:: Article

Free dreaming

By Jana Astanov.

S1_2

Traces

Covered in paint
traces
I woke up inside Paris
my silhouette made a stencil
In fresh snow
puffed up
with large droplets of
rain
He just needed to hold me

I woke up late
after night of drinking light acrylic
watered with white wine
with lips
painted oil gold tripping

I did
I reached the heights
inside the city lit night
infinity deconstructed
in coloured memoir

In action
I went deeper
in rage
of blue and red
the childish self
experiencing
stained
by all the beliefs for nothing

Heavenly hellish
in cold bloody pattern
in violent strokes
in slaps
obsessive

With large droplets of black dissolving the skin
I made myself hungry

Pushing
through
to never satisfy

When he holds me
I want nothing more than to posses
the only eternity I didn’t enslave in my paintings

—-

Become

I wake up dreaming
in a dream I made of you

free
as declaration of independence

another little star on the sheets
accidentally made through the night
from pink paint
I couldn’t wash out

I try to take it backwards
make a print from the sheets onto my finger
carry it inside so it grows

the spiky arms make their way out
turning the female shape into the female star

would you want me then

or rather
take from politely arranged
mandalas
in what life should be
swirls of fifty dancing

in bed patched from otherness
national flags of mine

I wake up dreaming
of sugary sticky star shaped
kissing

you plant inside

a hungry doll I become
in a dream I make of you

—-

Free
I wake up dreaming. In a dream I made of you. Free as declaration of independence. Free from you in a dream I wake up from. Made of you. Free as declaration in a dream I’m dreaming, I wake up made of you. Free from you. In a dream of independence that dreams. Free. From.

—-

Dirty

I am sorry I cannot stay
I am too afraid of being attached

I am too afraid of your friends
family town nationality occupation ambitions

I am afraid of your complexes
the ways you deal with them
I am afraid of your declarations
your hopes
the way you trap me

promising
luring
like any man

I am afraid to believe you
to love you
to give you another page

I am afraid of myself being with you
bored jealous rejected
set aside for art
set aside for free women
once you enslave me

I wasn’t afraid of your touch
we were lovers for three days

I wasn’t afraid of your voice

until you called me
a dirty slut
of a man
who
was my husband
is
swearing at me
in public

whore extroverted bitch

I am not sure which of you
I should love less

—-

Clouds

I decided to stay
the size of your cock
grounds me

one more day
between heavens and new york

you take me to the beach
to race with clouds of amagansett
I feed you
dark chocolate ginger coated in sand

you ask to retell
everything
you are more patient than my lawyers
more human than my shrinks

but
I don’t want to talk
I can cry
I can fuck

so you keep the lights on
pouring dreams
into my eyes

male savage nature

as if pleasure wasn’t enough
as if giving me your hopes
could save you from the solitude

could save me

—-

Illumination

First I had to dissolve in the unknown, contradict and agree to what was, what could be. To tale the tale of my life I chose to die. Turn into a man, into a bird, into a demon in the mirror of snake’s poison, swallowing itself in the first biblical scene that was about to happened, with more meaning and more boredom in between the scenes, the moments I chose to reveal to state what really mattered but not discarding the beauty of the paradise that I suddenly entered while going through hell. I wished for paradise, but it was only another illusion. Oasis on the desert of pain and anger. Paradise of love when I lost it all, or when I am dead without realising, passing through the judgement, exiled from the streets of east village where I mingled with rats, prostitutes, drug addicts and taken back to the world I assumed long ago was the only one, with lover’s hand than strokes my face without bruising it. But now I cannot forget. I promise myself to get better, saying yes to the one that holds the key to paradise, the next one as if I could believe in love again. The only one now split like a broken mirror. I am pulling the shards to tell the tale that is no longer mine because I no longer am. I dissolved the pain and with the pain memories crashed like waves, like droplets.
Can I swallow the bliss? On his body that will never be mine as I will never be his but we see each other. Enchanted by our beings, if only! Only words are left, memory puzzle turned into visions.

—-

Fate

Fatedysphoric
absolute
never satisfied
insanity
eternal sad fortune of ours
lethal lilalike the lsd trip
that
lasted a year

—-

Baudelaire’s bug

naked poetry dive
promise of pleasure
naked soul, dead soul
ancient

illusion walking down the melting palace
romantic spleen on the rotten petals
like a bug
Baudelaire’s bug

when he/she was

—-

Residues

that Hegelian spirit from my sleepless nights
the one my therapist calls
dmt residues

the state when matter collapses
in a shadow of personal apocalypse

the void is waiting
for someone else

in overdose of meaning
I dare to forget

—-

Many

I had many lives
some of them
haunt me

—-

My American Dream

two more days
i will part with less

no hope
no desire

dreams bouncing against the walls of the emergency ward
the view from the hospital
is ugly

I am mute from scares
infamous
men still like me
for the shape of my thoughts
flattened stomach

I didn’t eat in two months
I am Kate Moss’s little sister
being driven around the city
in an ambulance
I can’t afford

I am mute from drugs
codeine to ease the pain
stuff
I can never remember the name of
to understand the cruelty

‘why’ echoes like an old vinyl
he doesn’t want to sign the divorce papers
he took it all
but it’s not enough
for him
he writes
letters
saying
‘I want to see you thrive’

