4 pieces of August

within
an
easy
distance
you
are
not
a
virgin

amber hair
when you feel me in the empty circle of bed
shipwrecked of openness.

demanding more rupture
as dismembered absence of carnal touch
an intermezzo of
broken poetry of your eyes

appear as murmurs of want


an embraced look
of sublime want

Tormenting me with transmigration of sexual visuals
curves theft of your ikon a burning of flesh visitation
peeling your lips and your breasts like rosary beads of sin

the sweet slavery of lust only liberated by a circular kiss
the ecstatic rhythmic monotonous desire soothed by raptures
caressing and more caressing stigmas ....tear-stains of a night.

================================================================



the sun is refusing to follow my broken shadows
my steps antagonistic to the murmurs of my heart
engulf my blood
like the sea the gulf's crevices
why the absorbed narcotic salty wind
bends space and gravity
disillusionment offerings
maybe an end of light is near.
i watch the natural theatre blue tones flatten space human mauve mental photographic spaces
to walk on them fly on them
down in the end of the cove
images were of sailors people
of emotion earth-toned colours and oceanic
supplanted with brighter colours of their eye
fainted with the passing of time
would cut you if you touched them
poetic works with no structure
not continuum (stopped) moment in time
women half naked primitive masks
objects collage of desire
fallen in love in my mind and movements
of sadness monochromatic
returning to my own psyche
different shades of mauve
the paint of my soul revitalised
the blue fabric sea of meadows listening to the sermons of the wind
seaward gaze red flame sky dust of roses
it has been long
since the circular burning beds seen new lust
arriving on the verge of youth
so do not burn my eyes
with your black silk lips
let me sleep let me sleep with
lightness and delicate sense movements
hieroglyphic syllables and silent waves
i am as leaf in breeze in stillness and in tempest
an old soul formless like sea abyss stirred - agonised
my symbolism is vanishing so
sent your eyes with a bond of flesh
for mending in the nest of turbulant hearts
say no words my tangerine opening
and become a dream of moon touch
======================================
a stretch of beach a measured light
a misty moonlight glow
your scented lips the passion grows
landscape of the image clothes you with lust
the summer of my years, a memory a dance
red wine from your lands

eat the honeycomb of bees
soft orange with flip-side winds
pale red luminous lips
eyes of love virgins see the sand
break loose from a great sleep of land

swirls and passes
steals my mind a scent of sea and jasmine
wind- wept the air rattles and quarrels with earth
its even darkness torn
symmetric movements the colours are born

in the platinum ridge the monk the inner sanctum seeks
the sanctified and the obscene
i drink all the shadows the aquatic river brings

till all are connected and divided in me
---------------------------------------------


in the street of dreams oracular Aeolian winds
blow unrelenting the marble poplars
deep shaded carved wooden ikonostases
lush paths of the interior soul
with venetian modes in this gathering of the multitude
we aspire the same medicines and dogmas
as pilgrims of faith in transmigration
windmills and dovecotes of the mind
Miracle workers,healers, arriving in the isle of Delos
cleansing sacrificing in the wooden streets of palm



__________________

In the greek amniotic universe

your glow has diminished in the eternal now
leaving behind a thin trail of darkness
that is more of a feel a smell in the night
and i barefoot i with my oracle kiss
with some thought of solitude without faith
that leads me outward to you like love
mystical and shy without any art of persuasion
a saint on my last grain of desire
into the chambers of museums
and dressing rooms of oracle like
tourist Apollo with your ivory Egyptian
sailor eyes now hanging on the wall
eats the jelly of the bull
searching for stoned prophesies
from the measured light
stealing the ancient afternoons
mute as fish angel of sleep
among gold tapestries of flesh
and you breath into my mind holy smoke
behind your eyes fixed like ivory holy ghost


on the top of this ancient hill the most mysterious
objects are still hidden by modern manners unnoticed
myths dramas of euripides and sophocles and the tourists
and the new modern immigrants walking as playing the chorus parts
but aphonous archaic reliefs with fast movements of the new land
our bodies before the music starts behaving
as small amniotic universes
and our modernistic sad spaces are not for real
so our hands have the same form without motion
our walking dance mimic our dramas and our looks suffer
more and more in this expressionistic theatre of life

where albatross rise and dive
in the deep solitude of dream world
where scent of spring unmasks clouds
in the Aegean blue
where butterflies elliptical
fly into a serpentine stream of gold
with limitless steps to every climb
painting ethereal corral grounds
where sea Sirens sing Delphi oaths
seeking mirage of gods and goats
beyond the beauty to conceal
skin storm- driven passion play
of stone gaze and light images of lust and clay

we veiled velocity as chariots of embrace
in your blue cuneiform veins
i see my stillness
and the streaking spaces of bleeding
a surface of memory of lyric voices
whirling rivers of intimate eloquence
in your blue veins where all my fictions begun
dimmed light and perpetual motions
then vanished as serpents and lines
of sandstones of flesh
we slept in the ancient aegean rooms
in the hypotenuse hills
with honeysuckle and thyme
till our veins pulled the moons
and the rhythms of our tangerine minds

the ghost and the birds never came

the ghost and the birds never came
such a yearning the gathering of the multitudes
of desires and passions the holy ghost concealing
a spirit with sole veiling the abstract essences of soul

seeker of outside harmonies striving for liberation
a new artistry of lexicon
priest of temporal clairvoyant temples of self

on the way to the mountain top i have seen
this enduring masonic luminous construction of light
made the journey visible with distant sea
sublimated kiss perfumed by the wind

returning to earth that sleeps in olive groves
and further down to the coast
wind-blown sand
rays of time dew-pearled radiancy
favor even its owned shadow

the horizon listened
and dressed with lights of emerald and amber clouds
helped the land slowly to arise from the sea

a bend of mind
a reflected glow
but the ghost and the birds never came

abandoned light forever

abandoned forever
with this unmarked serenity
here the sea translucent tiny river
the dry river becomes sea
with lean stones without marks of aqua passage
only a graphic stream of sorrowful light
lean light that brings panoramic essence
to this mercurial space
and then joins down below the sea of meadows
transformed to virgin mauve light
and lets the wind to murmur with myriad air sermons
a new craving a new litany
a song of sage
then it suffers a new direction
across and then back to the myrtle hill
a darkened path of royal red with sun escaping
with his roaming eye
and i a worshiper upon its gaze
to see unwoven thirsty wine nights

so let the shadows come fast
and the forbidden flesh as new breath
with oily skins and pure almond eyes
__________________

my gothic soul

gothic angels live in the wind
their hearts empty in cathedral domes
with company of oblique curved devils
in a glass menagerie
with rosemary flowers on their hair
eyes of moon -glow of cursed opals
and bloodstones

untouched and pure emerald golden
passionless bodies ethereal of fallen angels
with mirages of rainbows
i write my next poem on their skin
rubbing their bones gently

their carnal fields so full of light

but in darkness they have no elegance
only monotonous absence
of endless naked breath of desire
that sweep across of my gothic soul

the rain arrowing their ascetic mountain
wind, wind, their enemy of floral still life
of butterscotch and thyme
the other blue pale and white wind
strips the tear of fields that are rolling

angels and devils shadows of pure beings
and i an illuminated soul to the road of ecstacy

my birth with sea light

Arrived then the harmony of light and it was april"s whisper
and i came out in the world
as the sea waited for the embrace of time
to live in her womb and in her loom of dreams
as the sand danced and gyroscoped
kissing the skin of mine i slept with seascape breast
of low mauve light her breath
liquid aquatic clairvoyance
of her bleeding moon to give me light, milk of solitude.
and bare virgin emotions run inside of mind as waves of soul
were born of salty air and seagull -song quarreled
that split and rimmed my heart with poetic polyglot sadness
born by the aegean sea of love and her phosphoric eyes.
__________________

the art of seeing the end

your sight is lowering
your crystalized heart is opening
left behind the paper land of need
as i find my Karma my
heart
(leaf) will be shivering
the breath of time
transmitted by your
night's pale eye(the sea)
blown to life by the wind
scenes, moving between waves
when the night's fragments
leaping into stolen murals(images of youth).....
oh these movements of my mind
among lilac lost shape of light
and needles of almond new moons of iris
__________________

