Archivi tag: woman

@ 24 POETICALLY: The Expulsion from Paradise

November 25 is the day of violence against women. Violence against women is expressed through the phrases “stalker” and “femicide” in Italy. The discussions mainly concern the brutal facts of chronicle. Journalists oscillate between an apocalyptic vision in one of irrelevance. Conditions at work, on time management for the care of family and self, and access to education, have improved significantly since the seventies for all: males and females. The element of discussion in Italy is still elementary: the woman’s body. Public opinion sometimes doubts on physical violence to women. Many people debate whether the responsibility is the victim. The media analyze a single event and not the system of social networks. The system of repression, the legal, health and economic minimum subsistence, amplifies all the violence and the condition of subjugation of women.

 

 

Males do not speak. They are indifferent. Some males are violent. Males comment on the violence, sometimes with witticism and stereotypes. Or not?

 

Men should recognize the phenomenon. If men were witnessed events of violence against women, they should honestly express judgments about themselves and about their attitudes.

 

It was a Sunday afternoon in late May in 1985. The air was warm and the sky was clear. I was sitting with friends on the stairs of the main entrance of the municipality of Marino (town near Rome). A woman appeared with the dress to the nines. She ran to the streets asking for help. A scruffy old burly man chasing her. The man grabbed the woman and threw her to the ground. The brute slapped the woman. It all happened in less than 10 seconds. We did not have time to move. We looked at each other in disbelief, inert and dazed. A young man came over and ordered him to stop the brute. Another man arrived: an undercover policeman.

 

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Colonna’s Palace – Municipality of Marino (Rome)

The brute calmed down. The woman gets up and pulled himself together. We remained standing as puppets. Some acquaintances of the couple arrived and they talked animatedly. Everyone left a few minutes later.

 

On the side, there were some ladies sitting on the balcony and others on chairs outside their house entrances. I knew them all along: how many times they told me to be careful of the cars when I was a kid and I used to play with their children, and when they offered snacks to their children and to me. They infused the stability, security and a sense of time. They were lovely: a trace my childhood.

 

Their look was grim and dour. I observe for the first time those faces. I listened to their harsh comments against the woman who was appealed as a “prostitute”. I do not I caught no judgment toward the man. The “acquired” aunts looked like statues full of cold and soot, now.

 

The houses appeared black with a sky without a reflection. I had the image of the first page of the novel “The Protocny’ alley” Elijah Ehrenburg, where a man hit in the head with a brick a woman in the street. And what for me was experienced as a fiction, all this he twisted bowel, now. I stammered incoherently as my two friends next door.

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We looked at each other still blushing. We were humiliated our inactivity and fear. And after a long time before the mirror and no excuses, I realized that the shame which I had after the event, was also an excuse: we thought to ourselves, not to the woman. The tangle of emotions was a network off the violence and absurdity of the scene. I had buried the woman in the streets of my mind. I had become, in spite myself, an accomplice of that violence. It answered that, at that moment, the safe childhood was disintegrated: I was expelled from Paradise.

# 17 Contamination: The Mute Gender

July 15, 2013 

Women have invented agriculture and they have helped to organize the collection rational use of water in associated groups the dawn of time. Women have been created and re-created safe places for everyone, and they have also allowed the males to pass on the language and signs, history and biography of the group and the clan. Over the centuries, the title and the names of those who have held the technologies of speech and memory, were males.

The safe house that has always been a source of life, the woman was, and is also the dark prison of chains that were imposed in physical violence, and in the words of ordering the world and time.

The women, however, have sought autonomy in the activities of production, trade in manufactured goods of the earth and of the culture and memory. More than two billion women in the house, as prisoners sentenced to life imprisonment, on leave only with the bridegroom to the marriage or accompanied by a male relative’s funeral, holding the small economy that allows another two billion and more of people to work below cost for the powerful and the place for the technologically advanced countries.

Always in groups and on my own, women have tried to stand still and today and for ever more, as owners of their own autonomous subjectivity of one’s own body and at least be able to declare their status of minority. And they remain a mute Gender.

Nadia Anjuman was born approximately in 1980 was an Afghan poet and journalist. In 2005, while still a student at Herat University, published a book of poems entitled Gul-e-dodi (“Dark Red Flower”), released immediately in Afghanistan, Pakistan and parts of Iran. He spoke of himself, and of all, no offense, let the emotions show and she showed that even a woman can speak totally in the world apart from taxation thousands of years. In addition, together with other women, she created a circle of literary studies of William Shakespeare and Fyodor Dostoevsky.  

