Fertility

 The winds stood still in solemn row,

and my eternal dance ceased its flow.

They read a page from my own light,

and all became clear to the mind's sight.

The years rolled on, nervous and unaccountable,

and like a blind man between walls,

in company with innocent grave-robbers,

I breathed in gases murderous and foul.

They reversed the poles of my own life,

and I roared with dreadful, piercing cries—

why did they leave me with open eyes

to the vain wounds of my existence's strife?

My two lovers flew far away,

they left me—Happiness, Misery.

And now I feel a new euphoria,

that cares for me, holds me from mountains high.

Inspiration

 You seem a magical sight,

but however I may change you,

malice, disdain,

black as the dawn,

you’ve bloodied my eyes—

before you come, I’ll cry out.

Ill-fated mission,

I’ve borne you through the ages;

you steal the sunrise from me,

and I struggle, striving

for the ugly, distant

contortion of the bastard-born.

A sequel with devils

and northern winters,

you draw down darkness

with terrible typhoons;

now it nears and arrives—

the noose of oblivion.

We are bent and resemble

a misshapen swallow.

All around

 A landscape bowed on every side,

Greyish drops fall soft and wide

From the bloodied sky above,

While spiky plants below, with reverence, drink thereof.

Golden rays, like fugitives, pierce the wounds

Of the ashen ground, in silent rounds.

Cypress giants stand cut short, peering down

At small, dead, fragile shells they crown—

Once dwellings of slow, leisurely creatures, now undone.

The olive tree stands Pallas, even dimmed in light,

Gazing steadfast at the shifting sight—

A landscape of the modern human's art,

With which it neighbors, though set apart.

Celebrations

 Oh, behold, my dear lament,

as if someone calls to you—

I believe I hear at last

a voice of joyful hue.

The withering has been bound,

the season has arrived

when nature sheds its light,

and sorrows have derived.

But was a solution given to all

in the blink of an eye?

With labor, the stomach lays

such nourishment awry.

Let us make a retreat,

if only for a while,

and build within my eyes

a new perspective's style.

But when I gaze ahead with care,

I see a pitiable breed,

endlessly shallow, stripped of worth,

and driven by sickly need.

Once more they've grasped at life,

lifeless and crippled, low—

yet celebrations echo,

a hollow, endless show.

Early spoken

 Serpent, eagle, and mankind,

Bound together at dawn's break,

Nectar of truth, fruit of the tireless mind,

Scourge and pleasure the pen shall make.

Iron now seethes, the omen's sign,

Minds selected in storms' design,

A cleansing wind of the dead's domain

Reaps fruits corrupted, foul, and vain.

The rays of the great noon take flight and gleam,

They cast their glow on the massive, carved tombstone,

Upon it, victory shields of noble esteem

Of the great murderer, the ram on his throne.

Laughing cynically once more,

Divine epitaphs' measures roar,

A final bridge unites two lands,

Today and tomorrow of natural man's demands.

Let them be insurmountably right,

Raw, bathed in humanity's blood and light,

Ages will testify in hidden, covert ways,

By chance, they were spoken too early in the haze,

And thus misunderstood in their endless days.

Will

 Mother serpent, slumbering deep, my will,

Upon my breast she rests and watches still

The thoughts and actions of my life's display,

Judging which ones might offend her sway.

With exquisite Apollonian sounds, I lull her sleep,

Lest she by chance catch Dionysus' scent so deep,

For after, I shall need assistance fine and slight,

Since the base one, when enraged with all her might,

However painfully and raw I pay the price,

With venom, she will sacrifice my heart in vice.

Ode to a goddess

 Bent over existence's abyss, profound,

A blind, irreverent little man, unbound,

I grope for you, bitter goddess of the deathless sound.

You, unnaturally cold and finely sleek,

Absolute truth, utterly nude and meek,

Small sister of pleasure, elegant Melancholy's peak.

Hidden eternal patroness of nature's art,

Faithful enemy of the faint of heart,

Yet my redemption and heaven's finest part.

As a companion, I worshipped you in snow,

Sweet nectar of death, a lethal, gentle flow,

Libations, sacrifices, all my years bestow.

You, forever chthonic, queen of a palace unheard,

Eternally beautiful, beyond any word,

Olympian priestess of nightmare's descent, absurd.

One moment

 In a dream, spasms found me, deep and dread,

They woke in me a thirst for calm instead.

I rose with tears of terror, stark and wild,

Various voices in a meter, anxious, riled.

I searched for them but felt a blindness grow,

An employee in a circus of crippled woe,

Grieving for clown-lovers, lost in their art,

A philosopher in houses set apart.

I built them as another's stern command,

And measured a defeat across the land.

A bleeding silence struck me, sharp and clear,

As I stood stunned by irony divine and sheer.

Romance

 You cunning and bereft of grace,

In epochs ere the Titans' race,

You schemed to bring a god to earth,

Adorned with paeans, gave Love birth.

