koralydimitriadis

koralydimitriadis

About koralydimitriadis

Koraly Dimitriadis is a widely published Cypriot-Australian writer, performer, filmmaker and radio host. Learn more

Bourke Street Mall

I remember walking through you
before the rampage,
one of my favourite things to do

The clock chimes
No buskers play today
People sign condolences in notebooks
left by members of the public
The shops await me,
but it feels wrong
to buy that new skirt
I need today

Our city is crying flowers
They have fallen in the mall where you died
We all stand behind the railing,
dab tears behind sunglasses
can’t believe, read messages,
point at photos, try to dissect
what happened
among social media
snapshots

I wasn’t there when it happened,
when the man sped down our Swanston
then plunged into our Bourke Street,
a bystander described it as
people flying like Skittles

I feel like I should know what that felt like,
what it felt like to be there, at least
among the people running for their lives
running from the terror of our world
I feel it’s my responsibility to know what that feels like
because it’s my city, my place
and it could it have been me
could have been my cousin or my friend
could have been any one of us,
because we are all always down there

All too young to die
at the hands of a man
too insane to drive
It could have been any one of us
standing in those precise places
at that precise time
It had to be someone
It was all of you
I’m so sorry it was you

A busker starts to play music again
It sounds peaceful
Maybe that’s how
We will always remember

2017-01-25T14:25:11+00:00 January 25th, 2017|Poems (PG rated)|0 Comments

Faith in who I am as a person

(New Year’s Resolution)
Why is it, when bad things happen
I quickly and automatically
believe it to be a reflection on me?
On who I am, and my self-worth?

Bad mother
Bad person
Bad daughter
Bad friend

And then, I spiral
into dark places
where I am no longer me,
I become a deformity
born of my past pain
can’t separate me
from what happened
from what I did
and what they said,
it’s like me and this bad thing
become the same entity
I take on the bad thing’s shape
I become the bad thing
and I can’t see anything
other than bleak for miles

I lose all faith in me

But bad things happen all the time
in our everyday lives –
conflicts and disspointments
You can’t avoid interacting
or you may as well bubble-wrap

If only I could cushion the bad things,
seal and cover over my dark places
so then I wouldn’t fall at all
I’d just shrug and say okay
a bad thing just happened
but I’m going to be okay
I’m not a bad person
I’m just a human, just human
and I don’t need to
dive back into my past pain
I can refrain from
punching into the bruise,
yes I can take accountability
sure I can learn,
but I can remain on stable land
because it’s really exhausting
falling into that hole
Again and Again and Again
It’s really fucking exhausting

Faith in who I am
It doesn’t sound so bad
as a new way forward
Because when bad things happen
that are unpleasant,
they are just bad things
They don’t define us
or who we are as people
they are just bad things
and they’ll pass…

2016-12-30T23:54:37+00:00 December 30th, 2016|Poems (R rated)|0 Comments

What’s the worst that can happen?

What’s the worst that can happen?
I find myself alone on New Year’s Eve
Crying into a bag of chips
What’s the worst that can happen?
I die alone with no man by my side

But is that so bad?
At least I can walk down the streets
without bombs raining down on me
At least I can walk peacefully down there

What’s the worst that can happen?
I feel restless with nobody to turn to
because I’ve used up
all my need passes for the day
and I just have to stay with – ME

As agonising as that may be,
to sit and reflect on my life
and all the times I have fucked up
and contributed to my circumstances,
maybe if I dig deep enough
I can find some love in there
for myself, somewhere – maybe…

Am I the only one that doesn’t have
a bottomless pit of really close friends?
I can’t be the only one
who hasn’t got it all sorted
everyone else on Facebook looks like they do
so why don’t I? What’s wrong with me?

Home on a Saturday night,
with myself and a bag of potato chips
wondering if it is just me
or if this is all just being human…

2016-12-21T19:42:39+00:00 December 21st, 2016|Poems (R rated)|0 Comments

Most of Melbourne is depressed

Most of Melbourne is depressed
and why wouldn’t we be?
We only got just a handful of beach days
last summer, and the summer before that
and the summer before that
Why do people come here, I don’t get it?
Yes, we have a thriving night scene
Art coming out of every one of our pores
But we don’t have the essentials!
We don’t have the sunshine!
And when it happens to make an appearance
we scrummage for it like it’s lost treasure
(look, look what I found, I found sun!
quick, come outside, quick!)

People from all over Australia
come and live here, people from Perth!
I say, stay over there in your sunshine
Save yourself! Don’t come here!
It’s so cold and miserable here
you just want to step out onto the street
and have a car flatten you or something
Or like people from Brissy! Why would you?
Why would you do it? Don’t do it!

Most of Melbourne is depressed
because many of us came from somewhere else
people off the boat, too many wogs
Both my parents were born in Cyprus
therefore all of my DNA is Cypriot
and my body, my brain, is not meant for this climate
it needs long, extended doses of natural vitamin d
so it gets depressed and doesn’t want to extend past tomorrow
My DNA cannot acclimatise to misery and sorrow
It is meant to be enjoying summer 80% of the year

And where Sydney Road Brunswick is
in relation to my house, along that strip
there is meant to be a long stretch of Mediterranean sea
and I am meant to be elongating my bikini wearing body there
dreaming and believing in fairytale love
because my heart is Cypriot
and Cyprus is the island of Aphrodite
and everyone is in love instead of having
a virus which lasts two weeks where you are in bed
and the guy you are seeing doesn’t want a relationship
and has flown off to Ireland while you sit
and wait for him to come back even though
you know he isn’t the right guy for you
no guy can possibly be after your divorce
and so you analyse everything
and drive yourself nuts
because you are a wog
and you are not meant to be living here
you are meant to be living in Cyprus
but it’s not as if your problems
are going to eradicate
if you get over there
there’ll be fresh ones
because to them
you are an Aussie
and always will be
so either way
you are screwed!

This week catch me on radio 3cr 855 on your am dial at 9am on Thursday 31st for Spoken Word with Paul Kooperman and Maxine Clarke and on Sunday 3rd June 12-5pm at the Emerging Writers Festival Page Parlour, The Atrium, Federation Square selling Love and Fuck Poems also I’ll also be sneaking into open mic event during the day at Future Bookshop, NGV Studio to perform a poem. Hope to see you there!

2016-06-08T14:36:34+00:00 May 29th, 2012|Poems (PG rated)|9 Comments