South curves for broken poetry

her incised lines wanted boys immersed in varnish before her mirror
In her longing to nest curves are hiding
unworshipped left breast (her right is showing)
brown color sales girl indigenous( i do the coloring)
to catch the light paper moon whispers
she desires me in a faded box of gold
blond-bodied girl with her shirt-tails out ( i changed the chrome)
always burning my old skin at lenox square

magic woman

i am a river sailing turning you into nymph with
passionate tectonic balconies
radiance of
anguished lover
by gulls in the sand
unveil the path as the seer
body of light curves your gentle lines,
white hands sin the lust of black fields
the youth of sculpture and the ecstasy
reveals all of winepresses and grapes of love
like the memory of
dreams of flesh in the harvests of shadows
I blame you you blame me
with the black instincts all given inside the white linen
__________________

a thief of rose

stealing once


with tenderest care
gliding through your body dry land your harbor yet
not found
of beauty of spring
that flits now a small shadow
erotic grasp of hand
remembers of rose fragrance
always burns me with passion as
romantic found touch
so much i want to live for and remember
not tears and moans
non- menacing turquoise smiles

sank in my bedrooms of dusk
it is all moonstruck veins
circular essences entering
bleeding the sea of your eyes
of azure light

i ride your dark body accepting your gravity

shifting red and blue touch

to take to steal your world
__________________

once a life of lovers

beneath the surface of symphonic night
where strings and passions of heart reside
this impetuous surge of romance composed
and quarrel with light and shadow old
my idle eyes faceless movements do not see
quester icons in motionless aura
discover not a certain lover
and hollow sinful man of consummate desires made
without beauty and wealth of slave passion play
being a mere object of desire mate
years of hidden solitude of love fictional
recurrence of lust mythical offer

my life my life my breath my breath of soul
as only early dawn with mauve clouds vanishing
with certain paper smiles one- half so beautiful
crashed through my vision over ebony
transparent your eye erotic
space offered as fountain of youth
cut out of clouds in the dusk without faith
forgetting the movements of
paths that corrupt
my vision images of the vanishing,
surrounded now by
rustic light the rising suns
winds and tides your figure
authentic sensory marble butterfly
a carnal alchemy of hand into your depths

i left my life(flying notes)

i left my life to get away from the greater emptiness
this unassigned world with no kind centers
commercial winds and commercial lights`
now in the clouds flying like albatross positioned
in the sky sandbars empty bone_white
stained with memory and the speed of light
there is only a small window-that lets me worship the earth
bound for the beginning of nothingness
again with faintest lisp with no real architecture or ancestry of Art(love)
my future cordiality saltiness have only the saltiness of blood

lips of strangers of the new strange land
painted and darkened with the wolves-light falling
drawing with me in the pool of the world
with my aqua spirit lost i give up the ghost
and like a new virgin tied to my desire
i seek a new anarchy a new opium
a new monotony a new tyranny

i left my life to get away from this greater emptiness
and now i am positioned for a new flight waiting for the new gods
and the new wind to commence the Doric journey

postcard(School Of Modern poetic movement)

thousand miles away from your forbidden breast
(without breathing) only in memory
i cross the oceans
to avoid your slavery(of thought)

opaque touch mixed with shadows
i enter your moonlight.
bleeding slowly away
for the machinations of flesh


and try to give eyes and warmth
to my loving stranger with a scent of lemons
in her carnal labyrinth translucent
litany for lilac lust

my melpomene(muse of tragedy)

Unsung lamentation, love you are.
this measurement of my lonely erotic life.
my rage against passion
you are my poems my broken pieces of art
you are the Darkness that is beginning.
that light that descents to void hearts
two rivers we are in one
like blood sprouting in our atrium of soul
that becomes lust in the senses
and gleam in your eye- tears
in the azure murals and
rose petals set off against the aegean wind

ONE

the blue fabric sea of meadows listening to the sermons of the wind
seaward gaze red flame sky dust of roses
it has been long
since the circular burning beds seen new lust
arriving on the verge of youth
do not burn my eyes
with your black silk lips
let me sleep let me sleep with
lightness and delicate sense movements
hieroglyphic syllables and silent waves
i am as leaf in breeze in stillness and in tempest
an old soul formless like sea abyss stirred - agonised
my symbolism is vanishing so
sent your eyes with a bond of flesh
for mending in the nest of turbulant hearts
say no words my tangerine opening
and become a dream of moon touch


__________________
School of Modern Poetic Movement
----------------------------------------------------------- we are surrealists to open the vistas of poetry through observation of the dream state and the free play of thought.
structures and conceits are of artistic innovation and experimentation, declaring a radical disassociation of standard poetic forms
thalasa7( Founder)

the erotic manuscript of nothingness

setting free the ghosts phantoms of
allurement.
the elegance of solace
the lyricism of nothingness that is how i always start
this tension of symmetrical infinity
I have a monogamous fear of sentiment
this void archaic euphonious yearning
to feel the pure light the unsure metaphor
the vast emptiness the vast nothingness of the eternal now ,as opulent melancholy of the self, the sea
nothingness follows me like the muses followed orestes,like fate followed oedipus
blind now torn the metaphors of mind
drinking the scent of the aegean sand
olive tree colour in the end of waves bleeds shades of blue
not seen but felt as lament liquid adagios
where the lilac toneless desires whiteness
nothingness eyes as multicolour sea air ... gods sea wind
for nothingness I write for nothingness I cry
setting free the ghosts phantoms of
allurement a kiss is condensed menacing,
of black marble soma flesh
the dream woman of anonymity
timeless
polyphonic my flesh air torn of skin and sight and words of butterflies
lures shadows
fade and pass as pointless afflictions burning ashes in line with the veins of spirit erotic
a thesis of love rainbows in view of the stanger
of the great unknown of the heart"s vibrance
the clock stops but she does and does not touch
her pulse has reached a great impasse
eyes of cotton-fields hands of mirage that comes over the sea
and these is how it comes and this is how it goes
broken false stars crossing the rivers ever set visible
kissing her moons and touching her hearts

Kalimnos island(07)

the sun is refusing to follow my broken shadows
my steps antagonistic to the murmurs of my heart
engulfs my blood
like the sea the gulf's crevices
why the absorbed narcotic salty wind
bends space and gravity
disillusionment offerings
maybe an end of light is near.
i watch the natural theatre blue tones flatten space human
mental photographic spaces
to walk on them fly on them
down in the end of the cove
images were of sailors people
of emotion earth-toned colours and oceanic
supplanted with brighter colours of their eye
fainted with the passing of time
would cut you if you touched them
poetic works with no structure
not continuum (stopped) moment in time
women half naked primitive masks
,objects collage of desire
fallen in love in my mind and movements
of sadness monochromatic
returning to my own psyche
different shades of blue
the paint of my soul revitalised