Your power craved to be sustained,

And you hunted ambrosia, unrestrained,

But you did not foresee the turn so stark,

That fed and fortified your own dark arc.

Now you lament with feminine tears,

Forgetting the womb that quelled your fears,

You yourself added chains anew,

A tragic shape of childhood's view.

I pass on to the void

 I leave to the void a legacy, a rod,

As I depart with a bowed head, unshod—

To this alone, I owe a gift, a grace,

(A muddled mind in a sealed bottle's space).

Three luckless colors, a waxen caress,

A heart of embankments, few tears' oil to bless,

The deeds of ink in abundant darkness.

Routine day

 When I saw light, I leapt up high,

From the small burrow where I used to lie.

Adorned with dewdrops, I began to race,

Rotten flowers in a hidden place.

Bloodied hands gathered near,

A wretched Golgotha I brought to bear.

As I polished distant stars so bright,

I clad them in black tears of night.

And I moved toward the rosy dawn,

There a strange cross gazed upon,

With an underground breath, drawn and worn,

Upon a head that turned forlorn.

I fed ash to the stomach's core,

And spat profane bile, bitter and sore.

An unlucky Muse amid the fray,

Felled by a wild, unruly spray.

A thrice-suspicious summoner,

Lifted me to the ridge's spur.

And there I laid fate's flowers, due,

On marble in love's tomb, so true.

Call to Ares

 One final gleam, a last faint spark,

My Ares owes me, stark and dark.

So many times I've watched, dismayed,

The defenses of my tired life betrayed,

Cowardly shattered, frail and frayed.

One final gleam, a last faint light,

My Ares owes me, fierce and bright.

Though he has left abundant silence deep,

To chew upon the words I weep,

From my blood-soaked cry, my anguish steep.

One final gleam, a last respite,

My Ares owes me, in the night.

My enemies around me, loathed and vile,

A stinking pack, corrupt with guile,

Of half a race, untaught, base-born the while.

One final gleam, in battle's fevered chase,

May all the lambs be crucified in space,

That you may have just slaughters to embrace.

Polyplexia

 A heap of voices crowds and drinks the air,

petty tyrants claiming the cosmos' share,

demanding rights to turn all life into a sphere

of private feelings they exchanged so dear.

In vain I try to find some unity,

as all my hopes limp on tragically.

I want to shield the wooded lands with glass,

enclose my rightful homelands, hold them fast.

All modern "gentlemen" speak of abundance,

yet I suckle at the breast of paranoia's substance,

seeing around me ugly, rushed distress—

a vulgar dance of new, absolute ignorance.

Waterless shore

 My feet are severed, sharp and bare,

Buried in the sandy lair,

Myriads within the bone,

Thin, faint pinches, coldly known

From unknown, gnawing things that creep,

Inner candles burning deep.

A black hum echoes all around,

Everywhere, the light is bound

In a sickly, fading gleam

On our unknowing faces' dream.

Hermetically deaf and blind,

The landscape wraps us, unkind—

A constant hallucination

Grows upon your mind's creation,

A satanic hill, a dark plantation.

Seeking to escape the chill

Of frozen, weary, bleak despair,

We burned too soon, against our will,

On a waterless shore, stripped bare.

Comedy

 Each wretched dawn, I see you rise,

You stand erect 'midst all that dies,

In cells of luckless human forms,

You thrive among the trees in storms.

You seize the moment by its hair,

Becoming queen of all things fair,

You build the steps of conscious thought,

With strides of elephants, vast-wrought.

I find you in me from the start,

Eternal, divine Comic Art,

An effluence of our decline,

Also called Truth, by right divine.

Empty people

 Empty, with a head so light,

Open, terribly hollow and bare,

Distant in the music's air,

They pose like bottles void and white.

Pale white pieces of the foam,

Prey to every wind that flies,

Smoke from a broken train that dies,

Dead plants in the field they roam.

False the wrapping of the flesh,

Baked in life's weariness and pain,

Garment of a soul in vain,

A patch on every boat's torn mesh.

Incapable of every rite,

Clerks in a tear-drenched office space,

They pile up at the building's base,

To draw a virtue's pension, slight.

Loss of a relative

 Tonight at nine, we lay to rest,

My youngest brother, Fear, now blessed.

He did not live long, but he was raised right,

So brave, he took one breath before the night...

Together we passed many a test,

In my youth's morning, east to west.

Together we would go to school,

Together learned each worldly rule.

Only when I played, he would withdraw,

And keep a quiet distance from it all.

Discreet he was—by my side, I’d forget,

Yet strong in presence, never upset.

Many times I wronged his gentle grace,

For in the end, he guarded every space.

But as time passed, and I grew mature,

He met with age, less strong, less sure.

To some, he grew a bother, a weary sigh,

And less and less I spoke, passed slowly by.

Now I wither as I stand in view

Of his cold marble, gleaming, true—

I think that I, too, bear the blame,

For his early parting, his fading flame.

