terra incognita

this terra incognita that has disappeared from maps
a paradise with invisible words
a broken greek sculpture

lost under the sea, near
an unknown island,

a most powerful wind speaking

hoping that the gods forgive me what I
am doing (even i don’t know what i am doing)
trying to measure of what is measurable,
and asking myself how i can make measurable what is not so

in this will to go further the limits,
the highway that leads to the unknown

i subject everything to reason, to
this tentative ability to form and operate upon concepts

the abstraction of the emotions of an unknown source

a faith that might have nothing mysterious or supernatural in it.
a violation of the everyday’s principles of reason,
in a demanding of spirituality,

almost absurd and ridiculous like a dead blue ghost child walking in the edge
of a skyscraper
immerse in the unknown lands,
in the cartography of the far away planets

that have not been mapped or documented,

producing imaginative scope geographies,
characterising the geographical variation
in some property of the emotions

urban legends
i am a poem by an unknown author

read in high mountains regions with here be dragons

with fantastic virtual beasts haunting in shadows
(including large serpents of radioactive silver)

moving in the most remote corners of the world
and depicted such as decoration on their maps,

looking in only one known surviving cartography

victim of circumstances

looking for here be dragons seeing many strange faces in the crowd
(“hic sunt dracones“)

this terra incognita,
this imaginary continent terra australis

where both the coastlines and the inner parts of the continents
had not been fully explored

in an unexplored subject or field of research.
wondering what did we not map until now

what did we bring of innovative projects to life?
part of a corporation responsible to nameless owners

in a process of love versus nihilism.
working in the stone of life where grows a strong olive tree,
in a tour moving in the fated thinking

lost in the big store of clichés, in the systematic cctv narrative
in the relation of incidents
sick of the terrible endings,

who is caring to know if there is
an answer


the bible,
the hollywood narrative,
the pop chronology surfing together the same wave

an electronic white winter with a huge

this feast of bizarre re-enactments,
tantalizingly trashy trailers of glances of some given eyes,
clever visual images of bodies losing control,

and thoroughly the most dramatic and undramatic moments

lost inside a series of amusing, poignant, witty
and downright scary vignettes

from a certain film noir screened without interruption in a theatre
over the last 100 years,

which depict all women’s love, lust, longing and revenge
lost in an entire history of film compressed into a few minutes of abstraction
becoming a land of nothing, where everything

where one re-evaluates how we identify ourselves
with a sense of place,

after it has been transformed or re-imagined via icons

exposing life-film structure, language,
and perceptual frameworks via cult movies from the 1930’s

lost in promises of a drama-filled saga of

bollywood proportions with a twist of dust
of bones

and on this landscape screen the city crumbles

this is a land of method and chaos,

a festival of manipulated short films, videos and animations
without audience, but with all the data

a terrible meta ballad that uses poems, rhymes and language as inspiration.

and i keep in developing an organic relationship between words and
the vision as opposed to reflective or illustrative.

in an unusual effect, sometimes humorous,
often visually stunning however always unambiguously blind

in an experimental exploration of shortcoming fears
of the explosion of the relationship between believing
and not believing trying in the sceptical
semantic of basic behaviours to make things make sense
and the meaning i got from them

i am lost in the plot of love stories that are told through post it notes,
emails and sms; i am stealing
the seeds of the inner hidden research dreams

i live between the surface of illusion and snippets
in a world of digital fingers touching the skin of the impossible
of all our emotional meaningful expectations

in a complex game with hypertext keywords and pictures,
which distort and mix with each other

in this incognito pace,
an entity that loses its contours and

an entity with the attributes to the various conceptions of

the summation of all particles and energy that exists and the
space-time in which the plot occurs.

fading on observations of the portion of the universe
that is observable,

attempting to describe the whole of the mathematical model
of the documents of

… like people thrown into mysterious places,
black holes where nothing is as it seems

and where the relation between cause and effect is never stable

generally too caught up in an object obsessed conception,
thinking about what is
rather than what actually

and i don’t stop resisting,
i stand in the snow, in the fire, in the invisibility,
in the silence,

refusing to move in this unknown

sceptical soil
in the more than one hundred billion (1011)

known galaxies in the universe to date,
each containing hundreds of billions of stars,
with each star containing about 1057 atoms of

i make and live life through dialogue
inspired from a zen story,
hearing a guru sharing his philosophical knowledge
with his young disciples,

and a mysterious young woman comes naked in the street
from a nowhere land and asks for a

to carry her across a private ocean in this just now discovered land

and i am lost in the concept of love of the
humanistic tradition, from

in buddhist prays, greek, roman, jewish, muslim and christian tradition,
perverted and dismembered through a bloody history of power and
will of control

(in this modern vision setting in the dusk of the days)

attempting to wrestle with the apparent
contradictions of the weather

i am
a terra incognita disappearing from maps

i am the summation of all particles and energy that exist
an almost


always going fast… too fast


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