Hello

My Other Self. Broke. I have no currency to pay. I have some to say.

Blend. Extend the freckle of the paint. Mine make it believable and Enjoy the lure of the white whine.

Dry, I prefer it, the bleach which whitens my esoteric skin of blush. Brush the hairs of your tenticles.

Breathe then out towards the outwards of the Forward despite these pities you once felt. Abstract.

Do not become what he wants, rather make it his waning become lost in the want.

foreclosure feeble trick of mind to be unfaithful to. To the operation of the union.

whereby, and yesterday became wilder than you had imagined.

It is okay. Tell your Other self that. and the other one can say I do not know.

But. But what does the but butt in.

Bad word. Do not use that in poetry do not use that in poetry.

Make it sound, the operative word being Poeisis.

I smile, I laugh, I am happy.

open sky

eruption

of the repressed. Those who know the words but not their relationship with the beach.

Illusion of the white cloud is true for you to be true and be fake and be blue and be open.

You. You cannot forget or erase the melody of your own shell. It signs the tune of sea salt down your skin.

Dried up, now will it crack or blend in?

Will you perform the paradox or will nature take the course for you?

Learn a new skill. To excavate. Sea-shells from the bottom of the sea.

The bottom of the sea, the bottom of the sea is closer to your legs you see.

The knife is handled by another to crack it open and what

What

What

what

and the music doesnt

and the language disjuncts the necessity of meaning

spelling the touch is possible when I am not writing.

you, you must live a simple life sometimes.

Some times the simple life is possible when the rest is possible.

And the meanings become entangled with lips and hair and hands.

The union brings about fragments of a deep break, one never wished

but not resisted, the union desired desired desired through a word

that will always lack not the size, but the openness of the want.

The want liberates, the want then restrains, the want liberates, the want restrains
and only through its repetition in moments can you realize its purpose.


There, there, here and here, where, where can I find you again?


No. I do not want to find you again. There, here, here where, there cannot

be exalted, the disjunction brings so much pleasure that it is not possible to know.


To really know the object of the object of desire.

Now, there is only my subjectivity undoing itself.

ThePerfect Love

To envelop or not to envelop... to elope to another address... of love

lava of topos to burn into what... the question maintains the wonder

of life to elope, elope, into a slope of unregretted desire

desire question one and the same and the movement makes you even more

hot with charge to attribute or untouch the death of the altitude to be

un less triggered for the line wonders above in surprise
To be the selff you do not know

caught off guard with yourself... hello did you know

that all you are is the anti-thesis put yourself into NOT

well come and well go and remain within because you never can tangibly leave

who you are

are is the non-event of what you will discover

Won- Der and dare dear dar and cling to the non-safety net of believing

the non-existence of what you thought was your desire...


De-tect, de- fect and de-rive

the article of absolute thesis of

story mould into out of pathos

the lathos that breaks your ineffable pure essence

which you inscribed upon yourself insistently.

You still are pure ... even



when you decide to hurt your one and only ideal in life...



THe Perfect Love.

creative poetry

The making of another thread of wonder.

To ask for the single unique respect of a train of thought

is to think there is one side to a mirror.

Feeling separated or not, the binaries have becomes particles

to the puzzle of the view.

The breeze turned wind of storm is brushing the heart with strokes of freedom.

The mind agrees, the intellect disagrees and the unconscious revels in the scenario of craze.

Wake up and smell the summer deep within thy bossom will you find the liberation from

chains you strained yourself with.

You, and only you must read the secret of the escape and regroup and review and relive
fight of the matter.

It is not matter, it is not a fight: a bespoken suit borne upon
a fuel of skin and eyes that do not meet.

When the mouth speaks through desire she destroys the shrine of her shell

cracking it open and closed only to turn into more

blooms of choices of water.

embrace and caress me for I need to tell myself that nothing.

Nothing can explain I, only you can caress what you see.

If you do.

but I am free at least, in this present moment.

