Author Archives: iulia gherghei

About iulia gherghei

I live in Bucharest, Romania. I work in the National Radio Broadcasting- Radio Romania Cultural as technical director- d.j.-. I write poetry in my spare time so I am an amateur !

The new world of the fish with no tail


The fish with no tail and most bluish eyes ever

Was hanging in his tree, his new addition to  his geography 

One day, on a hunch, he jumped out of the water, took a bite from a leaf who was just hanging there, inviting, seducing him with its green hues. 

The sweetness was overwhelming,

wings have sprouted from his thins instantly, a total transformation took place:

fish and tree became one. 

The world was sweet!  

having this realisation, the fish with no tail was soaring his expanded horizon feverishly looking for his next transformation.

The thought of it would give him rushes of thrils, a bit of an addiction, if you ask me.

 One random morning, The one, as he called himself now, open his most bluish eyes ever and started whistle, just like that, out of the blue…

Later The one will call it chirping, but you got it, a new transformation took place.

His world it was now sweet and loud. 

The story is long, have patience, my esteemed friends. A new episode will follow… And, no, it’s not on Netflix! 

A sonet about light

Waiting anxiously for a little bit of light
Stranded flat on the bed in an iron caress
Shiver after shiver accumalates in fright
I pray for mercy, a sweet kind of egress

I bath in the chocking foam
Of my despair diving freely
Into the unforgiving roam
That we call hell lately

And I wonder what was before light
No one is saying
That story is cast away

Our story has only the father
Our entire civilisation is praising only males
Gas lighting is older than I expected then

Fall, only fall

Rain, insidious rain
Cannibal rain
Impoverishing rain

Droplets, tormenting droplets
Ledges, drums for the droplets
Punishment for the eardrums 
Droplets 

Fall, only fall
Fallen leaves, pavements soaked
Drenched in leaves
Putrid leaves

Puddles bitting at our shoes
Puddles sipping the whole army of clouds 
Puddles

Rain, more rain, only rain 

Women growing sad, their wrinkles follow the droplets’ pattern on the sheet of glass
Their lives grow roots that meet the trees’ roots under pavements
Women

Knots germinating
Brewing new seasons
Knots

But for now

Rain, insidious rain
Cannibal rain
Nauseating rain
Breaking knees rain

Tinfoil and stardust

Tinfoil and stardust

A dream
An aim
A fantasy
Something to keep me focused while
Life passes by
I hang on to my dream
I project it on open skies
The sea washes my feet and my dream
Catches a sail and slides away

From the shore
Dream and sea blended together
Under the tinfoil of a cruel sky
Cruel and blue
An infinite screen running infinite dreams
Keeping us enthralled
While the galaxy is mincing stardust at the core

A dream, an aim, a fantasy
Surrogates for life
Imaginary postcards with oceans and seas
In perfect synchronicity
Sailing on a blue screen
Of a very smart tv

The summer of muted streets

The night is falling, slipping through the bricks
The sky is between colours
A storm is brooding nearby
Exalting hope
The clocks are melting
The hours are drooling sweat

The heat, gathered in long strangling ribbons is pushed away
By a feeble breeze
Mosquitoes will start buzzing soon and
I am exhausted, a sticky fatigue
But the heat won’t allow any rest
I take every breath cautiously
Like a play of hide and sick

With the summer heat altering the colour of the sky
I stay with my eyes wide open
Barely breathing, barely
moving
Absorbing as much summer as my body can endure
Who knows what season will come next

What plague of locusts
What manifestation of sins will tarnish this land
What seas will split
What plastic idols would they reveal
What grounds will shake in disgust
What molten lava will seal sky and land
And everything in between

Back to the sky
Never seen before a sky so similar to a sidewalk
Cement coloured, no stars
Pressing down the heat
Mercilessly
No car alarms, no human voices
Just heat, dripping sweat and a muted neighbourhood

