Love’s not dead: punk love in Derek Ridgers‘ photos from 1978-1982 in London.

(via)

Untitled/2019

pale,

your voice trembles and your mouth stinks

your ears ache and you smell of nicotine and kindness

I’m not a poet but I would rather be-not a poet but someone poetically beautiful,

so, here I am, ugly and soft, like a dead fish

always going backwards,but my flesh is fresh and young

and my tale is thick like your nails, 

it could be worse.

ῳ

μὴν καταργεῖτε τὴν ὑπογεγραμμένη ἰδίως κάτω ἀπὸ τὸ ὠμέγα εἶναι κρῖμα νὰ ἐκλείψει ἡ πιὸ μικρὴ ἀσέλγεια τοῦ ἀλφαβήτου μας

Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος

“αφόρε(/η)τη”

σαν ρούχο που δεν ξέρεις

αν σου πάει

μ’έχεις εδω και κρέμομαι

με την ετικέτα

κι όλο φοβάμαι πως

θα σου’ρθει μια μέρα

να μ'αλλάξεις

Gilles Peress