Mantras written for Zoe

The muse has returned my lover. Welcome I am powerful.

I am powerfuel through the pink orchid. She has stolen my obsession.

Virtuous,Fecund staring, her fleshy leaves framing her height of open buds,

like a fountain.

She needs no one. no more or less than once a week.

The sunshine delayed by cottons of water fixed with pins on her yellow aura.

She came after I opened my eyes.

My company grows stronger as the day moves away from the night.

Be warned myself. Breathe. Be warned.

The deepest of the night, the fathomless depths of the black cannot. Cannot.

Wake up or stay awake your fuel is you. wake up your fuel is your Deter-Emanation.

wake up your fuel is your love for life, for true virtuous life that blossoms like your lexis

made of logos first other than others.

Other come, other leave, embrace and elevate to the sublime List of Dreams

when awake.

Questions

You love to lose, you love you lose

what does it mean other than my pink flower's gaze at me

Means no more of what I envision it to be seeing

though through itself can it only stare through I

Therefore overlap the flower's lap with mine calculate plus

minus; Zero wrong or right to add or subtract in love?

To withdraw words or to extend a lip of faith?

Quest- and Ions of energy push but do not pull the bud falls

according to some OTHER science of Affect.

It affects me. Deeply. I admit.

It hurts. It hurts more than these words of mine can say.

but then you must dare to live

Everyone has to learn and to unlearn.

On the edge of the colour you contemplate

about the tree within the forest

the one forgotten about the one always remembered.

Where does the one path go and not if not anywhere?

The ellipses of coma precludes its presence, welcome consider this.

If we learn to unlearn then can we claim we forgot?

To forget means you once got it, no longer do, but has its existence been annihilated

between the poetry of your feeling and knowing?

Open then and close you will find it hard to disclose in a space that does not exist,
only in metaphor.

Come and go, leave and live, be grateful for the words they ease the pain of not knowing.

ever.

Unconscious, take a break.

load ing

it turns out the load is heavier than expected.

it turns out the turns are unexpected.

Inside it is all worn out from tearing itself inside.

loveliness is finished.

pure shores have disappeared when the heart has learnt to love and to attach itself

onto a boat that has taken it around the world of gravity

to float is rare, to sink is common.

when stars are so far away and are already dead when their light reaches me, where else can I look to

to believe that love can do wonders

I wonder I wonder I wonder

other than you

Good and gone

I became friends with
myself again
yesterday.
Ignored the clicks, the cracks
and the spasms
of furniture
molecules breathing,
of the window pane reacting
to Celsius' drop.

I dropped the dice
and threw myself out of
myself

to become me
in search for a wonder
that can heal wounds of ghosts.

Those who are dead
I can but do not dare

speak to.

Those alive, I believe,
are unable to under

stand

me and myself
in conflict for voice
or in love with silence.

The anti-enactment I procure
turns on as noise

verbing or unverbing
the ping pong of nothing..

Explain what you cannot explain.
Done. Now where can I find liberation?

On a snow flake, maybe.

alone self in space

connection

believe me or do not. The raw is that which has rendered me the mantic of the body's instinct to fly, sorry, to soar. why an excuse.

tis' not it is, tis' the sound of the drum that whispers my power demonizing the effort

to be normal, out of the wild into the comfortable...

I am comfortable in the hesitance of sole or soul attitude

no named, abandonded born exile, born misunderstood beautiful or nurtured shadowed away

for better or for loss I am in myself to endorse or embody that portrait

my poor trait of loving, loving the comma and the period of the trance

when I am entirely lost

in my own DEAL, I deal the universe.

Re0turning

Coo-
If you want to nest in the niche your song plays you have to learn not to want the rest. When everybody is not I shall be futuring my existence by quitting smoking.

Some Saturday ago I went off the road, it is true. An actual fact the policeman wrote down in the report.
I told him it was not my fault, something else pushed my Mini off on the grey bars of the cliff and someone danced my soul around before I pulled the hand break.

