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.

Love of scratch (Take 1)

To love the scratch means to love the freedom of blank.

To come to the end and start again to me it means so much.

So much as the sound of the next word that will come to my fingertips uninvited

so much as the vowels and consonants kiss each other when I tell them to.


It is my passion, I forget it and leave it and it haunts me back again

it is a lover I cannot escape and a lover that makes everything terrestrial to forsake...


The passion of people meeting with each other and their sounds and meanings making a new meaning like these very words hanging out tonight on a white screen of black symbols.

The meeting after a long time becomes even more passionate and lustful

and I give you a stupid stupid metaphor to describe the noesis that

some of us desire to experience as we travel,
travel,
travel and long
to see further than this horizon...

utter

To utter,

You are in a room. You live with the objects of the room. You take it for granted that the objects of the room are supposed to be in the room. Like you take for granted of a metaphor.

Because we are supposed to know what transfer means.To transfer the meaning onto something else that looks like it in a simpler or untold (of) way. You take it for granted because it is there in language and thus it has been said. But it has not.

And so I choose, in an afternoon when I do not remember whether I have slept really or not,or spend the night with eyes closed without escaping to a world of unsconsiousness to consciously get out of the room.

I hover over it. And look at the objects that are alike and those are supposed not to exist or to exist because we demand that they do. I quiver at loss and am enthuzed by birth. I hover over. Over the room and over sleep.

I utter simple words in search of utter...pleasure or achievement.

Whether pleasure in achievement or achievement in my pleasure I figured it does not really matter, so long as I am blessed to hover over ...

and that allows me to relish in the utter...

an adjetive that may fit everything...

when you cannot see your heart

Haha...No...Let not go...To lose it means you played.

The play YOU choose. hey and the outcome, too, NO, Two.

The words are small tonight, the words are tiny. The heart is shrunk,

the heart forgets, No, the brain does, the heart hurts.

It hurts it hurts to speak to be for being means the heart in pain is reality.

Believe the brain you shall forsake disdain then you must sell your soul

to another Play, and the words shall come closer to console

but you must lose for momentary loss shall be your saviour

to believe the Heart

and when you cannot see your heart tells your brain what to show your eyes...

i party you business love party you

I love you, you love me and life is true in no need of similie.

and what about bread, and what about the bare necessity?

it all is born through two parties spilling wine on wintered skin.

Give me business, give me meaning for I love and have the will to live.

The glass door closes but my friend and I do know we may break from words

that linger in minutes that burn with no necessity.

because we love, because we fly because we know that in our hearts we have

that sigh

that sigh of love, that sigh of work, that sigh of bye

we have no reservation with the word "fuck off"..

but we speak kind though we speak true and yet we manage to lie in truth

because we lay in calls prolonged or contracts that could never have been signed off

but still we love, and yes we love, each other, those two men and the world too,

believe we do...

maybe we will party, maybe we will do business

surely we shall fly... we have been flying

this year much higher is what we are trying..

sex inscribed on body

They . are all habits. We learn to do. Do we learn to love or pretend to know love?

We learn to show the love. The smile, the happiness like a pill swallowed which has fulfilled its purpose.

Funny. What seemed like the fairy.. tale was stupid and cemented, for me not. And what seemed untrue- unreal -undrinkable, unedible is the piece that completes my puzzle.

Yes. The princess is never a happy one in fact. She marries a prince, the one who is meant for her. Those unions of no meaning to those who impose them are those which mean love to me.

That picture or that outing to show we are good and this is how the story is good.Who cares I ask? Most people actually do. Whether yes or no, the truth is anyhow, my world, you.

The beat, the door, has opened in my you, and I
feel apple, feel open to exude you and against
all cracks of uncertainty of hollywood dew.

flex, breathe, flex breathe
and nurture that nature


of love.

The word I am choosing is heterology

Heterology,

When one woman does not correspond to the bag of the other, rather, the beige and brown square pattern of her brain.

When one man chooses silicone roundness over feeling well in one's skin even if it is another's.

The joy is too good, the joy is too bad when you relish in knowing what others do not.

Different origins may be the explanation but what if we had the chance to meet at a point?

The rivers run, the rivers meet, the rivers leave, the rivers carry.

To love in true colours generally is good sometimes too blurry for those purposes of what we call " the material life."

And let those who cannot write write, and let those who should not show her face show.

And hide the beauty in places that protect it. and show it because there are some who can still and will see it.

the words, stupid, will burn with the laptop in some centuries, the papers will wither in dust but the DNA-smart... will keep on going ..keep on loving truly for ever and ever.

fireworks in where?

Fire works in an unexpected way... flames up where you thought sea breezes would dance...

A horoscope is all to blame.. the way your scope counts back time..look back and you shall turn to stone...

and then on a foggy day you may see down the road of your windscreen the full times you have lived and did not know they would later come back to love you...

when the sky is clear it is too clear to see the love of clear...

but fog always brings love, love for what you cannot have ... for what you had and what you have always..love..

fireworks in my heart...

they blame a fat valve for my fast heartbeat. I never knew I was a multi-valve BMW of heart...
It turns out I am a sport Turbo Nitro multi-valve quite a lot of horses heart..

catch me if you can... my heart is unbeatable because it beats so fast and there is a little pill we call in Greek "hapi" a pink pill in fact that slows it down...

but too much of it... I was warned may stop it forever...

so let us have little by little.. because when it all of its power affects those neurons of heart... the heart stops....

hopefully by then I will have left another heart to beat as fast for me and the world...