ΣΑΝ ΤΟ ΨΑΡΙ

http://inancy.wordpress.com/2011/11/13/fish-out-of-water-salton-sea-tilapia-1/

Αισθάνομαι αδύναμη.
Αφού είμαι το ψάρι 
κι είσαι η θάλασσα μου.

Λαμπρά όλα στον αέρα
-ο ήλιος μα και τα όντα-
Φαντάζουν δελεαστικά.

Πλην όμως δεν μπορώ
ν' ανασάνω παρά
με την υγρασία σου.

Πλημμυρίδα, ας έρθεις!
Ασφυκτιώ τόσο εγγύς...
Ένα σου χάδι ο αφρός.

Τι άλλο προσμένω από
κύμα λυτρωτικό...
Άνευ δε το μοιραίο.

Βιάσου! Βιάσου! Βιάσου! 
Ένα ψάρι σβήνει
Μακριά απ'το γαλάζιο...

FIGURE FADING

You're down there lost
Ιn the back seats.
I can not even see you.
Your image is fading fast.
I write down your name every day
To keep rememberences.
As if you never existed.
As hard if I struggle 
I cannot bring you in life.
I deny any responsibility.
I remain steady.
You are moving away.
You just don't want to be here.

DANDELIONS

Failure is also a success on the wrong track;

Sometimes one achieves what others were dreaming of

Then they say he had good luck



A lot of struggle was needed though

They beautify the facts by saying

"It's time now to enjoy

what you are worthy of"



Suddenly

- just by observing some subtle dandelions flying free-

everything disappears

Just like that!



You weep in secret

Who understands these cloudy eyes?

Nobody sees the ultimate internal loneliness

which makes you melt like a candle every night

Consciousness wakes up right here

Some people were destined to be elsewhere

Their lives blossomed in the wrong garden 

Just like it happens with the subtle flying seeds

which people call Dandelions

They are drifted by the cool breeze

Wildflowers bloom in the orchard because of them

 destined to be eradicated 

sooner or later

Innocent beauty grew in the wrong place

Bad luck! 

They were meant to grow elsewhere

HELAS THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD WAS EATEN!

I hope, dear fellow poets, one day 
I'll write gently and serene ...
Because this cry of mine, 
Is not at all, like your poetry ...
It is just transfusion of emotions …
It’s blood and soul directly taken from their source.
When shall I be able to combine
The passion with calm logic?
Or to embroider sensually to reason
The fascinating web of lust?
I lived, I am living with a knife in the back.
With a  lover killer and noose.
In a place where only the corks are  floating ...
In a homeland where they are
Sinking diamonds in the mud
and show off them only to sell them.
I wonder, dear fellow poets, could I sculpt
less indelicate  words?
How to convert  the rage in peace?
Who once had been holding my hand, instead of pushing me down?
Who did involved with me without charging to me the fact of the error?
Who ever stayed with me just because he needed just Me?
I am a sea medusa , which used to be a delicate sea anemone.
The mutation of a victim with withered petals in a perpetrator .
No, unfortunately I can no longer
dangle  anchored to the corals!
Transparent I’m carried away amid the waves.
I'm here to remind you that you are not alone;
I invite you to your small, earthy,
Temporary but secure paradise,
Where and for as long you occasionally will enjoy.
Always in fear of the wolf ...
Ah, finally ... I was not fooled:
The Little Red Riding Hood was devoured by him .
Maybe better you to see your  sudden future end,
So that you reward festively with passion every start.

FLESH REMEMBERS

See how I 'm laughing!
I forgot you, I forgot all about you ...
There is nothing
Anymore acute.
The nightmares,
The night-awakenings,
The sighs,
The illness,
The tears ...
The provocative
Veins at the wrists
Are deafening to me,
As they throb with life ...
I can deal with all these
Easily now.
I've  learned how.
And even when it starts
-This pincer
In my heart-
In the night usually
Struggling me ...
Sometimes when the truth
Rings in tin roofs
Along with the rain,
I smile shamelessly
To your blurry image 
And I know ...
You hear me 
Slowly mumbling:
I can stand it now , go away!
I do not belong to you anymore ...
I do not know why, but
My body, when numb,
Always betrays me:
It's still yours ...