For I grew tired of living bound,

Carrying his cross on haunted ground.

Earplugs

 All things speak in absolute silence deep,

You hear voices anxious, thick and steep.

Within the waxy hush, all is smooth and plain,

All is analyzed in strict lines' domain.

So many unknown voices hide and wait,

That ripen secretly behind walls' state.

As they were kneaded, they emerge like saws,

Singing all their deathly sounds and laws.

The wood can hear as if the glass now speaks,

The light cries out for all things to draw near.

And fabrics drink the voice that sound bespeaks,

Which they then attach to colors, sharp and clear.

But in the black silence, as the truest part,

Your self draws near, it limps out of oblivion's art.

It formally presents itself as body's lord,

And for straight dialogue, it urges you toward.

Love revolution in asphyxia

 You dance, pale, fragile little man,

With colors and love, in passion's span,

Equal and different, deep below,

As for you, all disorders I forego.

All together, even more in sight,

Subjects in a dance solo's light,

A black artist with hair so bright,

Fated in our democratic dome to alight.

And if needed, romantically stern,

We'll eternalize with freedom's turn,

Like a ruthless, thick frost's spread,

To cover the eye of the earth widespread,

Each one a professional sound,

A mistake where silence should be found.

With lovely hair and teeth so white,

Lots of money and human rights...

Crystalline purity

 Pure thought stirs the body, deep and slow,

Amidst the silken sheets where precious dreams may grow.

Outside, ionized winds caress with gentle breath,

In an ethereal solitude, untouched by death.

Outside, an acid rain begins to fall,

I built a shell of amber, strong and small.

Some see a prison, profane and confined,

I scent it like wild thyme, untamed and kind.

Here, the atmosphere is ideal, divine,

No clerks, no luckless soldiers in the line.

Here, eloquence wears a royal crown,

Here, we gild the final beacons, shining down.

Step, oh world, upon the palm-woven floor,

Just leave your rational shoes outside the door.

In the land of the unfulfilled "why," we reside,

As we nourish precious sediments deep inside.

I wanted something

 Something I wished to write—

a drop of wisdom's light,

a shared and common sorrow,

signed with tears I'll borrow.

Something I thought to touch,

a feeling delicate, as such,

but before the thought could grow,

the scent of struggle I would know.

Something I longed to say—

a colossal, boundless way,

but in cold irony's command,

I’ll be enslaved, purely unmanned.

Something slipped into my mind,

like a multicolored, frantic kind,

a god-like sin, divinely designed,

but even that was left behind.

Somehow I wanted to live,

as a child, small and sensitive,

I dared to dream a dream so vast,

but took it back as though it passed—

and held it like a die once cast.

Conclusion

 I fled one twilight, frail and incomplete,

across the black-red field of my defeat,

hoping in vain upon some fickle god—

unethical the beam on which I trod.

I tiptoe without shelter, loosely spun,

toward the monstrous cry my streets have won:

a wingless society, stripped of grace,

fugitive at the edge of my hair’s space—

a smile for the dead, entirely in place.

I must become more bloody, drenched in strife,

mad butcher carving “good” and “wrong” from life,

fatal, yet fashioned in transcendent form,

too-flexible dancer at the cliff’s sheer storm;

a worshipper of mediocrity’s lie,

uninvited, in seismic waves I fly—

proudly vulgar, I amplify

within the silken conduit of the human cry,

dying with every taming of the beast’s sharp sigh.

Ego and the poor human

 I seek not much, in humble strides I go,

With frantic beats, in undertones, I flow.

I statically demand to stretch my frame,

Impose myself on truth, and stake my claim.

Ask me not what I desire to see,

I seek the absolute: to always be

Above all things, in every time and space,

The Alpha and Omega's sovereign grace.

To profit from the life of all that breathes,

For me, the suns of every system wreathe.

I raise the dawn up from its sleep,

I speak to night, before the morning's deep.

Let me command the thoughts within your mind,

And in all others, too, let me be signed.

Let me divert your place with cymbal's chime,

In waves of sound, disrupting space and time.

Let me be sovereign in feeling and in way,

Accepting only those who grateful pray.

Let me be the I, the one and only core,

And like me, let there be no other, more.

I’ll feed upon the essence of your soul,

Stand where you stood, and take unending toll—

An abyss vast, where endless depths unroll.

Desperation

 There are some people desperate to speak,

To speak to someone, since to themselves they’re weak.

Some thoughts of theirs are shallow, some suspect,

Suspect because their small world won’t neglect.

Theatrical exhales of discomfort, systematic, slip past their lips,

Their lips stand arbitrary, parched by anxiety’s eclipse,

Beneath their empty eyes, in rigid, dry mouths.

Drowned in the routine of creativity’s decline,

Creativity they couldn’t touch, not even in a childhood sign.

Confused in all, victims of zealotry and prophecies of cheap design,

Prophecies sold off in bulk, in books and magazines they line.

