THE TEACHER

PAINTING: WILLIAM BOUGUEREAU - PAIN OF LOVE

"...to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, ..." (2 Cor. 12:7)
Often this thorn offers me intolerable physical pain. I do not remember the age when the pain began to teach me.

OPENESS ETHEREE

What a wonderful world would be on earth

if human souls were open to 

meet the soul of everyone near 

without suspicion or fear

just diving into eyes' depths

to explore the waters

of their innocence

that paradise on Earth 

where the kids 

who we 

were 

copyright10/10/2012 by Chryssa Velissariou

THIS

Painting by the Bangladeshian S M Sultan

Something is happening.

Something very big is happening
in your life
as though in mine.
Something like an eradication.
It feels like a hard clenching
at the top of my stomach.
Often I think that I'm hungry,
But it is just This again.
It feels like twitching caused to huge sadness.
As if it's missing a key ingredient
I interpret incorrectly
as food's need.
What I need is your hand
searching me, touching me.
So I wouldn't fear evil,that grows on and on around.
I miss that hand on me..
But I don't find it anymore even in my dream.
I kept it really for so little!
What unlikely, how many details I recall of it.
Its touch, its warmth, its smell, the exact shape of the fingers,
the color, the length of the nails, even the palm's lines...
Its nerve, its lust, the seeking of its movement towards me.
I should sooner win on my emotions,
speak earlier so that I could keep locked in verses the details,
which are forgotten.
What a great exhibiting way is the word!
It detains remembrances,
It helps me be saved from the dragon of the oblivion.
But how sad!
Even if I try to conserve my dead feeling in the formalin of my writings ,
I won't be worthy of your hand anymore.
You do not want to let me hold it anymore...
COPYRIGHT2012 BY CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

IN THE UNIVERSITY

Well...
Tedium.
Exhausted.

Slur over it.
What intrigues me?
I'm eager for that glance.
For the professor's split skirt.
For that vamp arrogant girl's smile.
For the massage on the colleague's neck.
For the smiling face tics of the scientist
Often I would like to start crying.
I'm amazed to connect with youth.
The bitter taste of the past.
The amnesia over death.
The vision for change.
I'm exhausted
That glance is
tedium's
end.
COPYRIGHT2012 BY CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

WANDERING

PAINTING BY TIM WISTROM

I'm here,
I came here
for you.

But you, you 're missing,

stayed there
for you.

I wonder did we ever really met?



copyright2012 by Chryssa Velissariou

YOU BACK

The phenomenon
of Supernova
made me reconsider...
A sun shines the most
just before its Death...
I am riding wild. 
Nothing could  ease me. 
I have got everything 
except One thing. 
This is driving me mad. 
I would never let myself 
have You back ...

A WAR

comment below image in http://www.flickr.com/photos/w5er3nee/:

Mars and Venus
this painting shows Mars -the god of war with Venus - god of love after they made love,
 as depicted Mars is asleep and Venus awake some say that it symbolizes the power
of love over war and others say that it means women are more powerful than men.
So, Greek Mythology wasn't just about paganism but also used the gods in symbolism,
 sending messages through painting to generations, to reach the development
of the human mind, since we still depend in philosophy of their studies.

He did not show to you any

kind of tenderness

or compassion

He was seeking just for

 battle

cries and lust's sorrow

flowing moments

But what love has to do with

the tranquility?

Or even death?

Remember when you will go

that you have been loved

above the limits

Laugh when your light extinguish

even if you lost

a universe

Why to be unsatisfied

if you have really

touched a heaven?

Deficient and enough are

equal in front of

definite end

DROUGHT

I cannot logically explain

My lust for you anymore...

It is so annoying! Unbearable...

I feel my body and soul

Depend on something

Like persistence...

Approaching with affection...

And after the win over

Absolutely outraged

It stabs its dagger in my back

All my principles broken up 

I fell for you...

You hear !

I hate and curse people

Only because they managed to wrest

A piece of my hold on your soul

I covet insatiably to be the only one...

I am incensed you should exist for others 

Meanwhile the drought dries my leaves

And they fall ...

I often find masochistic delight 

In analyzing and editing feelings

I cannot justify it anymore, 

Do you hear me? 

It is such an oxymoron!

And I see no reason ...

My carnal needs were always just an excuse

I' ve been deprived of you for so long 

My pleasure through you has already ended

Why do I insist and what do I hope for?

How the souls are attracted ? And why?

On what absurd excuses and forces

Are they kept then away from each other 

As if they were flammable material ?

Why am I no longer with you?

Why do you close your heart to me?

With time against us

Why did we destroy the little

We won ?

In my preposterous fantasy,

Through our unruly

Deep mutual attraction

I need your body

Only and exclusively

To drink at your soul.

I know this is hopeless.

The needle is often stuck in what

I ‘ ve been waiting for centuries,

Even when the song has already ended.

COPYRIGHT2012 BY CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

EDITED BY CHOUCHOU MALDEMER

DEDICATED TO MY CHOUCHOU

GUILT

Web of Lies

by Christine E. Striemer ~CES~
http://www.ebsqart.com/Art-Galleries/

Halloween/76/Web-of-Lies/717398/

Your flaming words
like little diamonds,
polyhedral,
engraved gems
at depots in
her darkened mind.

Consolation
of a thirsty
innocent soul
for romantic
passion's heartbeat.
She's hurt by you!

She believed that
they were purchased
in bloodthirsty
hellish deep mines
down in Africa
through skinny hands
of black children,
who were hungry
for altruism's truth.

You had bought them,
man, so cheaply,
in odd bazaars
of illegal,
artificial,
rare gems workshops,
up there in the
liar steppic cold.

Tiny diamonds,
so resistant,
her dropping tears,
they have washed you
and let you nude
in front of your 
own being's needs and,
in the end squashed,
you have fled in
violent escape.
Your silent scream
unresponsive
to her carnage.

You, through your lies,
ashamed yourself.
And the love which
you felt, was like
flame retardant
grenade, cut
the victim's guts
as bad as yours,
the addicted
storyteller's.

So, well yes, she
will recover...
You have been lost,
just sat upon
a continuous
dream's illusion.

RIBBON

PAINTING: Reclining Nude with Red Ribbon by Robert Liberace