JUST A SMALL DEATH

http://www.flickr.com/photos/enamic5/4835211611/

The point is loneliness ...

Look at her eyes!

Do you see the little death

Flickering in there?

When you was given her soul

Revealing her fragile core

You pulled out your favorite sharp blade

Cutting into pieces furiously and on the spot

Every type of pregnant roundness,

Every newborn possibility 

To leave away from her arms 

Lucid and winged.

What was the meaning of your very approach?

It has been rumpled and thrown into the trash.

What was the point of the commemorative photos?

Pre-planned death's memento.

You got just what and just as much you liked.

You did not want anything more.

She was deceived opening a door to contact.

You didn't come to reflect your soul to her own.

You came merely to grab what it was missing to you.

You didn't  come to break the ice of isolation.

You just quenched your thirst and returned to your shell.

You left her dumbfounded alone with her present's nightmares.

ΕΛΛΗΝΩΝ ΓΛΕΝΤΙΑ!

Η Ανάσταση ενυπάρχει.

Η Ανάταση είναι ανάγκη.

Η Επανάσταση ελλοχεύει,

όσο η φτώχεια μας παιδεύει.

Ο αρχαίος λαός μου κέφι

τραγουδάει με το ντέφι.

Την καρδιά του έχει απόχη

πίσω απ' τις χαρές να τρέχει,

πεταλούδες τις συλλέγει,

το κακό να κοροϊδεύει.

Βάζει λάβαρο το γλέντι,

έχει και τον ήλιο αψέντι,

με τη θάλασσα μεθάει,

τον καημό περιγελάει.

Έλληνες, ακόμα είστε 

αρχηγοί στη γη να ηγείστε

στο χορό και στο τραγούδι

κι ας καεί το πελεκούδι!

Κι όσοι απ' έξω, αν σας δουν,

όσο κι αν παρεξηγούν,

την κεφάλα κι αν κουνούν

μας ζηλεύουν κι ας μυρλιάξουν,

τη ζωή δε θα χορτάσουν!

WILDFLOWERS AMONGST ANCIENT RUINS

Red wildflowers

amongst  the ancient ruins

and I, somewhere there

I get up and knock rattles

I fancy up myself

with blossoming buds

ignoring winters and autumns

I dream of a flame-burning summer

Joy blooms in ancient temples

in the sunlight

The gray marble

reflects a strange youth

through its ravages  ...

with purple splotches

-against time-

the poppies all over there

Doric form reminding

the debt for the beauty of simplicity

Apollon Oh!

Agamemnon Oh!

Clytemnestra Oh!

You swing majestic for centuries 

between the columns,

Operators of the Passion

which drips the spring ...

Watering Harmony

with pain and blood

And most of all

the terrible Erinyes wuthering for ever 

on the peaks of the cypresses ...

ON TRUTH'S EDGE

The breeze and the rain  are  

Trapped by your spring beauty

You didn't let them go away

From your long, loose hair. 

Although you  wanted so to blossom ,

Even if you  wanted your eyes  to rest

On the familiar, calm blue ...

The lush, dark green met you again,

You threw yourself into

Its strong turbulent tornado,

Red flower, you make 

Your soul's petals  to bleed...

VIGIL MEETING

oh my love, you are not with me!


I'm waiting for you awake in the dark.
Not allowing myself to sleep.
Just with the suspicion,
Just with the  morbid obsession that
You just wake up  and  you think of me.
I want to be ready and willing.
To  detect  your morning craving
Hovering in the air.
To touch my body and to feel
Floating your presence.
Your unbearable erection.
To recreate the smell of you
In my nostrils, which are so impatient.
To peek at our last photo together, stolen by me.
To lean forward to collect
With my tongue your silent tears.
To taste you salty.
"Μen are so awkward in tears" you told me
Right at the moment that your face
Became for me the most beloved vision.