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Nadia Anjuman – Picture taken HERE 

And she made ​​it clear the issue:

I AM IN THIS CORNER IMPRISONED

I am trapped in this corner full of melancholy and sorrow. My wings are closed and I can not fly. 

Because you can not talk, but the poem is older than the written text, because it leaves the body:

NO DESIRE TO OPEN MY MOUTH

[…]
My mouth should be sealed.
Oh, my heart, you know, is the source.
And time to celebrate.
What should I do with a wing stuck?
That does not allow me to fly.
I have been silent for too long.
[…]
I am not a weak poplar
which is shaken by the wind.
I am an Afghan woman.
And (my) sensitivity leads me to complain.  

Because the chains may not contain air, breath and poetic inspiration.

 

CHAINS OF STEEL

How many times has been removed from the lips
my song, and how many times it has been
the muted murmur of my poetic spirit!
The meaning of joy was
buried by the fever of sadness.

If my verses with you to notice a light:
this would be the fruit of my deepest imaginings.
My tears were not used to anything
and I am left with nothing but hope.

Although I am a daughter of the town of poetry,
my verses were mediocre. 

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Picture taken by David Walker HERE

Although I am a daughter of the town of poetry,

my verses were mediocre …

And I say happy archives:

but they were the same rhythmic
from the body of the poet,
who feel the soul of a people
and a genre between the ages and continents,
and that transmits voice primordial
in redefining the world at the turn of time.

Nadia Anjuman was finally silenced by her husband on 4 November 2005.

@ 14 poetically: males in the mirror.

May 6, 2013

It sounds trite and boring to repeat it. Some of these killings have already announced before completion of their sad and then they are subsequently accompanied justifications that the blame due to unbalanced or marginalized.

But the bad man is a relative or trusted friend. The hypocrisy speaks of love and jealousy and it transposes it into a biological inability to restrain himself by the male. For sure it’s the woman’s body that continues to be violated after death in the images, in legal procedures and the reconstruction of the events.

We speak of an emergency. But it is not a phenomenon of today this murder with the obvious desire to annihilate a living being that is considered inferior by the violent as a mere object available.

These tragic events are narrated with shock and paralysis, and they are concluded with a general exhortation to understanding and combating of ‘phenomenon’.

The males refuse to turn over the matter and their victims: they are eclipsed.

Now, without invoking the common sense, intellectual honesty, the basic principles of ethics and law, it is sufficient for males to listen to your body.

Think about it, we males fugitives as if we were sprawled on the ground, undressed, with blood and urine, and the gaunt face in front of everyone, maybe neighbors who are scratching your head, sit down and nose and exchange phrases in the look for land , with the inevitable idiot which ranks near the cameras of some journalist. Think only physically in the cold, the stench in your body. Just this.

And of course everyone looks unhealthily the victim (on the street, in newspapers, on television) without thinking about the murderer.  Where is the murderess? It is the husband? The father? The brother? The victim in front of the public without compassion.

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Jakub Schikaneder, “Murder in the house”
– Picture taken HERE

Security is not everywhere: water, sun faded, sand and sea are already a hazard. And this is a lie: the one who generates life is offended by the complement of male generation that believes one unshaken principle.

She is alone: think of males in vain to ask for help to relatives, friends and judicial authorities. Imagine us walking the streets seeing everyone happy or upset to the everyday problems and feel marked and liable to be seized and crushed at any moment in front of indifferent gaze. Feel it in the stomach this horror. Listen in your veins awareness of being massacred in short, where even the crying will be punished.

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Jakub Schikaneder – Picture taken HERE

There are itchy hands? You feel the anger growing inside you? Here you multiply that feeling by a thousand in the stomach, knowing they can not do anything and that all this will explode inside. Imagine you how to get mangled trunks without memory in a dirty beach and desolate.

The red umbrella with traits defined as follows, with respect to the forms almost liquefied, picks up the warmth of the heart and the soul and reflects it to the surrounding environment. The rain does not refreshes: afflicts slowly to normality as an inevitable compulsion. The body of the woman and her walk are imposed by rains that cut and not soothe, like tears of acid. There is a mock sun and obscured by cultural requirements and power, which are passed off as natural and eternal.