Purity

there is such a purity in loneliness
for my fleeting blind dreams
give auras of touch and sight
in the realm of world of hope and desperation alike
gyrated swirling in the wind of fate
over the insistence of my soul
over the power of madness in the barren spaces of love
revising me like burning orange light
in the semicircle of my dark mind
there is such a purity in loneliness

the lost aegean manuscript

standing in front of beauty even the part of artistic blindness
suffers a new reality of visualisation the part of metric consciousness
to manipulate to examine. the optic comes cerebral
from the previous journeys of the brain.visuals of the soul can only
be explained with poetry since the muse has a dose
of magic given by the genetic creator that may be from the theon or the
the panoramic. our eyes remain ever hedonistic so they want to see beauty

imagine the sirens
imperfect quantum mechanic essences
of ethereal reflections
in the white light and
the tiny movements of life
apparent as stillness
cannot be captured in language.
only accidental glances to the sea
a gust of wind
rushes the swell of waves
brushes the sunlight
and my burn face
all primordial spaces arise like
the morning,like woman
takes my lips
and the land, between them
out into the glare
your face of sand like wet flag
like a sail has disappeared.
colours inherited from the days of milk and honey
and the ruby_dark oily nights now scattered by the wind of dreams
in your skin of your old touch
you filled your eyes with multitude
and empty breaths of the sea

words fallen from the mouth of thorn
staggering to the rhythm of gravity
under the weight of a dream
liquid snakes, the rays of the moon
dead nightshift beyond death
the essence of nothingness
the blue doves and the white clocks
emerging disappearing in the immense
solitude
the green-shadow virgin
anticipating the warm blood
the light madness that creates magic sexual images
glass Oriental cities with no people
bourgeois cathedrals with no streets

death of love

her eyes a landscape in cloud and mist
On her mountain tops I am words touch a dim light of desire
of ink is my blood ancient poem painted
from the long silences to the peak of her heart
spreading blood and kisses for the lonely dreamers
inside of time as short-lived embrace
a breeze that blows the deterioration and the darkness
to reverse the melancholy the clockwork of lust
across the field of loneliness in her senses
I know that she is leaving me and chooses for herself
the death of love

In the sea

of banal-euphoric
tension that lures
primordial space
transparent blue
how it runs but remains the same the current
solemn rite desire creates blind love
like a sail eruption of remembering the wind
languished to satisfy my flesh
orphaned to measure love
like a revisited shadow
no longer belonging to
moonglow's absense
the emerald of hearts
breasts blessed opals
bloodstones lips
anesthetized
blind rainbow eyes
white almond lush carnal
body gleaming when touched
my last refuse your last
bath in the sea

waiting for unseen hands

unseen hands
pain not spoken not written.
tied up in the dark i saw from the coast
that i was drowned behind the paper moon
Scores of dreams
to show to light
like the calm reflections
that land the sinners in the hills of silence
the wind was mine only
i reached the lines of winter
till your gaze was dripping with tears

days of heaven

amber hair
when you feel me in the empty circle of bed
shipwrecked of openness.
all appeared loving become a bursting in my flesh.
do not waste the breaths that i gave you, because
all our existential loves
are but fictional ikons of mind
when we realize that we are finally alone......
and listen to our ghosts of remorse as
we lie together in half darkness satisfied
demanding more rupture naked
as dismembered absence of carnal touch
an intermezzo of
broken poetry of our eyes
now breaking as shapes of tone and solitude
embracing enslaving the paths of our heart ...as if we had one..
our souls will pass as blood and skin and auburn and brown hair
a buoyant bloom touch of trembling April kiss
before we set out in the exile of longing
as lighthouses ,as love forms , objects of desire...we will be
survivors of confessions close to our
wounds mesmerized separate but the same for the taking.
__________________

INITIATIONS(FOR GREECE)

The glittering of the moon in your stoned face
virgin as the flower of the holy rite
your body like an antique statue crying
a wreath of porphyry rose in your hair
blue touch sanctuary lust and breast bare
snake eyes resembling a ray of light
mystic you Kore and I the darkness of night

wind and scirocco dust

the south scirocco is now in the sand of dust
but i am old and lost the landscape.
my touch lost its eloquence
waiting for the artificial moons
following the moans of the heart of
old love fragmented by memories of pathos.
from the bloom of sea"s silence
blood then wind-like now as eternal return
into a lofty path as a walk of multitude
the sand remembers the blood types

she sees the palms of soul and of darkness
the sea dreams are dew on the pearled ears
breasts are made of sea-anemones and
paper- lilac virgins
flowing in moment of sight
the dunes have direction and remembrance
in the womb there are bloodlines and wind
sweet-scented like the mother's milk
white and blue memories with borders of blood
narrating and lengthening love and shadow.
__________________

you&I(two voices)

your soul's gaze upon my mind i lost all my thoughts
you fill my life suddenly you dare to love and not take
the clouds of tears and blood years to write a new
love story. how much i love you you never felt why me
all for you without the nights your eyes i see
all the streets that lead to you are thieves of memory
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
you keep your subconscious duet that came a million years
from the ornamental sea and
the color of sky unending unspoiled
is the abstract season
we will go to heaven then final orifice of souls
where vivid green grass mask my wooden steps of sleep
leaves trembled , the wind bends to pass
the remnants of darkened rooms of self.
sleeping beggars of beauty we are
until that emptiness bursts from the lost dream
that shapes us.
__________________

freedoms

all bones ghosts emerge in
blood drain rituals of masters
with severed flesh in the winds of change
i want the rain to ride a cloud of dream
a movement of war and peace
and let them be slaves
and i with no more blood to share
for i spend my life to be free
and that is all that i can bear

,Mystic...

Mystic
breaths
of sea-scent
a soft sand
fluttering
and the moon sinks
into the depths
of my hidden veins
If you see metaphors
to bloom like
a path into the mirror's reflection
is my drops of blood
that crafts shining leaves
blossomed at night
when I close my eyes
as the wind blows away my mind

JOURNEYS OF YOUTH(READ SLOWLY)

crashed through my vision over ebony
transparent your eye erotic
space offered as fountain of youth
cut out of clouds in the dusk without faith
forgetting the movements of
paths that corrupt
my vision images of the vanishing,
surrounded now by
rustic light the rising suns
winds and tides your figure
authentic sensory marble butterfly
a carnal alchemy of hand into your depths
like a blossom in the field more beautiful
than the firmament
a seed in which is encoded with many angularities
eyes that blossom also look more reflective
for i hold the vault of your mouth's desires
not spoken kisses not forced touches of consummation
my other self always antithetical
to your moves as wishes overflow
why is passion always the murmur of groves
and why my hand ever trebling to execute
a simple order of my heart
why is your lips as flowers
and i a snail eating fallen roses.
always ask the shadows of your soul
__________________