Desperation that can’t be redeemed by meager creeds,

Religions—cheap, expired cultural products, preserved to serve their needs,

Fear has compromised the totality of their state,

Of this existence that continues to dominate.

Hearing them, you wonder how much alteration, delusion, fits

Within the collective unconscious now, in scattered bits,

This unconscious, which instead of clearing with science’s advance,

Has clouded to extremes, lost in a trance.

Complaints and regrets have carved their face,

Their face, which forever will marvel at the unknown, the unembraced,

Yet responsible for their choice to face it with faith’s deceit,

Instead of knowledge’s path, steady and complete.

Knowledge they ultimately learn to hate and fear,

Struggling with instincts of reproduction, unclear,

To understand what now—when any awareness would shatter them sheer?

Insecurity galloping, weakening mind and frame,

A body they’ve neglected for years, and subconsciously maim.

Moments of despair make up their daily routine,

A routine of decay and TV’s consumeristic screen.

A celebration

 A celebration and a hope, like all, consumerist and vain,

A storm of half-learned knowledge, in existence's stifling chain.

I had the time and I beheld you, like a curse in fleeting flight,

I feel the cosmos as my homeland, yet its essence void and slight.

I seek a Human, desperately, I often yield to despair's night,

I succumb and tremble, as I strike the shallow waters in my plight.

The soul I cannot digest, if you seek it low and base,

In the head, I lord it over, claiming it has found its resting place.

In all things, something lingers—do not call it God, though,

It is memories from anguish, in time's most ancient flow.

Do you see in all a battle? You have a sacred woe,

Only dust and ash are gentle, soothing in the world below.

Motion is eternal, for you, it does not ask or plead,

Lest you take, throughout the years, your self with solemn greed.

Live like swallows, crude and arid, more coarsely than the air,

The pawns are slowly rusting, little humans in despair.

Carrot and the stick

 Plunge into the motion without cease,

To marvel at each quivering release.

Renounce the cunning, artificial light,

Ruin's attraction in its endless flight.

In barren valleys of the plague's domain,

I nail ironic crosses, full of scorn.

Human genes are gullies, deep with pain,

Employees serving ministers forlorn.

My sorrows smell of lightning's sudden blaze,

My anxieties are fiery daughters born,

A bitter, sensed life in a hopeless maze,

I quenched my thirst in sleep's companions worn.

Plant alone the triple-winged birds,

On the calm peak of your heart's own core.

Herds with cheap emotions, empty friends,

Bury the sun in health they ignore.

We tremble in ten dimensions' sway,

And seek a fleeting pleasure, brief and fond,

Unmoved in the cosmos, clenched in play,

An unbearable, fleshly threat beyond.

Efforts and myths of kindred breed,

Push for common careers, a mundane race.

Sit quietly, hear the parents plead,

Within the system, maids of obedience embrace.

Do not engage in human games,

Like money, culture's fleeting aims.

Hear the waves, watch some silver screens,

Before global autism touches and claims.

A thousand times crippled, blind, and lost,

Not an employee in some company's hand,

Not an anxious parent, fear-embossed,

Become a fugitive, flee this land.

Outburst

 Of an eternal dawn, the woods now speak,

Upon the tribe's back, foaming breezes peak.

The dogs run free, the mountains lost from sight,

The friends grew clouded, reptiles kiss in light.

It's time for wings to live, to take their flight,

For shadows to strike hard, to wield their might.

The narrows crave the air, the nests demand their fear,

Unfaithful heroes, phalluses, draw near.

They drown the lovely infants, without grace,

The porters resurrected damage's trace,

By striking openly the spools they hold.

The daughter of disgrace came down, more bold

Than the ugly fissure, early to appear.

We lit the drowsiness of the white, sheer,

Diagonally, a spark of disengagement's sphere.

The salivas of the unutterable fear

Drained into foolish heads, devoid of sense,

Ancient ravens of a hairless shoot, immense,

The lakes leaped over channels, bold and dense.

It's time to roast the leaders, to impeach,

To build free, sprawling hedges, each to each.

It's time to scrape the torches, to prepare,

To climb three-story corals, high in air.

Block up the holy ducts, without remorse,

Put on unbearable lanterns, set their course.

Come, let us muzzle ivies, tightly bind,

To leave eternally as dregs and hide.

Epoques of substance

 I recall times of innocence, so bright,

Active and naive,in pure delight,

In native games,so unconfined,

In raw emotion,unrefined.

I recall natures noble and grand,

And people fair across the land,

On some duty's altar,they

Became repulsive in array.

In their small boxes, they but see

A world of disarray and spree,

And no sacrifice can make you free,

Or leave your conscience clear to be.

The neuroses speak their silent plea,

Only within the soul's deep sea,

And the masses,moments break,

From the pressure,they awake.

When serenity departs, takes flight,

The cold draws near,extinguishing light,

A hollow sound,a barren tone,

The utterly wretched,weight unknown.