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Andre Kohn – Picture taken HERE

Dear males think about the normality of every day, which is made of gray and oppression, like a simple to walk and dress imposed. Just think just that.

* 4 Special Guest: Poetry: The immediate original

March 7, 2013 

In the languages ​​and modern techniques is the supposed evidence in composing female and male in the division of the heart and brain; in a quadrilateral where each element is intended to separate and then it is juxtaposed with the senses and intellect.

And all this is even more true for the inclination of an “artist” or a “mathematical”

We believe to reason and discern with pieces of meat hanging in the butcher shop.

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Painter: Giacomo Sonaglia 

Yet the act of writing poetry, even before writing, this is because it expresses what the body feels and emanates towards everything that is real. But expresses all using the contemplation of the sublime of every aspect of the real, which is seen as a universal act. Each poem as it is complex, it is a composition immediate with what the body expresses at the time, birth, death, the meaning of love and hate.

Cloverleaf of migrant stars (poetry comes from “Suspended Dreams”)

Everywhere I look obsequious and anxious
the four large paintings of the horizon,
that they offer the ocean from the ground chamfered
of flames that rise up the air excitedly.

The aerial messenger gives yellow
Autumn chased, severe, from
winter shadow of the leaves in heap
where they intersect the angle of the cloverleaf.

And to regain the presence of emerald
springs that erupt from essences,
these reproduce the ecstatic thaw
of the stars of the leafy stem.

Each clover is also a quadrilateral of shadows
who deny the association hidden,
but the stars migrants hearts heavenly
report the blazing grafts.

* 3 Special Guest: COMPETITION FOR SHORT STORIES, “WOMEN AND THE SEA”

March 3, 2013 

To participate you must be a member of the Facebook group “Star Books”, here’s the address:

www.facebook.com / groups / libristellari

It participates in the group by entering a separate post with attached his own story, maximum 1000 characters including spaces and punctuation, in doc format (Word 97-2003 format, not docx) or pdf file not protected, or in RTF (Rich Text Format) .

If you want you can also insert an image in the file that illustrates the story. Inside the file type, before the text of the story, your first and last name and the title of the story; basically write your web site or blog, FB page, in short, all the web pages that will affect you.

The name of the file containing the account must be in this form: “Miniconcorso – Name and surname of the author – Title of the story.”

The theme of the stories is: “Women and the Sea”. Deadline to enter the tales: Sunday, March 17, 2013. 
 
 As of 18 March 2013, will have access to all the stories participants, we will post a poll so that those who want to be able to read the stories in the “Files” section of the group and vote his favorite.

The three stories of winners (first, second and third place) will be posted on these sites:

– FB page of “The Library of the artists Jedi”

– Blog Giuseppe Ciucci, http://djonemesispoesiaeracconti.blogspot.it/

– Star Blogs Demaris, http://stella-demaris.blogspot.it/

– Blog of Lino Milita, http://poeticamentelino.blogspot.it/

– Site by Diego Lights, http://www.diegoluci.it/

The winning story, in addition to publication in the sites mentioned above, will be advertised in the various FB groups dedicated to writing and to emerging writers.

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Good work!

@ 5 poetically: time for us and not for others

February 15, 2013

 

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Eva D. Cowdery (American, 20th century) “Girl Reading” on the Boston Art Club label, signed lr Eva D. Cowdery, taken from HERE

 

This was a revolutionary act.

Time for yourself and not for others.

Full time and experienced.

 

The painting has red hair and rosy lip in a single triangle of the white page with the face of intense concentration and contemplation wonderful.

Where contemplation is harmonious union already undivided green hope of affirmation of self.

She does not wait for ratings from other people’s looks and even letters of severe judgments.

I am for me in reading this air of freedom unconquerable.

@ 3 Poetically: Woman at the window

January 30, 2013 

 

What are you looking at this woman?

It looks like she’s watching the road.

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Gustave Caillebotte, “Woman at the window” (1880) taken from HERE

 

Yes, this woman is looking at the way her of her past and many manifestations of the ego and safe collection of what is behind her, with a calm and static vision of support to the interior of the room.

 

This is an overview of all the manifestations of what has been, what with the uncertainty of what might still be; of the many faces that will appear and they are now and still waiting for a response from them and from the indifferent external environment, or they are waiting for our nod.

 

A nod to our viewers.