I am on my way out
on the plane to Europe
expecting withdrawal symptoms

six hours of insomniac trans
and landing
without regrets
free from you America

there will be someone else’s arms
less alien less savage

spirituality
without the mind fuck

—-

Braque’s Prey

Him
who holds my body away
For others

Set in motion

He looked into me
Like at Braque’s prey

Fuck gently
Don’t throw
Into madly burning fires

I said to his eyes
Here is the flesh
Muscles shaped in the dance of Kali

Claim it
I’m yours through the dusk

Like a comet on elusive trek
Colliding with the earth-ship’s
Mass waters abyss

Find me again
On the ocean shore
Part the legs for waves
to foam

Lilly-white tingly dripping
In the darkest night
Of Solstice

I want it all
I want less

less less yes

—-

Thousands

I don’t believe in love for one man
but the flow that attracts
a cast of thousands

that’s why I am here
for the mystery of your touch
that sets me free

let me believe I can come back
unhurt by the battles

when others
take my mind away
from longing of what was
with you

in the mists of
green red nude

is it perhaps
just the flow that attracts

the same man
with different faces
burning for me

like the galaxies
mapped
crumbling the features
from beyond the time

like the ancient gods
in the waves of sound

—-

Strokes of Red

when the sea collapsed by my feet
with the sun at the zenith
I drowned into sand
pretending
to be a thousand year old
ambered nymph
or the Weston’s nude

voices of passersby shouted
dead

I found your name
whispered by an ashen spirit of a woman

made a wish to return

on the opposition
with the winter prayer for celestial sphere
only waves are invited only clouds
I want it all in the emptiness

like a dream within a dream
of six Russian dolls

I am July
awaken by the strokes of red

I bow with the sky
shapeshifting
divine

—-

Love Routine
I am not allowed to talk about certain things
I get my briefings on how to behave when and where
I answer my phone every few hours
I am always there

unless there is a younger women
that needs to understand
the vastness of the universe
and the depths of life
—-
Thanksgiving

rounded medium rare
like my heart
served on an odd thanksgiving plate
is getting cold

he takes a bite
enough to turn victorian ladies blue
in their porcelain dance

faster madonnas faster
move your legs
open up
stretch your hands to the edge
there is so much more outside this white slickness

charm him
loose clothes
let him lick your breasts
uneven slices of
ceremonial turkey

the hopeful thought
remains
like a teenage girl’s flesh
he can cut through
without gravity

I see things coming
things passing
I have no name no desire

I hold to my blind will
happy thanksgiving america

my second day of marriage
—-

Snowless Poland

It’s too cold to type
I dictate to my iPhone
Soon dead

It’s cold but not clear
My speech is frosty
Scabby mix of many years
Piled in unnameable feelings

Towards the country I was born in

Yesterday I was defeated
Today I’m uncomfortable

Dmt kicked in this morning
Taking me through the portal
Marked on the cover
of Chinese tennis
racket
The letters radiated of meaning
I no longer understand
Leaving me in remorse
I didn’t learn Cantonese
When I lived in Hong Kong

I was always from somewhere else
But I was from here
Neglecting whispers of my language
Now seeking simple words to describe
Take away cup
Electric socket
Lifting

The shame my fluency is murky
Like an effort to understand
Snowless winter

I’m a refugee
From the land
Occupied by the foreigners

I’m a refugee
In the remix of neons
In German French English
Offsprings of eurotrans
From the last economic battle of the XX century

We lost

—-

Sisters Lovers

that night when sofa turned into a cloud

shimmering object descended
from the sky ceiling
as a porcelain dancer
into my eyes

with gaze in layers
shuffling
the rules of space
multiples

through the act
of three dimensional overlay

love given to me
by your female form
pure laughter
mortals would trade in pleasure

organza doll
dancing on my palm
I will make you sing
to the melody
retracting the universe

every breath
in and out
in and out
in

we are sisters in heaven
shamans
in the worldly rush
for human suffering joy
eternity
not guaranteed

unless we hold each other
in a dream

—-

Nymph

Naked in the middle of the street
some shout
attention seeker
other call her indecent

but she is naked in the middle of the world
outside the control of any man any woman
the voices or rebuke scatter in the wind
those of praises
turn glorified on the sky projector

her ah her admire
free unstoppable
nude the wisdom
the goddess

on stage
vagabond in power
dragon with a female body
spirited gaze
that turns the innocent into revolutionaries

calling
to abandon the boring
the consuming the official
be the underworld
water land plant celestial
nymph
out of ordinary
dakini corps united

the creation
in life through death
the power
of all things and destruction
follow Artemis
the queen of hunting
be to this world

ravishing enraged naked

RED_TEMPLE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jana Astanov‘s performance training began with gymnastics as a child, followed by joining an experimental theatre group at age 15, which utilized aspects of Jerzy Grotowski’s technique. She went on to participate in Leszek Madzik workshops, a phenomenon of the contemporary Polish stage, with productions described as theatrical meditation. She has studied extensively in Poland, France, Spain, UK, and the US in the disparate fields of anthropology, sociology, philosophy, political science, literature, linguistics, arts & media, photography, and design. Her book Sex&psychedelics is a memory puzzle she started through her therapy as a patient of NYU research team conducting a study on ptsd. The book is part memoir, part anthropological investigation on love, sex and psychedelics within the context of contemporary culture, and through the prism of her marriage to a writer Daniel Pinchbeck.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Saturday, February 7th, 2015.