Customs, laws, and civilization,

Education,strict dictation,

A facade,a farce, a comedic play,

A hidden death's paroxism,they say.

Lost is the meaning of this life,

Career,a hidden servitude, rife,

Your taxes paid to those on high,

A Sisyphus of decline,you lie.

How can the weeping leaf touch your soul,

When in concrete,you seek control,

When cars become your mission's goal,

How can light that doesn't burn make whole.

No hope for you to be absolved, set free,

Crimes and blood flow endlessly,

Our childhood nature weeps in plea,

From which you want to break the tie,to flee.

Life's irony

 In the beginning, into naiveté and hope's design,

In the tragic dance with the world's pulse divine,

An improbable escape from non-existence's sway,

Living the weep from the womb of dismay.

You are a futile resistance to time's relentless flow,

You feed the monsters and lie in deep woe,

With gravity,decay, and sickness' embrace,

You chafe and struggle from your inner space.

The vain and eternal evasion of pain,

In the sound of illusion,hope's happy strain,

Psychopathic,lifelong, accountable to spite,

A barefoot,blind child of misfortune's blight.

If then you dare to dream a purpose to find,

To taste something beyond survival's honey kind,

You forget,only death at the end you await,

Uselessly,for the fame that remains, you debate.

And yet our species, flawed and incomplete,

Without a sense of purpose,knows no retreat,

It seeks detachment from all that's not real,

And reproduction—the ultimate narcotic zeal.

Fire extinguisher

 Barefoot, the mirrors urge along

The misguided path of nations'throng,

A quiet fire delineates the bound

Of endless lassitude in sorrow's sound.

Ascend into the self's swift flight,

Annul the highest life's pure light,

Weaving the language of the steep

In death's most flawless choice to keep.

When small, I watched the sky's vast dome,

Kneading the void,without a home,

And now that I milk the river's flow,

I praise my empty children,though.

In a sea of jobless, if I drown,

A wretched career I cast down,

As human life I yearn to see,

I offer vision's horse to thee.

Save essence with decapitation,

All that smells of politic's relation,

Seize the night's cubic domination,

Cancel the failed generation.

We wrestle with life's harlots base,

In columns of unseen moral grace,

Blind composers of the rain,

Fire-stricken fugitives of chain.

Biography

 Then rose and shone the rain

Of falsehood's stain,

Then wounded fell and ailed the flame

Of blood's domain.

With phalanxes trained faithfully

In hell's design,

Perfumed with bones unutterably

Of sight's decline.

There rose the absolute retreat

In arrogance,

Denied,the unsubstantial feat

Life's plea to dance.

A willing silence was required,

And then you cried,

The moment's debt was then acquired,

And then you sighed.

Irresponsibly, you weigh the lamb,

Unhopedly,

Impelled,you seize the steam and ram

Most ably.

I stand against the windless mountain's might,

Fatally,

I gaze upon dream's thread,a trite

Sight,vulgarly.

I quarrel with the azure sky's domain

In memory,

And break the void unseen,the pain

In its knee.

I charge each atheist virtue, every grace,

Antenna-high,

And spit upon a holy conduit's face

Companionably.

I believe the All is quite enough to be

With you,

And err as some grotesque,misshapen tree

In birth anew.

Grant me a little fortitude, I plead,

Tonight,

To bind the soul that wanders without creed,

And smite.

Unnatural seems the small and fragile head

So light,

Upon the mortal zenith's edge,now spread

Afresh,in night.

I set ablaze the wrong and right alike

With pen,

And from the prodigal son did strike

In birth again.

Lives

 Lives of people, varied ways,

Stacked in concrete,in a haze.

Roofs and terraces,a crowded scene,

Nerves on faces,taut and lean.

Frightened, hollow compliments,

Antennas,dishes, cheap pretense.

The youth grows cheap,a devalued cost,

Asleep or bathing,all is lost.

Black cables, wires, a tangled thread,

Obstructions where the green has fled.

Asymmetrical,a blight,

Severed from the sun's pure light.

Antennas pierce the clouded sky,

The tools of terror,mounted high.

Windows,now the spoils claimed,

Of progress,brutally named.

A city like a mountain, white,

A plague that smothers day and night.

Burnt-out,scorched, a rubber streak,

The future,fragile, tired, and weak.

My home

 In my home, at times, the scents that rise

Through nature's breath still gleam,

But barring them,the holes comprise

Of cement,asphalt, in a seething steam.

In my home, I love the sky's embrace,

The white and blue in song,

The iron,and the cars' swift race,

Have silenced it,now babbling along.

My home, constructed on the hill,

Thirsts for its sacred trees,

Against the green,the concrete chill

Drew down its steely canopies.

Withered in my home, the soul's own light,

Deprived of our sun's holy ray,

For with the terraces in sight,

An endless shadow made me friend,I say.

I long to see the sea's grand show,

Proud waves in bloom,unbound,

But instead of this,I'll lose my sight, and know

The smog,the exhaust, shaves all to the ground.

