Sunshine Faggio

Biography

Sunshine Faggio is an Italian poet and translator. She has a BA Degree and a MA in Translation Studies. She has two collections of poems published in Italy (2009 and 2012) and her last collection will be out in January 2014. In the last years, she has started to combine poetry with performance art. The most outstanding result of this artistic research was the body performance Humans, showed at the Hackney Wicked Art Festival 2011 and at the Yard Theatre in October 2011 (http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xllanv_humans_creation). Some of her English poems have been published on the American liteary e-zine The Scramblers and on the English magazine The Delinquent. Sunshine took part to various Italian literary prizes, she writes a blog www.chicasinwonderland.blogspot.com and lives in London, where she works part-time in the field of education, dedicating the rest of her time to the activity of writing, melting it with painting and performance art, and literary translation. In the English capital she organizes bi-monthly poetry readings to which took part many of the habitués of London spoken word circuit.

Samples

I. RITUALS Human beings need to hurt themselves. They socialize and ritualize forms of masochism. Our society is fraught with them. We have capitalized the leftovers of tribal courage. II. JET SET You don't know how boring it is to sit down at a table listening to conversations about the new watch of Patek Philippe, about how to advertise on Vogue and private bank accounts. I wish I was brave enough to get so pissed to lose my senses, vomit all my rage on those white shirts and then slowly fade away. I wish I was crazy enough to get undressed, climb up the table and yell to these people that money buys everything but no salvation, that we all dwell in the same hell. But I am just here sitting down writing these not really inspired lines, downing my fifth glass of excellent rosé wine, getting silently drunk. And it feels good being wrapped by the sour patina of intoxication oh God! if it feels good despite all the useless chatting. III. TRIPTYCH I. I am sitting on a stool without a leg. Closed eyes, I think. My soul is slipping away, it turned into a pink sticky jelly. Now that I see it I am surprised, I didn’t think my soul could replicate the exact silhouette of my body. My soul out of me seems a shadow, only thicker. II. I fell from that stool. I lie on the floor now, a wounded leg my vision blurred my soul condensed. It is purplish now. With my eyes I look for my limbs. They are dead. III. You are sitting on a different stool. You survived even without feet. You, my love, that lost your soul centuries ago without even getting a glimpse of it. You’ll certainly live for long with your skill to fly high your ability of not looking down of not drilling inside you. You, dozing through centuries pretending to be. IV. DANCE OF DEATH I never understood Frida better than I do now sitting in the dark of this closed box. Anguish my womb exploding creatures colonizing my organs. I wish I hadn’t done that. Partially reversible. Partially murdering. Virgins are dancing inside me they dance and suffocate me. I became lame but it was not the polio. Dance of death. The sleeping pills will have their effect soon. V. ALL THAT JAZZ I decided to embrace contradiction to make it my essence instead of evading it. Reality is heavy: I cannot mould into it. I do not think society isn’t on a human scale anymore it’s me that I wasn’t made on a society scale. I am 27 and found out I don’t like the rules of this world, its silly and useless tricks. Its pace alienates me. I cannot be part of it. I, I just want to watch the ceiling and listen to jazz.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.