ARCHAEOLOGY OF LOVE

you sleep under the light
of marble in your eyes
ancient and hazy stones
ruptures after the dreams
breath that raises by the wooded love
and its desert
Formless, where you go
into the immeasurable void
the light that sets revolving
imagined in your sleep
is the full anonymous
and naked sense my touch
or the cover of time
that suffocates
your wants
ask ask my self
and its tormented shadows.
and now we have evolved
busts in the louvre
or the parthenon museum
polished amicable
erotic to others
but touch is not our company
delight and guilt
spoke to me last night
you lay claim
and admiration to my past.
poetry as your excuse to marble lust
you love my ikon because you never seen my
harvesting secret

BREEZE

the sea is calm now dressed in green full of leaves like aqua flowers
coming out to the south beach mixed with foam and trash.
the northeast wind escapes from the less luminous mountaintops
spinning the dry sand spraying the meadows waiting
bathing in the moment of light.
the monks are coming out of the sky monastery
with less worship for the forbidden tourist
to do some fishing and pray for a sea mist or rain
that will come as a blessing in the fall
the sea museum man will watch television all night talking to his dog
the retired captain will give us the daily weather stats
the fall bloodless sky will gather all the ghosts in the hills.
earth and stars are waiting for full darkness
spinning away a greater silence.
this gentle breeze in the rose-fields
falls in love with the sea
plays wind songs while the waves
with ocean lights star lights facing the azure
come to earth to embrace her wounds
At night I am going inside the heart of the island,
and feel the barren hills
I walk with the monks in the monastery of the mind
where the souls seek the fisherman
here all my childhood dreams were stolen
by the crossers the demons and the vagabonds.
the velocity of time is the narcotic power of the mind
is the opium of the night that will bring tears in my eyes
one life was lost so one moment eternal would be gain
and as the vision of the isle faints
this gentle breeze is the only solace that remains.

EM

the vast energies of his soul veiled
the wounds in his palms
as blue rituals of archipelagic essence
his thoughts wave after wave a sky of aqua fire
glowing like an ember
for the unknown rhyme measured glory
baptised by a Magellan sea of flame.
blinded by a marble-silk touch of muse
with blood"s light secrets
upon the stroke of his pen
and digital eyes thirsty of doves
and fragmental passions into wine presses of love
sailing and dreaming my dreams to come

speak memory

speak to me memory the language of seagulls
behind the hills behind the sweating sight
beds of sand tatooed by sudden wind
curved and open crevices particles of the skin of earth
with snake linear language
where the path into the cliff blue turns white foaming
air seeped through the stones ethereal as moans of this dry land
disconnected lay dormant following the wind of others
elevated lyrical images
of islands in high sea half to light half to gray _darkness
strains of memories
wave rolling wave to become equal in motion... in distance
into my mind to capture the essence
aqua choreography
the barren chest of isles producing depth not seen
by my sweeping cantos of self unity
sounds magical lured by the cardiac tunes
murmuring the language of skin and love songs

speak to me speak to me memory the language of seagulls

once a great sadness

beneath the surface of symphonic night
where strings and passions of heart reside
this impetuous surge of romance composed
and quarrel with light and shadow old
my idle eyes faceless movements do not see
quester icons in motionless aura
discover not a certain lover
and hollow sinful man of consummate desires made
without beauty and wealth of slave passion play
being a mere object of desire mate
years of hidden solitude of love fictional
recurrence of lust mythical only offer

my life my life my breath my breath of soul
as only early dawn with mauve clouds vanishing
with certain paper smiles one- half so beautiful

oriental carnal

reflections of lover 's harvest
of her color_ full breasts
bathed melancholically
in my spiritual veneration
as gifts of motionless soul
oriental serene beauty
full of scent salient
passionate like a fragrant
burning
path into my skin
this grasshopper butterfly linen where in a moist shadow
carnal ruptures occurred

HIS and HERS(flesh)

chrysalises of beauty her soft flesh.
sensuous fall
her words is
a melody for virgins
and
of nocturne purity.
most occult of the desires of his
lonely nights
in the intimacy of this erotic flesh
to be in vain
her touch slides into his skin.
curves of love can no longer wait.
the serenity to forget the cross of passion
is an empty despair and will not come as the
resurrection of his adamant flesh.
until silence turns love into his eyes.

erotic transfer

across the bed with its sails unconsciousness
occulting bird rattle your heart
and lets the fall in my soul
unable under your sensuality
scattered on the field of lust lore
Behind the blue shutters comes everything
your breathing shivering beach and sea
tangerine body openings
you are a clay pigeon
your touch brakes me back to genesis
of sin.
like the waves
of your flesh
and the kisses
of your second shadow.

the poet thinks

before soliloquy

xanthic strange morning with homeric accents
and ionic rasping consonants of childhood
out of the sensual world that surrounds me not
dreaming still the butterfly standing on a lean sea stone
my hidden and my true self the poet must write
the child approaches the circle of silence
surrounded by the circles of beauty
the doves fly away he cannot touch
but he remembers the shapes and the textures
the past is present the recurrent erotic images
become his first sin of virginity
still life of intimate stages of surrogate loves
lavished on his poems is the absence of art
the disturbing poetic daemonium has to create poetic myths
virtuosity must rise his initiation of beauty aegean
transmuted into a doric spirit with no faith
his sterility and bareness inwardly have to change into cherished illusion
remembering distorting,giving his inner world and words to
his lines as archetypes of lucidity of innocence
there is no climax there is no epiphany, only a hope for liberation

before soliloquy

Parthenon

Those were days of
fantastic images
resting on a pagan altar
in the vein of the white curtains of marble
a monument, a stoa a naos,a miracle of the golden age
is more than
a broken bone or a topical arrangement of death
by the flame of the baroque fall coloring
a moment mourned of vibrant glittering
form a palace as ancient epitaph
of self-declared gravity into a measured geometry
of phantom- soul
unbroken virgin hill with the surrounding light
its exuberant ornate skin
grasses conceal fields blurs of olive
is the eternal metaphor of mathematics and symmetries
a tortoise an endoskeleton of the past a sonata movement in marble
merges with the dirt oneness
a ghetto of a lost and found martyrdom of art
green grass devoured of scent of resin,
sky vanishes with wings of vivid ionic wings
as metaphor for certain mood ascetic and euphoric
recapturing the movement of lost movements
of previous souls
nomadic meter, rhyme, syntax,"’afterlife"
spaces of seldom
the Parthenon

the poet sleeps

her subconscious duet that came a million years
from the ornamental sea and
the colour of sky unending unspoiled
is the abstract season
i will go to heaven then final orifice of souls
where vivid green grass mask my wooden steps of sleep
leaves trembled , the wind bends to pass
the remnants of darkened rooms of self.
sleeping beggars of beauty we are
until that emptiness bursts from the lost dream
that shapes us.

two fragments

and terraces movements of atonal Darkness
solitude
with a painter's brush the changing light surrealist

fragrant
disappears into the depths dyed in
blood
with clouds before her eyes outside womb

alone
i am inside all
her mind peeled off from different worlds lures
me
as glow fluttered its eyes the sea of love
transferred

I desire ancient love
verses emanated from bloodstains
of distant clouds.
harvest the golden spirit
born of the image
in the centre of my virgin stars(years)
I suffer the abandon eternity.
bearing gifts of socratic torment
besieged in blood and wine
palms rising behind the aegean horizon as
my rhapsody of erotic sins walking the path of altars
with sorrow and my flesh -pieces offerings.

