you can deduce a vein of nostalgia for her home region of Sicily. The simplicity of the words in her poetry bring us to regard her island just as she did. Colourful, with a maritime presence, lights, sounds and silence. These silences, graphically expressed in the spaces that she deliberately leaves at the beginning of some of her verses, are the most loaded.
She will be missed.
.
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Envious Rivalry
.
By Samuel Nze
I told them they would destroy my world
They would make it a hell;
They cannot say I did not tell them,
As I looked upon them from celestial heights
The country is full of mediocre ill
Of a lack of understanding;
The land is full of hate,
No one cares at all.
This old man is barking at his daughter
Saying this and that;
He is refusing to reason,
No gentlemanliness about him.
They struggle with one another
Increase the need to strive;
They complain about everything,
There is no respite.
Bickering the livelong day
These ones do not care for the truth;
They love delusion,
They give it heated chase.
It is envious rivalry they prefer
Envious rivalry they choose;
It is envious rivalry that will,
As it were satisfy them.
(The poem appeared on Poetryagainstpoverty.vox.com)
Envious Rivalry
.
By Samuel Nze
I told them they would destroy my world
They would make it a hell;
They cannot say I did not tell them,
As I looked upon them from celestial heights
The country is full of mediocre ill
Of a lack of understanding;
The land is full of hate,
No one cares at all.
This old man is barking at his daughter
Saying this and that;
He is refusing to reason,
No gentlemanliness about him.
They struggle with one another
Increase the need to strive;
They complain about everything,
There is no respite.
Bickering the livelong day
These ones do not care for the truth;
They love delusion,
They give it heated chase.
It is envious rivalry they prefer
Envious rivalry they choose;
It is envious rivalry that will,
As it were satisfy them.
(The poem appeared on Poetryagainstpoverty.vox.com)
Don't Pull The Trigger
.
.
PULL THE TRIGGER
.
By Misty Lackey
.
YOU ARE THERE TO
BE THE BULLET AND
WHEN YOU PULL MY
HEART THAT IS THE
TRIGGER THERE WILL
BE A RAGE FROM WITHIN
TO PAINT ALL COLORS
TO BLACK.
THE SKY ISN'T ALIVE
BUT WHEN YOU PULL
MY MIND THE SURFACE
ARRIVES TO DUST.
A SLOW DEATH ENDING
TO FEAR AND BREATH.
THE LIPS BREATHE.
YOU KISSED DEATH
RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR
ANGEL'S PRETTY DREAM.
SCREAM, DISARM YOUR
WEAPONS.
LOVE IS AN ARROW
YOU HAVE ALREADY
RELEASED THE CUPID.
LOVE IS BLIND TO
YOUR EYES.
LOVE IS ANGER AN
ETERNITY MIND TO
LIVE LIES.
LET COLORS
DIE AND SOULS
BLACK WILL
FOLLOW HELL.
WHITE TO
HEAVEN'S GATE
SING.
BUT YOU CAN'T LEAVE
YOU PULLED THE
TRIGGER AND
NOW THE INNER
WOUND IS DEAD.
------------------------
.
By Misty Lackey
.
YOU ARE THERE TO
BE THE BULLET AND
WHEN YOU PULL MY
HEART THAT IS THE
TRIGGER THERE WILL
BE A RAGE FROM WITHIN
TO PAINT ALL COLORS
TO BLACK.
THE SKY ISN'T ALIVE
BUT WHEN YOU PULL
MY MIND THE SURFACE
ARRIVES TO DUST.
A SLOW DEATH ENDING
TO FEAR AND BREATH.
THE LIPS BREATHE.
YOU KISSED DEATH
RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR
ANGEL'S PRETTY DREAM.
SCREAM, DISARM YOUR
WEAPONS.
LOVE IS AN ARROW
YOU HAVE ALREADY
RELEASED THE CUPID.
LOVE IS BLIND TO
YOUR EYES.
LOVE IS ANGER AN
ETERNITY MIND TO
LIVE LIES.
LET COLORS
DIE AND SOULS
BLACK WILL
FOLLOW HELL.
WHITE TO
HEAVEN'S GATE
SING.
BUT YOU CAN'T LEAVE
YOU PULLED THE
TRIGGER AND
NOW THE INNER
WOUND IS DEAD.
------------------------
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