And in the boxes, souls lament,

Like open coffins,shared the same dark fate,

A mass of faces,life long spent,

They chose to leave existence desolate.

Civil memory loss

 The incomprehensible absence

Of the nocturnal sounds,

The child's pure ignorance

Of vain tragedy's bounds.

The weighty, grave presence

Of hysterical walls,

The pulse's defiance

Of cause that appalls.

The brutal cold-water plunge

Of the spirit's typhoon,

The lamp's sudden lunge

At misery's noon.

The frenzied non-being

Of verses forced,crude,

The bleeding of seeing

For useless sanctitude.

The loveless rebellion

Of honest,stark brews,

The phalanx's felon

For a counterfeit muse.

The blatant loud clamor

Of TV-made streaks,

The people's deep slumber

Through poverty's peaks.

And the uneven barbarity

In a statesman's fine speech,

In the depth of the garden,

Timeless vagrants reach 

Eternal growth

 Eternal, the economic spree,

A growth that thrives on misery.

Against a backdrop stained with blood,

And festive days,a swelling flood.

Rich hypocrisy takes its stand,

For the arrival,close at hand.

Colossal robes,in style and grace,

At chic soirées,they find their place.

Small coffins, carried with despair,

In limousines,beyond repair.

Human limbs on carpets red,

Where humble wants are thinly spread.

They serve up poverty with flair,

In gourmet kitchens,unaware.

The scent of black decay,so deep,

On perfect hair,its secrets keep.

A stark capital's celebration,

Named for days of desolation.

Social gatherings,bright and vast,

Where irony is served at last.

A planet drunk on consumption's lie,

With money drying,parched and dry.

Dresses,cars, a gleaming show,

While hunger gnaws,a constant woe.

A culture burning, growth's demand,

Sets fire to trees across the land.

The quails now swim in endless fear,

The sea is empty,bare, and clear.

While diamonds hang with icy gleam,

On ears that coldly disregard the dream.

The states that plunder,steal, and seize,

The ancient signs,on every breeze.

Artificial lights

 Tyranny of the image, stark,

In a cerebellum,numb and dark.

The money's typhoon,fierce and wild,

A blind distillate,beguiled.

Television and relations thin,

An empty video,playing within.

The rich in hollow,vacant phrases,

A cheap orgy for the ages.

Fake plants and stiff, starched collars wear,

Fedora rain,a dull despair.

Pageants of lines,a soulless race,

Eyelashes twitch,and shame takes place.

Sponsored ads and promotions blaze,

Dramas of gossip,in a haze.

You'll leave your intellect,your mind,

For products and for goods designed.

The universe is on the stand,

With discounts,surely, close at hand.

"Just how to live?"they say, "Attend!

And shop with vigor,without end."

Vibrant bright colors and free gifts,

Salesmen with hypnotic drifts.

A hollow,artificial sphere,

Irrelevant correspondents here.

The comments flow, a ceaseless stream,

The screening dazzles,an extreme.

To graze on scattered,tiny crumbs,

In your poor yard,the spirit numbs.

Child christening

In everlasting life, they hide

Abundant guilt, a swelling tide.

Each sacred, hallowed, pious plea

Now suffers, for it cannot be.

Doubt and thought, a restless breath,

Oppose the digestion—a mental death—

Of dogmas narrow, tight, and confined,

Which echo in a spastic mind.

Your fine church, with pious air,

Defies the irony laid bare.

The flock's ideas, crude and base,

Now march in a debased parade's disgrace.

Inside your heads, the matrices,

Uneducated slaves, Semites;

The words you find in sacred texts,

The money's share, its complex effects.

And yet your crimes, the wrongs you've sown,

Are pardoned by the policeman's tone.

Perhaps in some archaic future night,

An angel's death will bring the light.

The history of the faith you praise,

The invention of sin, a blinding haze;

The icons in the vaulted nave,

Are phantoms that the masses crave.

The power's deviations, deep,

The narratives the centuries keep;

All are hostages to the lie,

In the blood of unbelievers, left to die.

A fabricated face, a form,

They christened Christ, to norm the norm.

A comedy of ethics, spun,

So useless, and so overdone.

Meaningless failure

 Amidst the starry, teeming swarm,

A faltering experiment,

It swells without intent—

A keystone of an ancient fort's old form.

Blood-drenched, devout, the hillsides stand

In power's games and cruel designs,

Assassin of all true resigns,

Just money now,and saints with gritted sand.

The land is raining tools and gear,

As though a chimpanzee guffaws,

It shattered all the learning's laws—

See how it violates nature,fierce and sheer.

It crafts out demons, gods, and ways

With overweening arrogance,

Shameless,unchecked exuberance—

An ode to war that parcels out the days.

At the crossroads, Science and Friendship wept,

Blindly,it passed them by,

It wanted,competitively,

For civilization's roads to be swept.

But in the cosmos, who will care

For human joy or peace of mind?