sonnet without form

the moon rolls out from the side of the shallows
like leaf fallen textured your nuptial kiss
roads lead to the blue lilac touch
sentimental of its libations
you are a beauty a scent of the river
carnal crypts between your arms of sin
where my imaginary lust lives elegantly
black laced skin blooms mauve symmetries of fall
with a view to live or die for desire
and love not
dispersed by the fluttering of your soul

lovers

tenuous silent with wine dreams i sleep
i drink the shadows scattered by the moonlight
chromatic aqua murmurs i hear
see woman moon with breast of dunes
wind round tortoise breeze of
earth desolate barren a sanctuary of stillness
i gaze stars of moonlight sky moonshine
nocturnal symmetries of soul mystical
and then i die into the self of night

pedestal

now before she brings the whole body to me
the night is long in the meadow grass
without rays of light skin invisible of sex-kitten falling out of love
model of cryptic body symbol as revelation
just moon-walked into tantalizing famed position
her carnal crown rusting purple
breathing lust and aromas with her cheap surgical mask
and a wispy tone of voice asking to share my human side
with all the fears of potent harmonic motion permeated
the gatherings of blue shades

the other

all forms of tenderness are ritualistic gifts for the bleeding
heart my mistress is ready to accept my unimportant bed
gathering the missing sounds she gazes the painting to
lift her breast obsession the lips suffer the hasty kiss
my voice is loosing its loquacious undercurrents i am lost
in this museum of consciousness with half naked torsos
across her eye bathing premature into the night
spreading shadows of flesh switched off herself now as a wife

stones

when the aegean sky bends its horizon to touch your hills and your mountain tops
no shine breathing life into your crevices expecting the low light surrogate
of your phospherized rainbows retired masterpieces of the opaque sand
words unfinished manuscripts ever -widening circles of melancholy to arrive.

progenitors of my metric life
touchstones without climax
a lavish heart raided by the wind
confiscated by your el greco beauty
constructions of light lyrical tones
recreating lucid pipe dreams
streaking away to the unknown journeys
rendering glowing sea waves with aqua purity
rasping sexographs of existentialistic resonances of self

and now the first shadows died
your sensuality an opening,a promise,a moira
a stone a cross of love
woman,sea,fire, all payments of heart with blood
and night and rain yet to come

moon fantasy

ethereal the steps in the selene
gliding in clouds you are in
the spectacle of heart with lace and velvet sail
afraid somehow to cast a shadow touch of luna gale
and think that stolen circular souls
spinning the alpha dust of ghosts as
lovers surrender to greater slave passions
of light and motions journeys
and inner songs of erotic homeric fame
devotion will found again in cosmic vines
till consummated the beauty rests and shines

cyber luna

who’s consuming you formless self between the lenses
loved by the eyes of dawn to turn your mind of pearl
rustling with shades of thousand pairs
private hells from your darker side visited
with the fragrance of the lotus eater masters
and the suitors of money and under-herdsmen holy servants
that spend their nights with your skin of sex-fare in
narrow resonate world of painted dreams with its lust
sensations of metal labyrinths must
enslave the money lenders in the holy altar
of your dark body voyager of martyrs and
wind -blown surfers of sexual transfigurations
who is consuming you formless self between the lenses

sometimes an immense journey

I was immersed in the sanctuary in the temple of my mind
you were immersed in the youthful exuberance
i saw your outer appearance you saw my inner reality
it was a mystical union an initiation journey, a passage,
i united you and divided you, and then all came into view

I must find some path into your heart a road much traveled
and yet its traces stepped on by soul-mates without pigments
like the snow covered field waiting for springtime sun
sea-anemone you are not mimic and masking the spider's web calm
not sweat no wasted motions we are sea-horses on the golden pond
perpetual perceptual pair of hermit- crabs we carry each other far
in time. chameleons with the protrusible tongue of poetry lost
we have become mere ionic surfaces reflections of dim light.

Alpha two

Knowing only the poverty of vision i possess
I enter the august lent and sinuous realm of virginity
to write in the shade of wood with Masonic Grecian light
of the tranquillity that glows in
the clear azure atmosphere
into waves and splendour of salty breezes
wind words have the murmur of groves
and of living waters and of still light
And may the fragrant breeze that frees and enslaves
obey the bliss of being an illumined lover
I breathe the honey fragrance
and a smoke- eye of sea tempest
with a list of wine and roses
for new growth of self
but when the erotic flame dies down
the charred lips left burnt black sex phantasy
the suddenness of eros and desire
waves swallowed by the blaze
on the sea silk route to Crete
i rest with the blind light

libertine death in Venice

she was an oldest profession ploy
so much desired as
most ardent satisfaction
a prelude to my vanity
i gave in instantly a supporter of the arts
at time of a poetic cholera writing
my poems of approximate death of self
on the wings of my pale passion
her path of light touch entered as a
a shady cloud of dust hiding the glimpses
of the thorny moon, her mechanical love
becoming libertine's play of
secrets suffering in my dreams
disillusioned pulse of a stoned heart
as her arms embraced me like a serpent
__________________

Phoenix

not the chosen was i
with veritable diplomas
cast to strange land modern Ulysses
of poetry of oceans and Piedmonts
to this unending lonesome plains
where mountains are only dreamed
and shores are only painted
was given the task to rebuild Solomon's poetical temple
and when they burned me
i arose again from the ashes
now called the Phoenix of Desire

tides

in scattered poems i search my marooned years
I gather my luster from the embroider illusions
like a reef sensual to foaming wave
would tear the skin of love chance
but never minded the mishaps of fate
ever wanting to be my shadow "s ghost
The tide comes in in her transmuted force
giving love to my lonely nights with amber demands
of erotic charge with no nectars.
every morning now so banal
in my foliage of naval skin
the wind becomes sail "s staggering aura
and then runs away in the snake mountain.

greek quiet earth

at the sunset voices of children were born
self-imposed loneliness in exasperation of
olive branches of coral wind to
translate the nocturnal purpose of
flesh and blood libraries with no books.
word and image smell dust and oregano
salty wind the force of confrontation
of the the distant symbols of life
under ground tour de force lamented over the sea
acting deteriorating like a surrealist aesthetic poem
dissecting my mind
ablaze with light

old lover

when you sleep with me the space always shrinks
and demands my attention as though our bodies were never to be
but visited paths that have been invaded by blared images
the color dust quivering
At night all is but a shade cast by a nights breathing
woven into lace of your beauty that is looming before my eyes
among the motions and the resonance
my lost touch old touch running deeper to remind you
of an old lover that still shares the same territory of flesh

extraordinary likeness of being

crashed through my vision over ebony
transparent your eye erotic
space offered as fountain of youth
cut out of clouds in the dusk without faith
forgetting the movements of
paths that corrupt
my vision images of the vanishing,
surrounded now by
rustic light the rising suns
winds and tides your figure
authentic sensory marble butterfly
a carnal alchemy of hand into you depths

language for landscape

fluttering fixed mind stoned
in the pomegranate trees
motionless promised past.
somehow lonely suspended like
chimes shiny strips
i heard the whisper
stalking the wind
mingling light of dim mirror
in purple Mosaic landmarks
that grows between cracks of flood
shadows
lapsing back into my aegean anonymity
landscape finally appears

unfinished painting

in the dream world
where albatross rise and dive

in the Aegean blue
where butterflies elliptical
fly
with limitless step to every climb

