A poem about nothingAyto einai ena poiima gia olakai gia tipotaGia kathe erota poy afise ta simadia toystis sarkes tis psyxisOla ta oneira poy ekapsan oi flogestis ntropisoste na mhn ta deis kai trekseis makriaToys fovoys poy heri heri kryvosastansta skotadiaeos otoy papsoyn oi arrostes krayges tissiophsDen vgazoyn noima oi lekseis poy kyloynDen peirazeiDen eixan pote kapoion skopoSto eipaEinai ena poiima gia olakai gia tipota--------------------------------------------------Translation:This is a poem about everythingand nothingAbout every love that's left it's scarson the flesh of the soulThe dreams that were burned by the flamesof Shameso you don't see them and run awayThe fears, with which holding hands you hidin the darkuntil the sick screams of silence ceaseThe words tha flow make no senceIt's okayThey never had a purposeI told youIt's a poem about everythingand nothing
thoughtsHopless Romanticchained by your dreamsyou've become a slaveto your emotionsandlike the deadyou cannot llive again
Forbidden PleasuresThe way your flesh yieldsunder the pressure of the thorns-what a sight to behold-Oh, it makes me tremble in pleasure.It's 'cause of this twisted me,this sadist that I amI want to make you experience our affairat a whole new levelI'll drown you in wineand tear you apart.I'll make it as painfull as possible,I swear.So that you will screamwith every part of your existenceThe horrorof our forbidden act.Those eyes.Don't look at me with those eyesor they will steal my soul away,make me fall for you even more.Every pain that licks your fleshis enough to send chills of exitementdown my spine, into my very core.Mindblowing.You look up to me and smile.You feel me, you understand,I knew you would,only you could.'cause it was all for you, my masochist.It was because I love you so..
TransformationMany times I have wishedI was a swallowtail butterfly Beautiful Perfect Desired AcceptedAway from unwanted "friends"and useless loversAnd most of allaway from the memory of you.I hoped for my own blue skyeven if it only lasted a few moments-'cause in the end, life is short isn't it?- Howeverwhat I have turned intois an insect without wings
What is your sin?"Can you see it? What is your sin?"That part of you.I always hated it.Blaming others,saying it's unfairfor you to be punished this way ...Fool...You mean to tell me you don't realise it?You can't feel it burning in your veins?Can you not hear it's voice? "Think harder and tell me. What is your sin?"It was my fault -you say-I tricked you into this mess.I wish that was the case.Then I would burn in your place.. A Satan?So you intend to continue with this stupidity..Let me tell you nowI am nothing like the creatures you createdfor your peace of mindand I refuse to be your scapegoat.Why do you still so stubornlyrefuse to face your responsibility?"An error cannot be corrected if not realised. So What
Which is it?Poetry's an open dooror so you sayThe Truth is always simplethat's what few of them claimThen what's the problem with us?Standing infront of the DoorCould it be that we are too blindto see what is behind,Or that we simply do not wish to do so?So?Which is it?
CircusWithin a tent of red and blueIn the heart of the carnivalA funny circus hosts it shows,They've sent invites to all.It is a one-man lonely showgiven by a wind-up clown.The crowd there cannot see him playBut it doesn't bring him down.He juggles with his knives all day-That silly little clown-For children without eyesthat can no longer laugh or frown.He wants to please and make them laugh.But no one's left alive.Still he just plays and hopes and waitsfor some one to arrive.Oh, foolish clown, why can't you see?Your efforts are in vain.Or could it be you're so aloneyou cannot bear the pain..But I know your secret -I'm you,you're me- my funny pierrot.You killed them all and nowyou're left here rotting all alone.Within a tent of red and blueThe sight in so grotesque.And insane circus host it's showsavoiding it, is for the best..
Fairy TalesDidn't we start from Wonderland?See? I jumped down the Rabbit HoleI had promised you, hadn't I?But I still have a question..When did we switch Fairy Tales?Without thinking, I find myselfFollowing the same pathas Hansel and Gretel.God!The witche's Gingerbread housesure looks tempting!Yet, I don't waste my time herewith the others.I don't want to. I'm aiming too highto do so. My goal is you.I say that, but,though I still follow you,You're so ahead of meI can't even hear your watch's tickingAnd all this time, I cannot helpbut feel alone, so alone.Much like the frog in the well.All that's left for me is to lookat that tiny piece of blue skyAnd dream of the outsideAnd hope to someday catch you...even if I don't know what you look likeanymore..Yet no matter how much I wishfor this foolish dream of you.No matter how hard I try to climb outinto the warm light.I always end up falling.And when the pain from fallingbecomes unbearable,that is when I begin to wond
Poetry 2010So many things on my mind.So little timeMy heart wishes to write.My hand cannot obey my desire.And what to write aboutin the first place?About sadness and melancholyengraved in one's heartas he struggles his way through life?A deranged mindtwisting fairy tales into nightmareshaving lost all contact with reality?Should I talk about the people?Lonely, insane, hatefull, disgustingcrawling their way aroung the city.Or maybe a war, a product of greedLeaving in it's wake a sorrowful nomansland.The maimed corpses, the mad ghosts, thecries of the innocent.It ought to be a poemabout pitiful peoplewith pitiful problemsleading to great disaster.I wish to write.But I wouldn't know were to begin.The inner darknessor outer darknessI need to write.But what difference would it make?And yet, I wonder.If we give up on talkingabout this mess we're in.Who will be left mourn forthis world?