The following 5 poems have never been published in magazines before. They are part of Serena Piccoli’s latest poetry collection “gulp\gasp” published by Moria Poetry (USA) in Autumn 2022, with a preface by poet, professor and essayist Adeena Karasick.
“An unstoppable flood of desire that is at once massively political, playful, negotiating contemporary local and global horrors, yet marked with an analytically observant, empathic regard for the interrelationship of lands, peoples, bodies and animals; invoking a texturally complex sense of humanity, interrogating all that we thirstily gulp down.”
Adeena Karasick, professor, poet, essayist (from the preface)
Poet David A. Romero says: “Serena Piccoli’s poetry is a hammer seeking to beat imperialist swords into ploughshares. Her harvest? A human compassion that crosses lines of gender, nation, and socioeconomic class. A reminder that the world is ours if we grow in peace and justice. Her poems cut with an incisive wit – – each line a blade separating the wheat from the chaff – – the truth from the bullshit excreted from the mouths of the powerful. Women, the exploited, the persecuted ethnic minorities, those affected by environmental destruction and imperialism, these are the people she values – – these are the people she stands with.”
“Piccoli’s poetry kicks ass and stomachs” Gabor Gyukics, poet
“Serena’s poetry is a slap of light. Her poetry is refined, intense, generous, it is inside our world, a world that fights for freedom, that cannot stand self-righteous moralisms, a greedy world that is going towards its catastrophe. Her words have a smiling voice, they cause restorative insomnia in those who are indifferent.”
Sandro Sardella, poet and painter
Ani Bradea, poet and journalist: “Her overflowing creativity, her commitment to social justice, her subtle irony and bitterness along with her imaginary poetic visions are all present in her poems. Her message is urgent and brave. She is a voice of this world, a voice that attracts our attention on social and political issues that we all must face. The poem “we’re the best\fuck the rest” is bold and daring. We should all listen to what Serena screams. Beyond all this commitment lies a delicate and pure soul that moves the reader.”
*. *. *
we’re the best\fuck the rest
we’re the civilized
we kill civilians for their own sake
we own democracy
we’ll sell it to you at a high price
you spread propaganda\we spread information
we rule and divide you
if we say you lie then it’s true
if you say we lie then it’s fake
whoever is near you – dead or alive – is our enemy
a baker who serves you bread must be killed
surrender to our explosive democracy
we’re charming\with bright teeth
we’ve created you\you’re now our enemy
but – hey – we warned you, buddy
we shape democracy\with our steel teeth
*****
I used to write love poems
I used to write love poems
to flowers/birds/my fiancée
but their grinding teeth have been too loud
sitting at their luxury table of lies and nails
their capitalist jaws laughing at us
4 incisors of exporting democracy
4 canines of oppression
4 incisors of brainwashing
4 molars of slavery
the prolonged grinding and grating of
4 premolars of hypocrisy
4 molars of stolen land
4 premolars of stereotypes
4 molars of injustice
I used to write love poems
but their grinding teeth
have been screaming and imposing orders
all our lives
with their
receding gums of hunger/malnutrition/poverty
cavities of police brutality
a crown of classism
a tongue for propaganda as their lingua franca
grinding, gritting with their
palate for coups
roots of state racism
the bad breath of disablism
saliva of male chauvinism
And no
no wisdom teeth at all
But
I have a tongue too and a voice and hands that write
I’m not your subject
I’m not your little fish
Keep your bloody teeth off my land/life/love/body
I don’t want a white father state
I don’t want your decrepit views on how I must lead my life
I don’t want your classist racist misogynist colonialist white
suprematist liberticidal oppression
I don’t wanna help you preserve the billionaire class buffet
or those in power who consume us to starvation
Julian showed us the diamonds decorating your table
saying
Quieta non movere et mota quietare
don’t move things that are at rest, and put at rest things that move
I still write love poems
and I also move
non ducor, duco
I am not led, I lead my life
I’ll never rest under your bloody bite
of torture and impunity
and your spit
of fake erosive rule
*****
greetings from autumn 2020
2 prominent Italians are returning their legion of dis honour awards
– France’s highest –
in protest at president Macron’s decision to give the award to his friend the Egyptian president al-Sisi
a good friend closes his eyes to
kidnapping\torture\killing
of
students\researchers\protesters
and other human rights violations
the 2 Italians accuse al-Sisi of being
objectively complicit
as head of state
in the criminal behaviour committed by his men
I turn the page and the rage.