painting ethereal corral cloud
seeking
sea anemone luminous
in the deep solitude of arid aqua desert
where sea Sirens sing Delphi oracles
cosmic music of lyrical effusions
unveiled by sentimental
palpitations of
an eloquent heart

south of smog

in the seaside anguished
among the corpses of summer
i am up high on the roof down below are priestly tribes

air conditioned nightmares scribes
devoted handmaids of plaz
and neon lights painters
swimmers
fictional characters in polychrome oz
pseudo aristocrats of greco form
a piece of cold bread and roman cheese i eat
and drink a red wine shadow
with highbrows full of smog
and point all my arrows till i am horizon lost

the light ceremonies (three)

like a forgotten monk that gains his self
going in and out of awareness of the vain
lost in the ephemeral schisms of transformation
in the land of the free and the lonely
where the heart only resides at night
and whispers the songs of existence as light and shadow
in the dreamscape i found my old remembrances
as ascetic ghosts of love
blurring i imagine happiness as mere fragrance of desire
the books of life are now finished stories
as aesthetic symbol rituals of initiation
appearances of pleasure of the other
under a veil of want that perishes in oblivion
finally i am suffering with my own company

not so easy piece

we are existing hieroglyphics
as blind voices blade of kiss
her blue eyes of Horuss lust
my hair dark seaward
her melodious voice
sweet incense of drowned moon
and melting memories of
low tides
burning my flesh
surrendering her
body as destruction of want
mesmerized sea to ebb revealing
a trap opening as clam and stone.
‘seen’ images.
down by the
shore and the museum.
the silent world is
in this sanctuary of vividness

the new Ilyum

with a mask ambivalent roman roses refracted
in the pool of blood of doves made the new domain as eidolon
as ancient sins fatal memories of self
Achilles egotism will skin the atomic soul
till we fall into the sea of rocks with the austerity
of the new fisherman
and the colours painted blue ikons idols of modernity
the few will swallow the art of the many in the snake
and desert silk cyber petroleum roads
seeking the libations as fear of Seven
the one will become an old idea of the masses
as theon of mere feeling
not as holy presence to govern
but as peculiar breath of the carnal
digital human with artificial skin of palm
and plastic energies
and breath will fly the wind that burns the water
the eyelid of ocean artificial love
silent and distant as the eyes of the gods
__________________
thalasa7@gmail.com

Dovecotes of the mind

in the street of dreams oracular Aeolian winds
blow unrelenting the marble poplars
deep shaded carved wooden ikonostases
lush paths of the interior soul
with venetian modes in this gathering of the multitude
we aspire the same medicines and dogmas
as pilgrims of faith in transmigration
windmills and dovecotes of the mind
Miracle workers,healers, arriving in the isle of Delos
cleansing sacrificing in the wooden streets of palm




dovecotes; pigeon houses of Tinos island in Cyclades

erotics

fiery red lips enslaving my mind
the gates where
porphyry milky-light
draws me in authorial mother of night
bound goddess line
of the flaming-sky
from the honey of figs of August
my phantasm creates and opens veins
hanging breast and moving hair ladder
climbing for the early kiss of madman
taking her breath of love play as
aromatic blowing oil
she enters my bed of circle coil
searching for the significant other
the beholder the poet and the lover

baby kisses of a sage

the fragrance of his tiny feet in my mouth
gathered by the breath of desire the art of homo-sapiens
I embraced her curvature landscape where
the books of love are vanished
in the dreamscape of creation
i found my old remembrance in the rooms of the heart
voices of tenderness and unending pain
why my lord and destiny have you forsaken me
i have slept with the serpent and was thrown to the lion
and ihave sacrificed my genesis to the lords of children of the lesser god
memory stricken and catharsis bound
i bend with the wind of bitterness and the kisses of the sage

never seen your eyes

the muse got me under her wings
and carried me to places of eugenic beauty
of form and grace
but never seen you
as sole bird of hypnotic cosmopolitan fame
rather as recreation of my own phantasy thirst and crave
like blind painter i draw your lines my lines of connecting fragments
i drink of you and touch you not
in this tragic hyperlife of digital sea of diction
waiting in line of my new cruxifiction
poetic nails not bleed but heavier the dome of existence
that will carry me to your hills
to love you
and cherish you as eidolon
of memory lost
exotic pathos of ascetic decadence
sin maybe sweet
but how i ask to be the only sinner that never sinned with you.
forsaken i see you not and see your signs that torture me
so many years behind your steps
in your discoveries of self you took me
and pin me into your lust of skin
not ending not with temporal love but
with hermetic taste and smells of virgin blood
and summer breezes and sudden narcotic glyphopetals
and you lick my wounds in your caves of erotogenic cell
your soul
given not given to my candle endings
you seek me out you close me in with
my loving exarsis and my dreamwings

erotic one

i am a river sailing turning you into nymph with
passionate tectonic balconies
radiance of
anguished lover
by gulls in the sand
unveil the path as the seer
body of light curves your gentle lines,
white hands sin the lust of black fields
the youth of sculpture and the ecstasy
reveals all of winepresses and grapes of love
like the memory of
     dreams of flesh in the harvests of shadows
I blame you you blame me
with the black instincts all given inside the white linen

holy mask of love

like a forgotten work of art an ikon hang in a wall of flowers
left idle by time and social system in the open air monastery you are a
purified rose against my thorn of lust
corrupted by your beauty rituals
a stream of light you radiate
clothe me with grey looks of Franciscan eyes
shadow lips that have the taste and vision of sorrow
dedicated to the ancient virginity that speaks the silence of doves
and i escapee for island harmonies
taste your bitter lemons of sin
in love with the words that were never spoken
in the end of space where the blue light
phantom of mauve shadows lies
holy shy in the measured touch of night
and other forbidden dreams that feeds my ascetic mind
behind the mask of love , your mask of your Franciscan eye

till all are one

till all become one
your dark kisses of your lost touch searching for submission
your hands trying to liberate from the bonds of desire
as mere repetitions of needles of lust
to find one in another to lose the other in you
with degrees of sole want we climb ourselves to feel the carnal apotheosis
and since when we make love we fall from the position of rule
we become the chords of eroticism virgin strings of love
a breeze gathering shades and ghost of self
enduring a great oblivion of visions without signs
not seen but felt as the wind that blows
with ruby--coloured wine transcending the passion into
waves stimulating the down of rose becoming visible
in the cool night we climb the stars the flaming western skies
till all become one

I shall never know

by the ranging waves
ephemeral memory of passion
born and vanish
in these virgin shores
white marble glory aqua stone
erupting from the dust of the universe
unfolds a peculiar immensity of freedom
and beatitudes of mind
not yet explored the emotions
you see that innate boundaries
are frontiers i shall never know
illuminated beauty
the sea i shall never possess
radiance of women
evening falls
around the flowering inner
when the darkness stirs
__________________

a sea of flame

a sea of flame. spring calm dying as if out of season
landscape silences are like sorrows of dunes
the leaf imagined stars like my eyes
the glimmering light comes to the owl almost as journey’s end
the moon mother of shadows barren vast in the territory of my heart
rushing across the field burning my soul in the night wind
__________________

standing in front of beauty( The Art)

standing in front of beauty even the part of artistic blindness
suffers a new reality of visualisation the part of metric consciousness
to manipulate to examine. the optic comes cerebral
from the previous journeys of the brain.visuals of the soul can only
be explained with poetry since the muse has a dose
of magic given by the genetic creator that may be from the theon or the
the panoramic. our eyes remain ever hedonistic so they want to see beauty
her ikons and her final impressions are and will be the power of aphonous sirens of the aegean

