Aug 22, 2012

AUG 22, 2012

They say you can't find beauty anymore these days.
It's there, it's there, it's there. In unexpected places!

The neighbours are discussing what to cook for lunch:
"Oh kori, I don't know, was gonna make the porkchops
and some pasta on the side. And you?
I'm making lentils, kori mou, you know, with rice,
the way Antonis likes them."

The bowl of water left out for the street cats.

The thought of being thought of.

The unexpected facebook post that quietly stuns you:

"...we saw no Cranes today but a
few thousand White Storks were thermalling upwards from behind the masts. 
Some came back down again, some sat on top of the aerial masts, one sat on horizontal wires,
they all took flight again. 
They moved towards the sea but circled back again and were
over Ammohostos at around 1.30 pm."

Then they were gone.

Aug 14, 2012

Distracted by glowsticks, still watching stars

I don't care about the jasmine on the balcony,
or the melon on the table
or the meteors falling.

Although I know the reason for the state I'm in
lies deep within their very own existence,
I still don't care.

Feeling united with the world by the realisation of the continuous thread that runs between each and every single living thing on this here planet and beyond, well...
it just makes me lonely.

I try to break these mortal lines confining me to stretchmarks and acne
and come find you
so we can play high up in the stratosphere,
but the laws of physics are boring,
and I wish someone would break them down.

But in this place they all conform:
to lines, to shapes, to colours, to gravity.

I've never met so many people
scared of Love before.

Though I have roots,
sometimes I feel like a levitating wanderer.
My earth is in my head,
my roots are in my head.
This physical space does nothing for me.
Aesthetics gets raped daily.
I blow a bubble and bundle up in it.
For me the world is sunshine, lollipops and you.
The rest is for the rest to figure out.

I know it's wrong but I can't help it.
I can't help not caring about the words
that crawl out from ugly mouths with rotten teeth.
I don't care about the thoughts
that spurt out of ugly brains with broken wires.

I don't care who they think I am or what I stand for.
Walking among these deathbound people I'm transparent.
(You know, I think you fit all words for Love
in Greek!) 

See, I care about the poems and the moments
and the feeling that I get from crafting a world
where you and I are walking holding hands like giddy schoolkids.

I know I'm careless and naive as evening breeze
and living a life of simple thoughts
but this is what my life is like just now,
at least I'm honest.

And kind of free.

At the next falling Perseid
I'll close my eyes and let its green tail
linger and trail across my eyelids.
My wish, an afterglow:
For us to keep on being.

Aug 3, 2012


hoopoe hopping on a summer's day;
here we are, striped black and white
and flashing crowns of facebook flirts
and future days.

you might not know what these words mean
but it's okay. i don't know either.

brain works in mysterious ways
and the universe just knows the way things go:
as long as we are truthful,
the stars are looking down in smiles.


Ever since meeting you
my life is drenched in coffee.
Replacing caffeine for touch
and cups for cuddles.

I run around this town with bloodshot eyes
looking for signal.

Drowning in daydreams
I'm losing touch.
The thought of you has pushed me to the edge
of reason
and i'm hanging out in dirty seaside towns
drinking vodka and cranberry juice so sweet
my tummy's frowning up at me
with age-long wisdom and the grumps.

To imagine what you'd taste like.

as of late, the drunken dawn just slaps me in
the face with brutal reprehension, as I reach out for the instant coffee tin
in desperation.

The drive to work is full of
bodies, lips, tongues and skin
as I elaborately embroider
this illusion of proximity.

Existence floating in intangible realms
of cybercoordinates
I only eat and sleep and work because I have to.

I'd rather spend this waking life
just thinking of your words,
the curves and colours of each letter
lying there shaking on my screen.

I spill my coffee and overlaugh in conversations.

I stay up playing pool.

Inventing gods I worship them;
I knot my body into a prayer rope
and loop it through your outstretched arm.

I live but do not truly love
as I am out of focus.
Not fully devoting myself to each and every moment here,
I am a heathen of my own religion.

People around me are inquiring about my switched-off brain.

I say: he's here, but you can't see him
and you can't feel the pain that spans 6200 miles
and fills my heart with salt,
like the Atlantic Ocean. 

And people stare with apprehension
pointing to the broken glass at my feet.

I say: he makes me wanna chew this broken glass
and that's how much i want to know his smell
and run my hands down his arms. 

They walk away in silence shaking heads.
I stand here with my cut-up bleeding tongue
wriggling on the floor.

I pick it up and put it in my pocket.

I know you'll laugh when I forward you the photo
later while we text away.