Think of Giulio Regeni
and read on
an assistant professor in US has been called by colleagues
miss missy
honey hon
sugar pumpkin
cutie darling
girl ma’am
student secretary
sweetheart sweetie
I turn the rage
UK pm Johnson is increasing Britain’s investment in defence to its highest level
since the Cold War
this is our chance to end the era of retreat
transform our armed forces
bolster our global influence
defend our people
and way of life
a woman in her late 20s suffering from severe ME\chronic fatigue
has lost her benefits while looking for a flat to share with her fiancée in England
1 year quest and no penny from the state
her fiancée has lost her job – due to management of the pandemic
can’t find one
and of course no penny from the state that imposed the lockdowns
the young woman keeps being rejected
we don’t accept tenants on benefits
only professionals are accepted by the mortgage company
and the lit mag is asking me to write a poem
about my hopes for the new year
*****
those 2 hands
to the Kurds facing extradition
from Sweden and Finland
once upon a time a basket seller
entertained his waiting clients with a folktale:
2 hands of 2 different bodies
were considered respected\peaceful
jewels were worn on those fine pale fingers
who wrote different languages
one day the 2 shook hands with the Ghost of the Fleas
they moved and bowed to show approval of his acts
all fleas were inhabited by the shadows of bloodthirsty men
the Ghost always held a cup for blood drinking
a penumbra wandering and killing
needed to suppress shadows to expand his powers
one day the 2 hands signed the long memorandum
of his ghastly demands
they were ready to give up the shadows of their own people
for the Ghost to have them drown in muddy waters
but the 2 hands, the fleas and the Ghost didn’t know
that the only thing that never drowns is a shadow
*****
greetings from summer 2022
at 6 am every day I drive down to Marciana Marina
to watch 10 different species of fish
watching my goofy swimming
Elba Island and its blooming bougainvillaea
Roman ruins overlooking the azure sea
an old piazza and a little church perched on mountains
Beauty makes us resist
1000 miles from here
Tony Blair is being made a knight
his co-invasion of Iraq in 2003 ushered hundreds of thousands
into death and chaos
The constant fear
is the spring behind their
lawmaking\warmaking
B&B cast Saddam as a global threat
who possessed weapons of mass destruction
After 19 years has anyone found such weapons?
The constant fear
to oppress us all
imposed by the propaganda
of masters and arse-lickers
The fish in front of me
are whistling and wondering
what the hell I’m thinking
Tony Blair’s becoming knight in Windsor Castle
a few miles away from Belmarsh prison
where Julian Assange has been ill for years
and stuck in arbitrary imprisonment
unconvicted
for political reasons
for revealing B&B’s crimes
Anger makes us speak up
us and them
they’re feasting
while we’re fasting
we’ll eat the rich
while we’re watching fish
we’ll eat the capitalist prophet
while he’s dying to make profit
they’re fishing for our data
we’ll feed them with fatal feta
they’ll be starving
they’re not used to it
while bingeing on a fake buffet
choking on pork stew
they’ll tell us to obey again
but many will refuse
they’ll tell us to trust their mandate
but – gutted and disgusted – we’ll deconstruct it
The blue bay is too beautiful
to be missed – again – for their oppression
Beauty makes us survive
and you think fish are useless
*****
Serena Piccoli (she/her) is an Italian poet, photographer, playwright and artistic director.
Her poems and photos have been featured in magazines and galleries worldwide.
Her forthcoming book “gulp\gasp” was published by Moria Poetry (USA) in Autumn 2022 with a preface by Adeena Karasick. Her chapbook “silviotrump” (http://www.moriapoetry.com/piccoliebook.pdf) was also published by Moria Poetry.
Serena writes both in English and Italian about social political issues.
Twitter: @piccoli_serena
Cover artwork by Mubeen Kishany