False gods have told humankind:

“Just one more faint,terrestrial failure there.”

Storm

Phobia and Paranoia grow

In ignorance's field,

And hatred, anger's bitter throe,

Like anxious lament, revealed.

In houses turned to narrow cages,

Bloom weariness and glare,

Your mind now races, warily engages,

The TV screeches there.

You feed on images, a dire feast,

On barren, fruitless zones,

You plant your children in the least

Of lands—where falsehood owns.

You’ll go on holiday, depart

To live two lives, they say,

You’ll watch the ads before the start,

Before you go away—

But first survive, and then erase

The debts you can’t adjourn,

And don’t forget to leave no trace—

Turn off the oven’s burn.

A life laid flat, a toaster’s slice

On barren, arid ground,

The day is dark, and not as nice

As fancy may have crowned.

Nature now foams in deep despair,

The world spins like a wheel,

The scent of money fills the air,

The trees are stripped, they feel.

Humanity the hunted prey,

And failure, stark and real,

And cooperation’s gentle way

Would seem a joke’s appeal.

In the final calculation’s light,

You craved the rival’s fight,

You sowed the seeds of capitalism’s blight,

Now reap addiction’s night.

Ασήμαντη Αποτυχία

Μες τον συρφετό των άστρων 

Ένα πείραμα χωλαίνει

Δίχως νόημα παχαίνει 

Κατακλείδα αρχαίων κάστρων 

Αιματοβαμμένοι θρήσκοι λόφοι 

Στα παιγνία εξουσίας 

Δολοφόνοι της ουσίας

Χρήμα μόνο κι Άγιοι στόμφοι

Βρέχει ο τόπος εργαλεία 

Σαν ο χιμπατζής καγχάζει 

Χάλασε όλα τα σχολεία 

Δες τη φύση που βιάζει 

Φτιάχνει δαίμονες θεούς και τρόπους 

Με περίσσια αλαζονεία 

Αναιδέστατη μανία 

Ωδή στον πόλεμο που μοιράζει τόπους 

Επιστήμη και φιλία έκλαιγε το σταυροδρόμι 

Το προσπέρασε τυφλά 

Ήθελε ανταγωνιστικά 

Να κυλούνε του πολιτισμού οι δρόμοι 

Μα ποιος νοιάζεται στο σύμπαν 

Για ανθρώπινη ευτυχία 

Ψεύτικοι θεοί στο είπαν

Μια ασήμαντη της γης αποτυχία 

ΚΑΤΑΙΓΙΔΑ

 Φόβος και παράνοια 

Φυτρώνουν μες την άγνοια 

Μίσος και θυμός 

Σαν άγχους οδυρμός 

Σε σπίτια κλουβιά 

Ανθίζουν κούραση κι αντηλιά

Το κεφάλι σου σφύζει 

Η τηλεόραση σφυρίζει 

Τροφή σου εικόνες 

Με άγονες ζώνες 

Φυτεύεις παιδιά 

Σε χώρα ψευτιά 

Θα πας διακοπές 

Σε δύο ζωές 

Θα δεις διαφημίσεις 

Προτού αναχωρήσεις 

Αφού επιζήσεις 

Τα χρέη να σβήσεις 

Και μην λησμονήσεις

Το φούρνο να σβήσεις 

Ζωή σαν τοστιέρα 

Σε έρημη ξέρα

Σκοτάδι η μέρα 

Στολίζει τη λέρα 

Η φύση αφρίζει 

Η γη σαν γυρίζει 

Το χρήμα μυρίζει 

Τα δέντρα ξυρίζει 

Ανθρώπινη λεία 

Η αποτυχία 

Κι η συνεργασία 

Θανούσα αστεία 

Στον απολογισμό 

Θέλατε ανταγωνισμό 

Σπείρατε καπιταλισμό 

Θερίστε εθισμό 

Νηπιοβαπτισμός

Στην αιώνια ζωή 

Κρύβετ' άφθονη ενοχή 

Κάθε όσιο κι ιερό 

Πάσχει αφού δεν είν' απτό 

Αμφισβήτηση και σκέψη 

Αντιτίθεται στην πέψη 

Των δογμάτων τα στενά 

Αντηχούν σπασμωδικά 

Η καλή σας εκκλησία 

Αψηφά την ειρωνία 

Του ποιμνίου οι ιδέες 

Παρελαύνουν πιο χυδαίες 

Στα κεφάλια σας οι μήτρες 

Σκλάβοι αμόρφωτοι Σημίτες 

Των βιβλίων σας οι λέξεις 

Των χρημάτων οι μεθεξεις

Τα εγκλήματα σας όμως 

Συγχωρεί ο αστυνόμος 

Ίσως στο αρχαίο μέλλον 

Έρθει θάνατος αγγέλων 

Ιστορία της θρησκείας 

Η εφεύρεση αμαρτίας 