Breaking free from a mouse wheel

Aren’t you tired of this perpetual circus
Always în someone else’s narrative
Ever since that time
When shadows were dancing on the walls of the caves
The narrative took the shape of a circus
Life narrates itself but
The script is written in someone else’s ink
The wise man said
Keep asking questions
Question on questions
If possible
Put your life on permanent scrutiny
Don’t allow others to spoil your soul
The wise man said
Think the good thought
Do the good deed
And your soul will elevate itself
From the shackles of this circus
The wise man said
Make an every day ritual
From thinking the good thoughts
From admiring every tiny details of this world
Learn the world from inside towards outside
Take your time, don’t rush out the peace that grows in your core
It is the ember of the force that will strip you out from the serpentine of this circus
Those bulls were drawn on those walls
You know, the cave’s walls
To keep the show going at all time
The narrator needed your complete addiction…
And after you worked on yourself
Liberated yourself from the mouse wheel
That this circus is
The wise man said
Love thy neighbour as you love yourself

Bad man in the house

Oh, no, no
The man is not bad
The world around him is
But who shaped the world
The man did


First he went for hunting
Killed his soul with that
Suddenly, the eyes of his woman had the same colour as the deer he killed
A permanent reproach he spots there
His soul died once again
When he slapped her
But his fury kept digging with every kill
He brought home
And you know what kills your soul even more
Justifying your wrongful deed
You had to survive so you kill any animal in sight
That was their purpose
You are the superior being


Not long after that war came into picture
Another contortion of the soul
Killing your own with a perfect fabricated motivation
Not even faith or God’s laws
God’s forgiveness can’t mend what is broken now
The most difficult thing to forgive yourself takes a huge toll
And to what avail, the killings won’t stop
They would become only more impersonal
More industrious, rigorous even
No, man is not bad
It’s Alien

Eccentric, a new trajectory

Far away from the center of it all
The different one is
Whom we must label
To ease our minds
To calm the fear of his eccentricity
Cause we must label everything
Put everything in boxes
That is the way we process things
Name and label, attach numbers
Keep everyone in the circle
The known circle

We are the different ones
We are out the circle staring inside
Craving for normality, for their perfect square boxes, elegantly labelled
We wear heavy make up
Glitter and shiny outfits
To be heard, to be visible
To own the right to be labelled
To spread the message we’ve been given
The message that bent our roots and pushed us out of the common circle
But you know what
We can always start our own circle

Out the circle, in the circle
With or without a label
Message delivered, message received or not
The world is still spinning
Progress is taken place
We grow

Industrial heritage

What is our heritage
What do we leave behind for our children
Huge metal cages
Corroded and reeking of desolation
Smearing the horizon with their blunt corners
Arabic digits numbering the corners
A geography of losers
Pyramids scraping the sky
The heritage of well preserved death
Preindustrial heritage but nevertheless
Industrious
Up in the sky huge birds of metal junk graviting on our orbit
On the ocean, plastic islands are glueing the waves together
Deep, underground the human mole stopped the grinding
Nothing left to chew
Industrial heritage
Our heritage
Chernobyl, Fukoshima, Nagasaki, Hiroshima
Oh, our poisonous heritage
The atoms enraged will spit their electrons back in our faces
Most certainly, that is our heritage
Wars elegantly coated in inspirational motivation
Gas bombs
Napalm bombs
Manipulation lollipops
Bullets and circus
Fake news temples
Preachers of no tomorrow

The real culprit

The real culprit 


Many, many years before

I was too a stranger on some well groomed boulevards

And guess what

On my earpieces Sting was singing about

His alien experience on the other shore

Everything was new and shiny

Sparkling smiles 

Talking about war like was a soap opera

But I learnt better

War is the best business for politicians

Peace is the only answer

But on those shores where

The victims turned into the abusers they also

Gone deaf to the peace wisdoms

On those shores

The intricate architecture of justifying war

Changed even the D. N. A 

So no matter how many bottles with peace messages we will throw in to the waters

War and distruction will thrive

Fear conquers all

Suddenly your brother is an alien

And you are right to spike him with your spear

And as the sun sets and the blood dries on your hands

That blizzard smile returns to your face

Victory makes everything right again

The genocide is justified

So God better mind his business


And I truly wonder if the peace wasn’t the real alien all along