Lightness of Medea forms

on the top of this ancient hill the most mysterious
objects are still hidden by modern manners unnoticed
myths dramas of euripides and sophocles and the tourists
and the new modern immigrants walking as playing the chorus parts
but aphonous archaic reliefs with fast movements of the new land
our bodies before the music starts behaving
as small amniotic universes
and our modernistic sad spaces are not for real
so our hands have the same form without motion
our walking dance mimic our dramas and our looks suffer
more and more in this expressionistic theatre of life

poetic slavery of language

in a marble tide dreamlike
stones for rubies fossils for blood
the eye’s kiss is a sky
the innermost cypress bends
out of winds and rain is
a vanished monument
veined and hollow
that is turned into poetic words
under the sails into the depths of
the wind that blows the clouds
waving the young morning light
into submission
i play with language without accepting her own slavery

ask the shadows of your soul

like a blossom in the field more beautiful
than the firmament
a seed in which is encoded with many angularities
eyes that blossom also look more reflective
for i hold the vault of your mouth's desires
not spoken kisses not forced touches of consummation
my other self always antithetical
to your moves as wishes overflow

why is passion always the murmur of groves
and why my hand ever trebling to execute
a simple order of my heart
why is your lips as flowers
and i a snail eating fallen roses
always ask the shadows of your soul

the new step of blood-fall

all these blood-fall isolated like in narcosis
when my heart stops and begins
promising the earth(as cover)
a true descendant of the vineyards
and the steps of light
walking the avenues of life
with no returns until the autumn arrives
having only impressions of self
with the purity of one moment
wanting more time in my beggars hands
so i could be more human

and only when the sail begins
i seize the wind
like sea beggar in my hands and sights
sacrificing my ego for atonement
enduring this constant silence of limited faith
and when i touch the holy promontory
no one greets me
the marble kiss of the island city square is swirling
the moon is still
a search for the owls and myself has just begun
__________________

Apollo cruxifictions

your glow has diminished in the eternal now
leaving behind a thin trail of darkness
that is more of a feel a smell in the night
and i barefoot i with my oracle kiss
with some thought of solitude without faith
that leads me outward to you like love
mystical and shy without any art of persuasion
a saint on my last grain of desire
into the chambers of museums
and dressing rooms of oracle like
tourist Apollo with your ivory Egyptian
sailor eyes now hanging on the wall
eats the jelly of the bull
searching for stoned prophesies
from the measured light
stealing the ancient afternoons
mute as fish angel of sleep
among gold tapestries of flesh
and you breath into my mind holy smoke
behind your eyes fixed like ivory holy ghost
and while the historical relics in despair
weep in my corner
your almond eyes were setting and rising all the moons

DREAM IMAGES

Dream horses into the opium of sleep
an avalanche of motion
killed by the painted sky
back to you sarcokisses
i am falling from the clouds
wings shrouded in blue
the darkened sand of the breaking wave
eludes me revealing the boundless plain.
deeply immersed in your bed of linen
i am vanishing demolished
bodies skinned as epiphanies
until the great storms of nightmare
down the gentle slope .. till i do not exist
__________________

colours inherited from the days of milk and honey
and the ruby_dark oily nights now scattered by the wind of dreams
in your skin of your old touch
you filled your eyes with multitude
and empty breaths of the sea

words fallen from the mouth of thorn
staggering to the rhythm of gravity
under the weight of a dream
liquid snakes, the rays of the moon
dead nightshift beyond death
the essence of nothingness
the blue doves and the white clocks
emerging disappearing in the immense
solitude
the green-shadow virgin
anticipating the warm blood
the light madness that creates magic sexual images
glass Oriental cities with no people
bourgeois cathedrals with no streets

imagine the sirens
imperfect quantum mechanic essences
of ethereal reflections
in the white light and
the tiny movements of life
apparent as stillness
cannot be captured in language.
only accidental glances to the sea
a gust of wind
rushes the swell of waves
brushes the sunlight
and my burn face
all primordial spaces arise like
the morning,like woman
takes my lips
and the land, between them
out into the glare
your face of sand like wet flag
like a sail has disappeared.

the sun is refusing to follow my broken shadows
my steps antagonistic to the murmurs of my heart
engulfs my blood
like the sea the gulf's crevices
why the absorbed narcotic salty wind
bends space and gravity
disillusionment offerings
maybe an end of light is near.
i watch the natural theatre blue tones flatten space human
mental photographic spaces
to walk on them fly on them
down in the end of the cove
images were of sailors people
of emotion earth-toned colours and oceanic
supplanted with brighter colours of their eye
fainted with the passing of time
would cut you if you touched them
poetic works with no structure
not continuum (stopped) moment in time
women half naked primitive masks
,objects collage of desire
fallen in love in my mind and movements
of sadness monochromatic
returning to my own psyche
different shades of blue
the paint of my soul revitalised

the defence and apology of my poetic method is
beauty not measured by divine madness rather
jury theatrical in the court of melodramatic grandiosity
as trial has ended the verdict is out guilty as charged
for many verbal excesses and stylistic arrogance
idiosyncratic genius of story as ballad has fail
very few liked my distorting remembering my iconoclastic
theories of love
to mesmerize, obsess, and educate in my sail
became a slave of metrics artificial impulse.
poetry of heart of darkness , my archetype.
original and conceptual ancient lines
in the web-like domain of grant didactic vision
i am a non -prolific writer lost in the the boundaries shade
wants to persuade lovers of different taste
cave in to my desire to please the crowd, to climb to the next stage.
i lost my craft my island of fame but poet is not an island Aristotelian mate
my divine inspiration my art my technê. has deserted me
I finish...this is my ambiguous ending

when
we make
love
we die
with the
ascending
part
pointless
loving
satisfaction
our bed
the empty tomb
Aramaic
language
sexual
talk
is a taboo
ploy
before
ascending
into body
heaven.
dead, lover
i am not
but empty
asexual chrysalis,
post facto
epigraphy
irrational
papyri discovery
of bliss
hallucinated
form for-Mary
Magdalene
sinner of bliss
resurrected in
another universe
of kiss
__________________
poets never leave their soil and illusions.

