Friday, October 22, 2010

ΚΑΤΙ ΗΘΕΛΑ

Κάτι ήθελα να γράψω
έν' απόσταγμα σοφίας
μία θλίψη συγκυρίας
με το δάκρυ θα υπογράψω

Κάτι σκέφτηκα να θίξω
σαν συναίσθημα λεπτό
μα προτού να το σκεφτώ
βιοπάλη θα μυρίσω

Κάτι θέλησα να πω
μια πελώρια ελευθερία
σε μια κρύα ειρωνεία
αμιγώς θα σκλαβωθώ

Κάτι μπήκε στο μυαλό
σαν πολύχρωμη μανία
μια θεόμουρλη αμαρτία
μα ξεχάστηκε κι αυτό

Κάπως ήθελα να ζήσω
σαν παιδί κι εγώ μικρό
τόλμησα να ονειρευτώ
όμως τ' όνειρο αυτό
σαν νεκρό το πήρα πίσω

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

BRAVE FAKE HOPE

My brave new fake hope
in my cobwebbed mind
saw you 've returned again
thin voice like thunder
in all though vain
suppliant of continuity
in an unbearable life
common for all, diachronic liar
for all the modern stressed
full of thorns plants
training in a school of nothing
for a future of better intakes
financially of course.
Hope whore you annoy me
you 're a present disease
you walk around our streets
you paint everything in pink
while heaven awaits
six billion suicide victims...

WHAT I LIVE

I live by default only in two states.
Strength and disillusionment.
A strength that is healthy, selfish, oppressive,
some times reassuring but other times rabid.
But always a strength secure, natural, made out of
water and air, a piece compatible with
my existence and I adopt it in full harmony
inside my cry.

And then disappointment, a goddess forever
pointed bearing cold gifts.Feeding on people being social.
Out of a haunted world but redeeming,
made out of fire and frost,
far more real and honest than anything else,
incredibly persuasive and absolute.
I fancy welcoming her in all formalities
thus honoring her.
Knowing that she is the womb of all my ideas.

Monday, February 8, 2010

LEAP

I want to be like my cat
a careless walk after the rain
in a drawer out of aggravating matters
a nefarious employee of a civil couchette
trying to see the spire
on Antifont's bed
that constantly expands
meaning of life?
or easy poetry?

(for all the drug addicted poets)

SHIPBUILDER

As I was being built by the shipbuilder
under a perfect frenzy
two angry winds
sickened his hand,
for a trickle got lost
the eminent equilibrium.
Friend one with the water
is never born.
Thus I saw as lamentation
my first sailing.
But as soon as the golden showered sea
married my spotless wood
a sweet conscience of acceptance
dressed my head.
Yearning for the winds
to be my adversaries
in black unfortunate open seas
lay peaks to master
up on the grey wounded horizon
seeking for its blue.
Always inside my madness
there's a concern melting me
for my imbalanced deck
that sails over the waves.
Laughing times go by
and angry seasons
but now my sight
in wailing expires
on a magic sequence
of islands
thousands of hidden paradises
with a charming amnesia.
They never concerned me
or drunk I'd forget
small indifferent wastes
that quietly got more and more.
With acute power and bravery
swallowed tons of water
until on a dead beach made of darkness
without realising a thing got shipwrecked.
I stand arid
forgetting the sun
which goes up and down like mad
always getting away
becoming homesick of the foam
constantly cursing
a sinister shipbuilder
that ruined my glory
before I was even born.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

POISONNING

Cries of joy, voices
new life's fires
festive splendors of pleasure
out of control fertility fair
embryonic whirlwind of creation
Satiated on immense heights
Undertaking monstrosities
seeking moderation and harmony,
words and deeds, in one head
beauty, in two hands responsibility
and the air now in a plain room
Actor and then man
For now thick silence, death's veil
Wear it as your mind goes dry
Haven't escaped the grim reaper. So be it,
since everything is closed
Dreams where did you get lost?
Full of joy we 've opened the windows
for the end's arrival
our most proper mother
thus singing a salvation song

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

ΑΡΝΗΤΙΚΟ ΦΟΡΤΙΟ

Ρευστές εικόνες ανταλλάσσουν
αποχρώσεις, μεταπηδώντας από
άβυσσο σε άβυσσο κραυγάζουν
ν' ακουστούν μες την ανία

Κλεισμένοι μάγοι σε φαράγγια
λουσμένοι με μια νυσταγμένη
λάμψη, υπολείμματα σωμάτων άγια
κι η αμφίεση ν' ανεμίζει απαστράπτουσα

Ενοχλητική σύγχυση αγνώστου
ποιότητας κι αιτίας να παιδεύει,
καθώς κάθε ματιά ξεβάφει
ότι αγγίζει, σαν ζάλη περιττεύει

Ανόητοι κι όξινοι αιωρούνται
οι ήχοι, με μια ειρωνεία
κι οι δειλοί σ' αυτό αρκούνται
εφ' όσον ενυπάρχει ευφορία

Μ' ένα αργό μπλε
να πλημμυρίζουνε το χώμα...

ΚΡΥΣΤΑΛΛΙΚΗ ΚΑΘΑΡΟΤΗΤΑ

Καθάρια νόησις το σώμα αναδεύει
μες τα μεταξωτά πολύτιμα σεντόνια
ιονισμένος άνεμος απ' έξω τα χαϊδεύει
σε μια αιθέρια μοναξιά χωρίς καμιά υπόνοια

Έξω να βρέχει μίαν όξινη βροχή
έφτιαξα κέλυφος από το κεχριμπάρι
άλλοι το βλέπουν ανόσια φυλακή
εγώ τ' οσμίζομαι σαν άγριο θυμάρι

Εδώ η ατμόσφαιρα είναι ιδανική
χωρίς υπάλληλους και άμοιρους φαντάρους
εδώ η ευφράδεια είναι βασιλική
εδώ χρυσώνουμε τους τελευταίους φάρους

Πατήστε κόσμε το φοινικικό χαλί
αρκεί ν'αφήσετε τα λογικά υποδήματα
στη χώρα τ'ανεκπλήρωτου γιατί
καθώς θα θρέφουμε πολύτιμα ιζήματα

Sunday, January 17, 2010

HOMERIC REALISM

Every morning, every night
mourning building a wave
drinking rotten dreams of the light
what a shame to be born
what a waste

When I address to all the sick
being unable to pick up the pace
all things about them are so weak
what a shame they don't understand
what a waste

All of you as I deceive
laughing inside this no good grave
and as a satyr I often freak
with you that think I'm still alive
what a shame

DEAD

Something exists within the stagnant water
a charm inside the newly burnt forest
an attribute in that specific feather
the wind has broken being audacious modest

Such an inhuman feeling I brood
with every kind of decay
the darkest milk as fever's proof
opposite cheerfulness to nature's play

It must be feeding something I ignore
that may once come bathe into the light
the incubus people I strongly loathe
thus putting my soul in public sight

So pull me dead into my christening
in a distant port of my never
maybe I'll find my self comfortably sitting
inside the city of big ideas forever

ETERNAL FALLING

Forgotten on a freezing sun
Sinking into a godless storm
where a lovesick dying man
survives by hopping in his home

With crutches made by a ghost of youth
and leader the strangest curse
guarding our first fall off the roof
pierced in pain by a quality scarce

I wish I'd die by a soldier death
getting erased from the bitter files
willing to rescue my fame that's left
fooled to be one of the knights