“TRAVELLING IN THE SPACE-TIME” is a Greek fanzine published by a group of people with poetic temper. It’s a self-organized attempt for a periodical of free writing and distribution of poems without price or intercessors. Two thousand copies of every issue of the fanzine are printed with money raised by the group members and sometimes by voluntary donations from friends. The distribution takes place “hand to hand” and in selected places (like social centers, squats, cooperative café-bars etc) always without price. The motto of the team is: “no one can be a poet if not everybody could” to encourage people to write and send their poems for publishing in the fanzine.
At the time (2016) there are 15 issues of the fanzine which have hosted more than one hundred individual poets. The common themes of the poems have to do with politics, social corruption, love, death and personal demons. The poet is free to choose any topic except racist or religious themes. Also, in every issue, lyrics of an underground music group and of an anti-conformist poet are included. Moreover, a very important part of the fanzine is the paintings which surround every poem to pluralize the fanzine in a more artistic direction.
Finally, numerous nights of poetry are organized by the team of “TRAVELLING IN THE SPACE-TIME” on the streets or at self-organized places, including social centers and squats. At the end of these nights a collective poem is written by all the participants using the Dadaist method of exquisite corpse. These poems are published in the next issue of the fanzine. In addition, the team is participating in solidarity activities for anarchist political prisoners and for immigrants and refugee assistance.
Also, a collective poem:
You say
you love flowers but you cut them
You say
you love birds but you capture them
You say
you love me and I am frightened
Expectation, day after tomorrow, a path.
Dark hearted.
The house here hosts the stars
Let’s see if beautiful words are to be heard
To find love
War; its coming late
I have a daughter. Freedom.
Here is a collective poem written by the audience and the members of the team:
The gathering is starting but the people are scared and didn’t come. Why?
Trapped in fear, enclosed in gloom. Wake up!
The passion for less work is what inspires us in the working hours.
The truth is lying at Sex Pistols.
I would like to wake up one day and everything to be far away…
At which price… to sell sadness for buying my joy.
When death will come I want to feel satiated.
When death will come my smile will speak, to say only one silent word, indiscipline.
For a creative zero at the fire of chaos.
Into the endless journey to nowhere…
A poem from the last issue of the fanzine:
I hadn’t talked to myself for a long time
All these routine activities took me away from my real needs
But we met each other again this night
And from now on
I started to search
I recollected my forgotten dreams
I listened to the peaceful music
And then
I quit everything
I came out in the streets
Looking for the fire that still burns