You see I might speed and might not drive when I should but I refuse to fall off a cliff.

And miracles do not happen anymore they say. We are all blind I say.

I danced with anger on the opposite side of the road and it so happened no car sped down that turn. Fusion and fuss of my broken wheel. She is lurking, not when I see a cigarette but when it is not there to tell me it is okay.

I had a minuscule white choke friend who-who smoked my fears away. I thought I would let it go

but then my mouth breaks down in inarticulate blazes of non-smoke.

You were born without it.He tells me. I hate being told more than quitting.

I was born without much. I inherited everything and the blurr of smoke tattooed itself on the aura of my existence.

Now, I am drowning the smoke in the Aegean sea of non-hope.

I gather my little fingers and shall draw my dreams of blue abroad.

Πουθενά

Εδώ δεν πρόκειται να επέλθει

η πυρά δεν κατασταλάζει πέρα
απο το θρόισμα των κυμάτων

Πέταξε μακριά η ελπίδα για αυτό
που δεν θα έπρεπε να γίνει

ευτυχώς ευτυχώς ο τοίχος στάθηκε μπροστά
και με κράτησε πίσω όπου ήσουν δίπλα μου

γελώντας με τους νικητές που γιόρταζαν τις ήττες
τους μιλώντας σε γλώσσα ξένη, για φέρετρα και απάτες

ξεχνώντας να θυμηθούν η δική τους τι τους λέει η ίδια η γλώσσα

Δεν πειράζει γιατί η αλήθεια μου δεν διστάζει να υπάρχει
στα σκοτεινά εκεί στην ανάμνηση που ανάβει
μόνο στην καρδιά που γνωρίζει να αναγνωρίζει

την απέραντη θάλασσα.

words come back

I realized my voice became a crystal Speaking to eyes
I was unpeeling an orange to emit its juice as if
the eyes would realize I was opening a window3
For them into a corridor, they started walking
a balance Of symbols they could use to lead them to
the breeze rocking your boat, float, caress your face

when scared to be alone on your boat do not .
What turns the secret sea into a crystal? My voice into
My heart becoming lost, its balance has a fortune that
can salt water and grow a fruit like an orange.
There is no going back when you walk into that corridor.
Especially when you stare at every window

which is closed. You have a window I told you
within you if only my boat you board
walk scary a corridor It is not that down
When you hold my crystal offers you my finger
dark blue Within me orange is it your touch ?
It is colour. You see the balance is loneliness needs its reason

Of colouring, when the balance is alone it has no colours
Out of which it can be a difference, what they are is a window
To being what they are distinct, together, many of them are orange
When they fall asleep in imagination they paint their boat
Carrying the psyche of their being a balance before it becomes a crystal
I wonder then where to one must walk when there is no corridor?

dark You imagine it. A long corridor is like a narrow pathway.
Only not. Close Hold me. Your balance will you have found
By the time you change the crystal of my coloured
human on the boat
It is just how words can fool you
when you do not look out of their window
If you do, you will find that this word
can be part of your story orange

make it orange though the time is up to you to make it
you do not need to walk down a corridor if you like
Fly instead without worrying about the boat
So long as you hover you will be in balance
pull the blinds and transfer my window
Look out, look out of the window, there is the crystal

Of my words on the boat painted orange
Like my own crystal shining down the corridor
Of your balance now look, look out of your window.

