@alex-a-roman / alex-a-roman.tumblr.com
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I write poetry because I cannot commit To anything longer than half a page Before I get sick of it On my bad days, I even rip apart the paper After I spill all my painย So no, Iโm not nice, donโt get too closeย Unless you want a broken heart, Unless you turn the tablesย Give me a taste of my own drug And maybe then I'd begย And scream and pray for you to stay, Maybe then I'll wake upย And realize I wrote my life away.ย
~ A. A. Roman
Iโve acquired an exquisite taste for life โ Sharp dressed, slick hair, necktie, Iโll put some jazz to make us cry, Perhaps aย Chardonnayย before you die?
Oh, I think youโve got the wrong guy Iโm a saint, Iโm vile, Iโm also rare to find Give me one second to fix my looks, Tonight Iโm cooking dinner for the mankind.
What I do is bloody, but still sweet poetry Iโll bring the main course then itโs au revoirย Walk away while you can, if you can find your way out, If not, hi, Iโm Mr Nice Guy!ย
~ A. A. Roman
Thought I'd share my favorite romanian poem with you. It's called Plumb (Lead) by George Bacovia, written in 1900:
Death sleepinโ shells are all of perfect lead, All lead the hauntinโ bloom and cloth, as well - Just sounds of silent grave the wind would yell When the undyinโ wreaths cried, all of leadโฆ
I called him, but my dead love was all lead, Likewise the leaden pyre bloom around - The dead I guarded slept in mirthless sound, No clay submittinโ to his wings of leadโฆ
Encountering this on tumblr reminded me of something. Some years ago while trekking in the Bucegi Mountains (Romania), I saw a cross, marking the place where someone died on the trail.
Original text on the cross:
CALATORULE, OPRESTE-TE O CLIPA: CE ESTI TU AM FOST SI EU. CE SUNT EU VEI FI SI TU. VINTILA GHEORGHE, PRINS DE AVALANSA PE ZIUA DE 5 IANUARIE 1955 GASIT PE ZIUA DE 7 IULIE 1955 NASCUT PE ZIUA DE 10 IULIE 1906 AZUGA
Translation:
Traveler, stop for a moment: what you are, I was once. What I am, so you will become. Vintila Gheorghe, caught by the avalanche on the day of 5 January 1955 Found on the day of 7 July 1955 Born on the day of 10 July 1906 Azuga
The first line is also from one of Bacovia's poems, but can't remember the name.
The story, the crudely stamped text, the quote (so fitting!), the fact that this was still present more than half a century (and countless avalnaches) later, never fails to give me goosebumps.
Itโs been raining for hours, I canโt help but remember the days I ran with you โ In baggy clothes and dirty shoes,ย Weโd dance to the rhythm of youthful life ย Unbothered, mindless, eternally bemused; Weโd hide inside the house, how I miss that rusty place! Tell scary stories in the dark and play pretend, Back when life was art and we were painters, We were singers, actors and rebels.ย
~ A. A. Roman
Iโm so tired of people saying Romania cancelling election is โundemocraticโ, โa Soros-backed decisionโ or that our โdemocracy is in shamblesโ. Be serious! The job of the Constitutional Court is to make sure the democratic process goes smoothly and to ensure compliance with electoral procedures.
Guess who didnโt comply? Georgescu declared zero spending for his campaign when he received millions from several sources, he failed to mark his political ads as political ads, paid influencers to promote him and threatened them when they refused, openly defended nazis, and on top of that on the election day, we were hit with 85000+ cyberattacks (originating from 33 countries) meant to exploit system vulnerabilities and mess with election data.
Very clearly, our democratic process has been tampered with several times. Cancelling the first round and disqualifying the candidate that didnโt respect the rules is what the court is supposed to do! Elections have been cancelled before. This decision aligns with established EU norms on electoral integrity.
Criticise the court for not acting faster, but please stop caving in to this โit's undemocraticโ narrative pushed by far right loonies. They don't care about democracy. You know very well theyโre the ones propping up these candidates, brainwashing the masses and then trying to convince us that itโs wrong to try and stop them.
No, Romania is not a fascist dictatorship, random guy in my dms. If anything, we stopped a fascist from getting to power.
And fuck Vance for throwing punches at us in Munich! The three applause that followed should convince you heโs full of shit.
"Hey how are you?"
Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine gotta gotta be down bc I want it all it started out with a kiss how did it end up like this it was only a kiss it was only a kiss now I'm falling asleep and she's calling a cab while he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag now they're going to bed and my stomach is sick and it's all in my head but she's touching his chest now he takes off her dress now let me go and I just can't look it's killing me they're taking control jealousy turning saints into the sea swimming through sick lullabies choking on your alibis but it's just the price I pay destiny is calling me open up my eager eyes 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside.
Home
I never feel right. There's a pressure in the middle of my skull that never goes away. It's like a bullet got stuck inside and is now desperately trying to find a way out. It all started when I was a child. One day I stopped talking. I felt wrong in my skin. Adults wanted me to be brave, but I couldn't find the right words, I couldn't think the right thoughts and the world around me started spinning out of control. It never stopped. I am lost. I am not me. I am a poet, a photographer, a friend, a lover, but I am not me. I am a ghost trapped in between worlds, a figment of your imagination. I am not real.
I don't feel at home. The scars are wide open. I am 13 again. I'm looking at the sky from my bedroom window. I want to escape. It feels like my head is going to explode into a million pieces and there are days when I hope it does, so that I don't have to pretend anymore. It hurts. My whole body is in pain. Anyone's touch burns me. I wish I was a real person. I wish my parents would tell me they love me, but all I hear is noise.
It's raining. I graduated from university. I am all alone, walking at midnight with the city lights shimmering above. It's finally quiet. I feel at peace, but I don't feel at home. There's a lingering fear and a compelling conviction that I never will.
Do you love me like I loved you From across the forest, when I caressed youย With every leaf that touched your skin? Do you love me as I loved you โย In the Summer, in the Winter, Whether sunny or pouring rain? And if you love me, please donโt linger Bury me inside your dreams, Lock me up in the old house, Save me for the night we'll meet.
~ A. A. Roman