Κι οι εικόνες των ναών 

Παραισθήσεις των μαζών 

Εξουσίας παρεκκλίσεις 

Των αιώνων αφηγήσεις 

Όλα έρμαια στο ψέμα 

Μες των άπιστων το αίμα 

Ένα πρόσωπο φτιαχτό 

Ονομάσανε Χριστό 

Κωμωδία ηθικής 

Τόσο άχρηστης κι απλής 

Τεχνητά Φώτα

Τυραννία της εικόνας 

Σ' ένα σβέρκο παχυλό 

Των χρημάτων ο τυφώνας 

Εν' απόσταγμα τυφλό 

Τηλεθέαση και σχέσεις 

Ένα βίντεο κενό 

Πλούσιοι στις άδειες λέξεις 

Ένα όργιο φτηνό 

Ψεύτικα φυτά γιακαδες 

Η φεδροτητα βροχή 

Διαγωνισμοί αραδες 

Βλεφαρίδες και ντροπή 

Σπόνσορες διαφημίσεις 

Δράματα κουτσομπολιά 

Τη διάνοια θ' αφήσεις 

Προϊόντα κι αγαθά 

Προσφερόμενο το σύμπαν 

Με εκπτώσεις φυσικά 

Πως να ζήσεις άκου είπαν 

Να ψωνίζεις σθεναρά 

Χρώματα έντονα και δώρα 

Ονειρώξεις πωλητές 

Ψεύτικη και άδεια χώρα 

Άσχετοι ανταποκριτές 

Ασταμάτητα τα σχόλια 

Συγκλονίζει η προβολή 

Ψίχουλα να βοσκεις σκόρπια 

Στη φτωχή σου την αυλή 

ΑΕΝΑΗ ΑΝΑΠΤΥΞΗ

 Αέναη οικονομική 

Ανάπτυξη 

Με φόντο το αίμα 

Πολλές γιορτές 

Πλούσια υποκρισία 

Στην άφιξη 

Πελώρια ρούχα στις 

Σικ τελετές 

Παιδικά φέρετρα στις 

Λιμουζίνες 

Ανθρώπινα μέλη στα 

Κόκκινα χαλιά 

Σερβίρουν ανέχεια στις 

Γκουρμέ κουζίνες 

Οσμές μαύρης σήψης 

Στα τέλεια μαλλιά 

Γιορτή κεφαλαίου στυγνή 

Επώνυμες μέρες 

Κοινωνικές εκδηλώσεις 

Η φτώχεια σερβίρει 

Πλανήτης στην κατανάλωση 

Λεφτά μες τις ξερες 

Φουστάνια αυτοκίνητα 

Η πείνα να φθείρει 

Κουλτούρα ανάπτυξης στα 

Δέντρα φωτιά 

Τα κότερα πλέουνε 

Η θάλασσα άδεια 

Διαμάντια να κρέμονται 

Στα κρύα αυτιά 

Τα κράτη που κλέβουνε 

Αρχαία σημάδια 

Αστική λήθη

 Η ακατανόητη απουσία 

Των νυχτερινών ήχων 

Η άγνοια του παιδιού 

Για τη μάταιη τραγικότητα 

Η βαρυσήμαντη παρουσία 

Των υστερικων τοίχων 

Η άρνηση του σφυγμού 

Για την άψυχη αιτιότητα 

Η θηριώδης ψυχρολουσια 

Των πνευματικών τυφων 

Η σύμπτυξη του φανού 

Για την ύψιστη αθλιότητα 

Η μανιώδης ανυπαρξία 

Των βιαστικων στίχων 

Αφαίμαξη του φραγμού 

Για την άχρηστη πιστότητα 

Η ανεραστη ανταρσία 

Των ειλικρινών ζυθων 

Η φάλαγγα του πιστού 

Για μια ψεύτικη αιωνιότητα 

Η έκδηλη φασαρία 

Των τηλεοπτικών φικων 

Η κοίμηση του λαού 

Για τη φτωχή πραγματικότητα 

Κι η άνιση βαρβαρότητα 

Σε στόμα πολιτικού 

Στο βάθος των κήπων 

Διαχρονική αλητεία 

Little Man

 He did not commit to any power 

He was never really all that strong 

He was losing moments by the hour 

Since he never ever saw the dawn 

No one asked him for a favour 

No one gave him thoughts of love 

Always feeling bitter flavour 

Even from the gods above 

What a little tiny nightmare 

This man's life must have once been 

Says his mother: "Always fight her"

Being sorry for her sin 

Coming home to catch existence 

Fornicating with father pain 

Watching a poor hope's persistence 

Being useless summer's rain 

Tell us of your fake promises of soul 

Take us to your plastic heavens

Feed us lies of an afterlife hole

Keep us coming back like ravens 

Full of joy and full of laughter 

Every second might have been 

But the search for ever after 

Gets erased all you have seen 

Little man needs to be passed by

Like a shadow in a dream

Let us grow the middle eye 

Let us live shortly but within