The Song

Do you ever listen to a song that reminds you of someone

– Maybe a song they loved –

To feel close to them?

To get a glimpse of a memory, a moment you were happily together?

Do you ever listen to a song that reminds you of someone

– Maybe a song you enjoyed listening to together –

And break down in tears?

Because you know that the music they loved is the only thing you have left of them?

Do you ever listen to a song that reminds you of someone

– Maybe your song –

And feel your heart being ripped out of your chest?

Because every time you listen to it, you realise you’re one step closer to losing them forever?

Uroboros

The same thing

Repeating and re-repeating until something changes,

But nothing changes;

Stagnant, it all remains the same

Painfully obvious and against us

(01-2022. Inspired by scroll 1 (1996) by Carolee Schneeman)

Ζωή στο περιθώριο

Οι ψυχικά ασθενείς, οι φτωχές, οι πολύχρωμοι, οι διαφορετικές υπάρξεις...

Αυτές που έχουν ζήσει μια ζωή αλλιώτικη, πολλές φορές πιο σκοτεινή, λουσμένη μέσ' την αδικία

Κυκλοφορώντας νύχτες πιο πολύ, εκεί που σταματά ο χρόνος

Εκεί που βλέπεις την εξαθλίωση της ψυχής και εκεί όπου η παρακμή πρεσβεύει

Γιατί δεν έχεις άλλη επιλογή, ή γιατί αυτό σε τραβάει, όπως η φλόγα το ζουζούνι, που πάει και κολλάει

Βλέπεις πολλά πράγματα τη νύχτα, πράγματα που σου μαυρίζουν την ψυχή

Πράγματα που κλέβουν ένα κομμάτι του εαυτού σου, και σε κάνουν πιο σκληρή

Αλλά και που να πας τη μέρα, εκεί που είναι οι ‘φυσιολογικοί’;

Σε μέρη με δήθεν ανθρώπους που δε δέχονται την ύπαρξή σου;

Η μέρα είναι σκληρή και σε ξεσκεπάζει, η νύχτα σου επιτρέπει να είσαι εσύ

Ξέρεις που να πας, κι ας κινδυνεύεις

Τουλάχιστον αν κινδυνεύσεις θα κρυφτείς

Είναι γλυκιά η παρακμή της νύχτας, κι ας σου ανοίγει την πληγή

Τα τέρατα σε κυνηγούν παντού, σκιές σ’ακολουθούν

Όσο πιο χαμηλό το φως, τόσο εξαφανίζονται

Κι η πληγή σου μένει ανοιχτή, όσο είσαι στο περιθώριο δεν κλείνει

Και θες να ξεχνιέσαι έστω για μια στιγμή, αλλά η κοινωνία δε σ’αφήνει

Walk a mile in my shoes

I wrote this poem today, self-isolation and people not taking this pandemic seriously has affected my mental health.

Here is part of it:

“Depression is not showering for a week

Depression is not having the strength to be

Depression is a pile of negative emotion

Depression is a misunderstood notion”

“Depression can be a never-ending nightmare

Depression can be a monster you can’t bare

Depression isn’t a mainstream movie trend

Depression is not recognising any friend”

By Charles Baudelaire

"Aux objets répugnants nous trouvons des appas"

(In repulsive objects we find enticing lures)

- Au Lecteur, Fleurs Du Mal

(To the Reader, The Flowers of Evil)

Περιμένοντας το νυχτερινό τρόλεϊ στο Σύνταγμα

Το Σύνταγμα μετά τα μεσάνυχτα μεταλλάσσεται σε μία εναλλακτική καρικατούρα της πραγματικότητας.

Βλέπεις από μεσήλικες πλανόδιους μουσικούς με ροζ τούφες και σκουλαρίκια, μέχρι τρελλούς που επιτίθενται κατά συρροή σε ταρίφες ή συνδιαλέγονται με το κενό, στυλάτους άστεγους, και μέσα σ'όλα αυτά τουρίστες που δεν έχουν ιδέα τι γίνεται γύρω τους.
Κι έτσι όπως παρατηρείς το αλλόκοτο σκηνικό που ξετυλίγεται γύρω σου, κάνεις φιλίες και χαβαλέ με άλλους παρατηρητές της νύχτας.

υγ. Ποιητική αηδία.

Little Lizard

Less than a couple of hours ago I thought I had saved a little lizard from two stray cats. Its tail was cut off and it had a scratch on the side. I put it in a safe place in the garden, only to find out that ants were eating it an hour later. I was very shaken and sad by the fact that I couldn't save it, but even more so by the fact that it was suffering prior to its death. This is a poem I wrote for it:

"Poor little lizard, what an awful way to dieHe cut your tail and he scratched your side

I tried to save you; I failed, tell me why?
My heart is broken, distraught; I saw you die

I hoped you didn’t suffer; I want to say goodbye
Your last moments were painful; I wish it was a lie

I wish I’d been more helpful, I wish I’d saved your life
I’m now mourning your death, tears running from my eyes

I thought you would survive this, but then I saw the ants
Devouring your small body, approached you really fast

I’ll give you a proper burial, I know you had a soul
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from this unfair downfall"

Rest in peace little lizard...

Neverland

Since it was my birthday the other day, I decided to gift you a snippet of a poem I wrote about a month ago.

For the past few years I get pre-birthday melancholy during the month of my birthday, October (which is funny considering it's also my favourite month and I love Halloween, but hey! I'm a walking contradiction).

And so, here it is -partly:

'Neverland'

"Life’s already sad and boring; you’re not even thirty-one

Now you have to be so careful, and to bring food to the table

Pay those bills, have a career, and no option to give up

Always pretending you know what you’re doing, heart shut

Rude awakening leaves you wishing you were Peter Pan

Always young, forever young, eternal youth in Neverland"

Six Months

Six months of repression
Suppression,  no measure of prevention

Illness, stillness, subversion
No chance of recuperation 

Physical oppression
No escaping deterioration

Inertia, exertion
No hope for restoration

National Poetry Day 2017

He is yogurt and she's basil 
He's deluded and she's green
Their relationship so tragic 
At the same time fresh and freeing

Yogurt tastes better with basil 
Basil likes giving a hint 
Both of them eaten together 
Tongue's delicious tasty spin

(written for a friend a couple of years ago)

Wisdom Tooth Poem

Another day of rice and soup, fuck you, damn you, wisdom tooth

My tooth doesn't hurt as much no more, But I have to be careful not to make it sore

Fuck you, damn you, wisdom tooth, I want mozzarella sticks to tell the truth

Happy Poetry Day

Happy Poetry day they all say

But no poems do they dedicate

To the poor, to the hungry, to all

Who are suffering, who are the dead toll

Autumn, leafs and poetry

I want him pale, so pale. . . like a dead body, like me.
I want him blond. . . maybe ash or fire blonde. . . like me.
I want him blue or green or gray eyed. . .like a creature. . .like me.
I want him obscure or even peculiar. . .weird and grotesque. . .like me.
I want him mysterious and mystical. . .unreadable and enigmatic. . .like me.
I want him fair and just. . .honest and sincere. . .like me.
I want him kinky and twisted. . .like an ill-minded controversy. . .like me.
I want him strong and dynamic. . .like a confident person should be. . .like me.
I want him open-minded and explorative. . .like a researcher. . .like me.
I want him dirty and pure. . .innocent and sinful. . .like me.
I want him artistic and logical. . .rational and real. . .like me.
I want him just and corrupt. . .cynical and impeccable. . .like me.
and the list could go on and on. forever. . .