FESTAL LIE

I'm cold!
And the recollection
Of your face 
That time before ...
Does not comfort me!


If you might be here!
You exist, though
You are not now
The same ...
Inappropriately mine!


I'm cold!
I do not own
On you
Even that minimum!
I prepared a festal meal
At the table of nothingness!


Merry Christmas, then!
Cheers ... You, unknown!
The wine of tears is freezing ...
I am a hopeless drunken ...
Otherwise I wouldn't look desperate,
This glorious night too,
For your bleeding soul ...

AS PENELOPE

I Blame Thee Not ,
Grim companion fate!
But Thou hast waited for me ...
Waited with patience
To meet me weak!
And then Thou hast nailed me!
I do not accuse Thee;
For so long wove I
Then unravel I faithfully
As beautiful Penelope,
Daughter of the Amyclae's king
Ikarius and of Perivoia...
He was not brave yet 
My Odysseus and did
Never claimed me!
Ηunkered down, he stayed at Calypso's,
That seductive nymph-witch !
And he left me to flounder
Among flirtatious suitors,
Presumptuous uncouth snails,
Who made ​​me hate
The allurments of my body...
I stay alone enclosed up there,
In the comfortable chamber of my soul
To bewail, that I have
Been lost! That I did not wanted
To attempt a flight out of here!
Thou was preying, therefore,
For years , Thou avengeress fate!
My thirsty poor soul
To make bleed, insidiously from within...
I have said it again!
I shall not blame Thee !

CARBONISATION!

Thou threw thy eyes on me ...
I glowed like a goddess!
These unexpected beams! Which instead of absorbing My light, they are emitting it!
Although other-lighted I became through thee bright.
Colourful innocent butterflies;
Well of buzzing May beetles;
They come to be burnt by me.
Instead of this fire ship loss,
Both glorious and carefree,
They crush on my coarse rock,
Or drown in the awful swamp
Of my carnivorous mediocrity...
Stop, then, looking at me!
Stop brightening me ever
With thy dazzling sorrows!
Only by thee shall I be redeemed.
Thy glance wish I to see At my last hopeless breath!
I 'd be carbonized in a 
Final torchbearer flame.
Same our composition Graphite and Diamond ...
I  a Graphite , thou the Diamond!

THE PRICE

Outside it is raining.
I do not sleep.
I work endlessly.
I'm exhausted.
That way I don't think.
That way  I don't remember.
I know now what I mustn't... 
I must not hope.
It must not feel.
Because I hurt you
More then ...
I 'm no longer your life ...
I am your death!
Beloved!
So death should
Hide in the grave,
Rot in the soil.
I ceased to serve  
The beautiful ...
I'm savoring the vinegar
Of my excesses
I pay the price.
Let it be...

http://www.zimbio.com/pictures/AtsirSp-Yxl/Victorian+Cemetery+Arnos+Vale+Reopens+After/I2aBUhESkej

I'm talking about my poetry ...

http://www.theinspirationblog.net/showcases/28-beautiful-examples-of-photo-manipulations-with-women/

Our child 's travelling to India ...
She 'll be published in the neighborhoods of the world ...
Shamelessly exposing herself to the eyes
Of sensual bystanders ...
She 's screaming caressing
Unknown hungry souls ...
Within the boundaries of adolescence
I can no longer control her.
I smell on her the traces of
Sacrilegious ejaculations!
My wandering pain!
I wanted to offer her just to you ...
I feel that the destination
Does not depend now on the traveler.
Among our outreaching hands is
Gaping devastating void!
Even though I want to touch you,
Starvorous universe is inserted between.
I have nothing to keep from you anymore
Exclusively for me ... I'm losing you!
Give me, give me back a little light!

ACQUIRED (I)

"Prince Arthur and the Fairy Queen" byJohann Heinrich Füssli; scene from The Faerie Queene

Is she his own? Or lies
Are whispering the linden
Aroma so soothing,
Like that, which's emitting
her flesh by near.
Oh! He craves for her acquired ...
But she 's flying in her dreams.
She's often away ...
A butterfly so fragile
She flies on wild roses
Is given to dangerous,
Dizzying turbulences ...
Vainly is he opening and closing his arms?
She slips as the gentle breeze 
which 's playing with her unrestrained hair ...
He didn't manage to enclose her
Inside their little house made of stone
To bind his fairy
With his eros embraces
Her stolen headscarf
To bury deep
To do not let her find it and remember,
Awaken inside her the nostalgia
For her winged ilk ...
Her fugue pushes away his nightmares
Maintains helas the panic!
Axe threatening,
The suspicion of rejection ...

ACQUIRED (II)

http://iberianature.com/wildworld/category/china/

Look at me!
Is that me? No!
I've changed, petrified ...
Look at me!
Dare to look at me!
And yet ... I, I am ...
So don 't leave me
So lonely ...
So do not cry!
You have me!
In another form
But you got me ...
My precious!
Would I let you
Ever helpless?
Would I let you
Ever in the desert?
Once I was born for you!
I wandered so much
On the streets of my life
To find you ...
I'm so tired!
Ah, could we ever snuggle up side by side?

ΚΕΚΤΗΜΕΝΗ (ΙΙ)

Norman Rockwell: "Second Holiday" 1939 Oil on canvas, 33 3/4 x 47 1/4

Κοίταξέ με!
Είμαι εγώ; Όχι!
Άλλαξα, πέτρωσα...
Κοίταξέ με!
Τόλμα να με κοιτάς!
Κι όμως...εγώ είμαι...
Γι' αυτό μη μ' αφήνεις
Τόσο μόνη...
Γι' αυτό μην κλαις!
Έχεις εμένα!
Σ' άλλη μορφή
Μα εμένα έχεις...
Ακριβέ μου!
Θα σ' άφηνα εγώ
Ποτέ ανήμπορο;
Θα σ' άφηνα εγώ
Ποτέ στην ερημιά;
Αφού για εσένα γεννήθηκα!
Περιπλανήθηκα τόσο
Στους δρόμους της ζωής
Για να σε βρω...
Είμαι κουρασμένη!
Αχ, να κουρνιάζαμε αντάμα!