Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

Archbishop Makarios Foundation, Nicosia, Cyprus


Archbishop Makarios Foundation, Nicosia, Cyprus

Screen Shot 2018-08-31 at 15.21.31

This is the museum where the frescos which were removed from the Byzantine Chapel in Houston are stored. It is no possible for the present to reinstate the frescos in their home, since that shapel lies within the Turkish part of Cyprus.

Malcolm D B Munro
Friday 31 August, 2018

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Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Contemporary Byzantine Painting: the work of Fikos


Hippocrates-632x900
Hippocrates, by Fikos, 2014. Eggtempera on paper, Dimensions: 30 × 21.5 cm

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The Birth of Wine, 2015

Sovann-Macha-Bangok-1-1368x900
Mural for the Bukruk Festival, by Fikos, 2016. Acrylics on wall, 23×13 m. Sovann Macha-Bangok, Thailand

Screen Shot 2018-08-30 at 18.18.33
Ikarus, by Fikos, 2014. Acrylics on wall, 10×3 m . Ibiza, Spain

Screen Shot 2018-08-30 at 18.20.19
Fikos Antonios in Kiev for Mural Social Club Festival/NGO Sky Art Foundation. (photo © Maksim Belousov)

Malcolm D B Munro
Tursday 30 August, 2018

All illustrations are from Orthodox Art Journal

Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Concept for Reestablishing the Byzantine Chapel, De Menil Collection, Houston, Texas, USA


A3 Byzatine Chapel image and text

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 30 August, 2018

Filed under: art, Arts, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

The Byzantine Project – Church of Panagia Krina, Vaviloi, Chios


Church of Panagia Krina, Vaviloi, Chios
The Byzantine Project - Church of Panagia Krina, Vaviloi, Chios

Malcolm D B Munro
Tuesday 28 August, 2018


								

Filed under: Current Events

The Byzantine Project – Church of Saint Euphemianos, Lysi


Traditional interior Greek Orthodox Church

The Byzantine Project – Church of Saint Euphemianos, Lysi

The Greek Orthodox Chapel in Cyprus where the fresco that Dominique De Menil rescued and restored belongs.

Malcolm D B Munro
Tuesday 28 August, 2018

Filed under: art, Current Events, history, Literature, Media, Memoir, Music, mythology, poetry, songs, stories

Paleons – Hyperborean


Paleons – Hyperborean

Malcolm D B Munro
Tuesday 28 August, 2018

Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Solid Is Not a Metaphor


Solid is not a metaphor
It refers to nothing else
But  itself,
As solid as is this earth,
And all upon it.
Even water and the air
All liquids, all gases
Can be frozen into a solid state.

To speak of a person as being solid
Is not a metaphor.
It is to say that that
Person comes across to us as such,
Is dependable, is real.
Is to say that that person is centred
Just as is the earth.

Such a person says what they
Mean and mean what they say.
They stand upon the solid ground
And can look you in the eye
And see you for what you are.

At their core spiritual
Just like the molten core of Earth.
To such people you cannot
Dissemble, you cannot lie.
For they will know
And you will know
That they are not taken in
By your abject foolishness.

Seek, those of you who float,
Spending your live uncertain,
Adrift,
To be like them.
For each of them
Serves to show
This is how you can be.

Malcolm D B Munro
20 February, 2016

Filed under: art, Current Events, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

The Bubble Burst


The sudden death
Sadness descending
Enveloped
The passing
The years
Time unheeded
Dull the ache unrelieved
And then
The bubble burst
And life returned
Joy again
Release
But still revered.

Malcolm D B Munro
Friday February 19, 2016

 

Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

In the Mirror Pain


In the mirror pain
One sees the face where it is plain
Of the life led hopeless.
One sees the marks
Of the fears one feels.
Of how intimidated you are,
At your life, and how it is led
You have all but forgotten
the person you were.

The disappointments, the setbacks
The fears
That you find difficult to face.
To stare down and say,
“I do not fear you, I will not bow.
“You cannot hold me in your
“Steel bound, iron cage.”
And yet it does; imprisons you.

 

And so you flinch;
It is too difficult to face
This pain in here.
That holds you, grips you,
Will not let go, this self inflicted
Irresolute, despondent life.
For you do not need
To respond this way.

 

You let its sombre shadows
Overhang you,
The morning after blue.
The fights, the disagreements,
Those times you did not get your way,
Where foolishly you leapt into the fray.
Where you willed against what told you
In your inner self, that you were wrong
To do what wilfully you did.

 

You gave up hope in black despair.
It has not left you, now chains you.
Weighted you are, freighted with these fears.
Stooped your shoulders, you gave in.
“These forces,” you thought,
“Overwhelm me. What can I do
“But just give up?”

 

 

And so you thought,
And thought and thought,
And stared into the air
Of black night’s sleeplessness.
And tossed and turned
Despite. Your thoughts are clear.
“I will no longer will in the mirror look
“But stand outside this mental space
“And see these thoughts for what they are
“These that fill the head with dark, dark despair
“That hang heavy on my heart
“And see them from afar.”

 

One morning bright you wake up
And in the sunlight’s shaft of light
Discover that the pain has gone.
Hope has returned, a new life begun,
You’re wiser now, you have conquered
Your despair.
Your self-gained knowledge now
Will lead you not
Into that dark place
Where before you lived your life.

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday February 18, 2016

 

 

 

Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

The Fog’s Shroud


The fog which shrouds the mast and makes of the ship a ghost,
And leaves it drifting, everything invisible,
Is lifting.

The fog which gripped the ship, making it still,
Barely heaving in the swell. The air thick and choking,
The eerie sound of silence.

The fog which bound the captain full of dread
For the rocks upon which the ship might founder
Threatening loss of life.

The fog which made of the sailors not sailors,
But skivvies scrubbing decks, sealing leaks,
Can turn to setting sail.

The fog, cleared by the wind, the sails fill and billow,
The prow cuts through the water, the foam spraying fish
The sailors back to life.

The fog having lifted, the bos’n takes the telescope,
The sextant glints in the sunlight
And by night, starlight.

The fog dispersed, the ship’s position certain,
Sets sail for its destination,
The crew content.

Malcolm D B Munro
Saturday, February 20, 2016

Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

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