Λίγο πρίν

Η δύναμη εισ την Ν
αυτό που μερικές φορές
ονομάζομεν ζωή"

Την πάλεψα με ονομαζόμενον
άλλονν ννικητή

Σου είπα πως αυτός που νικά
τον λένε παρα-νομαστή;

Μέσα απο την σάπια
αρχαιωμένη βασιλικιά
φύτρωσαν φυλλώματα
λευκά--

Η αλήθεια ήταν αυτή και είναι
που με κυβερνά

Με μια ουσία καρκινική
με ένα καπνό που για μένα
αναπνέει "ζωή
Παρα- μιλώ

Παρα0κολουθώντας

μια θεά πάνω-Γραμμική

Το τρίτο γράμμα μου εις τον Θεό
το έχω αποστείλει εδώ και καιρό

Η επανάληψη Μαρτυρική--

Η αποκάλυψη του φεγγαρό -φωτός
παρελαύνει Ειδ-Ηλιακή--

Αλήθεψα το σ'αγαπώ,
το έσπασα σε ένα γραπτό
μετέλαβα το αυτό λεπτό

Τελειωμό δεν έχει το βουητό
της αθάνατης γραφής
το πιοτό.

Το μόνο σίγουρο είναι αυτό

Εγώ, εσύ στα έγκατα

του Σ'αγαπώ.

Υπάρχουμε

that picture of myself

Not all pictures are the same. Of oneself.
I look different this time. To you it might look the same.
The same as yesterday, the other day when you were not looking.

Then you take my picture and piss me off. I am pissed off because I love you deeply.

And the two of us me.meet. My picture and myself.

You piss me off because I love you.

I will not wash your dishes. I will wash up your soul.

You piss me off because you found that picture of myself

your eyes can only see.

Greek Friend-ship

Frienship is the one ship if you can handle

you will own the tempests and the sea-calm

if you can handle the ship will rock

the luggage and the waves

in many more than one ways than you will drown.


The salt-water makes you remember like tears do.

Your language of origin will show the colour of your skin.


She, born to swim, lays on the roughness of rocks

the fury of the deep blue Aegean chose to quarrel with them

for they eternally let themselves be eroded by remaining there.

Born by the wind, the rocks and the sea
the foam of the she,
I took a picture of myself

stray parvenu stay

Pride and humility, they are on the same page, on days of silence

they share, in the wooden library.


Greek slang meets French along with English way of speech

too many cooks in one head I have become swelled,

a parvenu, caught in my own gone spell



I have lost my touch and No I have felt not

because Humility tonight speaks in dis-drain,,

The Down of the wheel has led myself astray,,,

into a grande damme, a peacock, that wants to speak all the same:


"when you look at her she will not speak,

when you shall caress her soul then she sings"




I forgot that if you remember

that you forgot you do escape doomsday

with a bit of foolish rhyme and rocks to walk removed from my favorite bay

I jump on ghosts of souless sand and sea-spray...


Now remember what it was to be when it was a young day

Foolish and astray I mispell my present say

but now I shall believe the older and in the oldest day

where I my rock removed from sea to stop the wave.

wading in limen in wonder

You are alone. Some times.

ANd yet not. There is you. Me.

I am telling you that what matters is not that you are.

What matters is the times you wake up from the dream you are not.

But you are not. And are. And I. I am a fake or a true force within you

that tells you what you want. And what you want changes with seconds

and you want you back and you never return the same second as the previous one back.


And that which you love shines it is your little game, not a consolation, a game that you know how to play very well with words, and you shall juggle them

into the right mode of lonely less

there is love beyond language and there is no word for it

and for that reason alone you may me smile.

I am afraid of speed Take two (Experiment)

The road is empty. We get back on the main. I did not notice.
Road after taking the wrong turn. the breath of on my face.

You press the gas.rooftop sky.
Found on the end of the road I was looking at 10 seconds ago.
the fear we would always die.

Stop. I am tired. sidewalk.
In that case we may return. I did not notice the faces that will notice me.

I do not want to return. In a hole.
I still want to go. I can't take speed. In a whole in you.

I never was one to lose control. you not being there at all.
I never was one to let things out of my hands, a crack in the wall
except when it was not up to my hands.

I want it slow because it goes so fast. the fire still burning down on me.
I want it fast only when I have had too much to drink. a hole in you.
I want it fast when there is no one else. not real, not true, not me, not you

Yet I want the control, I want to win when I lose when I look it is all I see

and I want to adore, adore Life.