before time was stolen by the seagulls
arriving to places of specificity virtual points of return
my own death of older self sleeps in the corners 0f remembrance as stage actor of wooden floors.
the odour of existence pulls me in.
but like a forgotten harbour that now i am the known behind the strangers known
i go blue to remain visible reborn my veins gathering light
dancing the local dance to draw a older woman's eye
like a bee in the rain paradoxical yet dispensing
acanthus nectar afraid of the wind’s darkness
to dance the time is a delicate matter
butterflies learned that from the wind, so close to beauty like flying sea shells of dune. so finally arrived i become younger of death seen fresh
the sea will rock me gently telling me of past pleasures of sins and flesh

your voice modulation of music shattered.
lost in the smiles of others when they were too happy
anyone really knows how i lived without embrace
walking the pain in the street the marble of corners remembered
full of dust of time victor of ego and alter ego
symbolic touch of anamnesis " vivere'"
opulent disappearance of its inner flame
lost in beauty tempered by desire voices tells me that only slave-girls
you and i are lonely longer than the river of Nile
old vanquished lovers
come out of the shadows and show me their heart

into the distance.
along the sculptured direction of the wind,

the wave breaks
dreaming linear ripples arise in search of form
unravels chromatic sea apotheosis
embraced now by the sun light
vanishes across the field of vision of the next breeze

current voices exotic disguised , stained

collect my grief as eternal light

maternal kiss of the Aegean wind
__________________

Compassionate is the night demanding my ghost of anarchy
the daemonic forces devising further schemes of initiation
transmuted into a mild madness of aloneness
i turn to the east where the dreams of soul come disguised passion of the heart
loneliness gives me despair a dark tunnelling is in from of me..the fear of darkness,the unknown,death

the inner dialogue begins..peripatetic i am in the road of shadows
I need inspiration ..some Olympian clarity from the gods
poetry creates the flux and chaos then attempts to fix it .only memories that are embedded in my metafictional self can be turn into themes, reflections by creating panoramas and exteriorization better vistas,motifs.
I will ever be between my innocence of child and the vividness and purity of saints and demons
and woman the personification of sexual fulfilment the only time wholesome
her idea of virtual coming home her language motions touch can unites us
in the greatest journey of flesh

behind the hills behind the sweating sight
beds of sand tatooed by sudden wind
curved and open crevices particles of the skin of earth
with snake linear language
where the path into the cliff blue turns white foaming
air seeped through the stones ethereal as moans of this dry land
disconnected lay dormant following the wind of others
elevated lyrical images
of islands in high sea half to light half to gray _darkness
strains of memories
wave rolling wave to become equal in motion... in distance
into my mind to capture the essence
aqua choreography
the barren chest of isles producing depth not seen
by my sweeping cantos of self unity
sounds magical lured by the cardiac tunes
murmuring the language of skin and love songs

I am the Semitic princess of the unnatural passion and acts, fable for the aeons
my papyrus is dotted with tragic stigmas and immeasurable intrigue
seafaring people with sheep and goats we became circular terracotta mariners of fame. not i.
if I had a choice i would be artistic. I love the astonishing frescoes in the palace ,the vases, the jewellery
all that is Minoan with the Cretan lightness the delicate sense of movement.
Syria or Egypt would my preference but fate changed her mind
I like to paint and talk the new formed language the holy kiss of symbols, hieroglyphic is the name ,secrets for gods to know.
ja looks like a cross, and delta seems to be like a triangle, but Kai is a bull's head( a strange parastasis remains)----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am so involved Cnossus is a strange place to be my future home, I forget to tell my name.
my name is Pasiphae i was chosen to be king's Minos wife but Daedalus is my friend the center of my sex life
Not really that was a sure maidens fault all virgins have it I look ahead a human girl's mistake
all were calm predictable ( i hate this ,excitement is my real game) initiated i am to Dionysian desires
I wish to be in Babylon or Mari in the Euphrates with wild men with horns of consecration and double axes and wine.
here there is fresh air ,gold and fame ,but life is a ritual no one knows the future
our fate common but chance plays erotic games to thought and self, fragile always remains
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Since the holy bull came out of the waves like a new plague of Eros I am not happy with the king
Hermes and Aphrodite and all the other sexy gods must have conspired to bring me such a calamity
My mind at night is always fixed in that powerful image what personification or metaphor signifies
except of carnal want it must be something real unreal holy unholy unnatural.
Daedalus must construct a contraption which would enable me to have the ultimate relation with the beast
the acts unnatural always bring tragedies there is no ex machina god to interfere now there is half a man half a bull. Minautar.
the rest is myth, virgins, labyrinth, mysteries, the one thing is for certain : Crete still real remains.
__________________

i the bee of forgotten imitation
on the border between voices and aura skin
olive branch hill phonetic river
a parastasis luminous eminence of metaphysics
i dream harmony and balance
i travel with the speed of light so i can return to myself
as owl or as sparrow so time would be only a habit
not relating to specificity of genus sapiens
or as optic ring that blurs the borderline
through a prism between the genres
I sleep where the sea lay the sand of time
her grains the million trillion dreams of circumstance
and i will come back to my former sage self that
sings the song of the wind .i the bee of forgotten imitation
__________________

upstairs in the old house in the Provence in the centre room
the eyes of my grand-father look at me wanting to whisper something
i listen and search the next museum room
where his consciousness of self the door the entrance of my mimesis
my physical inheritance has martyrs of few fragments: an agfa camera
some old nautical maps, a tobacco silver case with mine and his name engraved

when he was home when i was young
my internal exile was the house where he lived
his prologue became my epilogue
his visions my formal education
grand father was a visionary a painter of future
the sea and the mountain were his doubled courtship
he washed my feet in the holy sea water
and taught me how to hunt the doves and kill almost none
doves unlike us have a vantage point of the azure the sky he murmured
accepted life with serenity of the small wave respected its tour de force
as soul exposed to the levant wind with grace ...... fate and time following its natural course

silver and golden his memory engraved in my soul
__________________

a kiss is condensed menacing,
of black marble soma flesh
the dream woman of anonymity
timeless
polyphonic my flesh air torn of skin and sight and words of butterflies
lures shadows

fade and pass as pointless afflictions burning ashes in line with the veins of spirit erotic

a thesis of love rainbows in view of the stanger
of the great unknown of the heart"s vibrance
the clock stops but she does and does not touch
her pulse has reached a great impasse
eyes of cotton-fields hands of mirage that comes over the sea
and these is how it comes and this is how it goes
broken false stars crossing the rivers ever set visible
kissing her moons and touching her hearts

setting free the ghosts phantoms of
allurement.
the elegance of solace
the lyricism of nothingness that is how i always start
this tension of symmetrical infinity
I have a monogamous fear of sentiment
this void archaic euphonious yearning
to feel the pure light the unsure metaphor
the vast emptiness the vast nothingness of the eternal now ,as opulent melancholy of the self, the sea
nothingness follows me like the muses followed orestes,like fate followed oedipus
blind now tom the metaphors of mind
drinking the scent of the aegean sand
olive tree colour in the end of waves bleeds shades of blue
not seen but felt as lament liquid adagios
where the lilac toneless desires whiteness
nothingness eyes as multicolour sea air ... gods sea wind
for nothingness I write for nothingness I cry
setting free the ghosts phantoms of
allurement.

alter egos

in the course of nostalgia about their ikons of youth
night by day they become incandescently impersonal
an endangered species non svelte lovers
confessions is the discovery of their sins
that comes under the mask of banal holiness
at the first level they lay your origins and sex roots
pretending to be innocent and non receptive of ecstasy
a spectrum of mimic mannequin passions
that fall as the veils of desire
the sweet gender is to be explored as orgasmic pyre for progeny
slow and cerebral writing the cuneiform of life
in the gardens they still gather apples for their defence of their redemptive aesthetic beauty or as blessed victims of
their carnal pleasures

for the honour of place as altar
I am publishing only my first draft as is
thalasa7

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ancient deception of modern man

a self-declared archaeologist of ruins

historical places of now fame  eclipsed
topographical word_ocean of memories
recapturing the movement of lost movements
of previous souls
we dig very little we find just a shade first
then a broken bone or a topical arrangement of death

the Parthenon is not a monument, a stoa a naos,a miracle of the golden era....
is more

grasses conceal fields blurs of olive
is the eternal metaphor of mathematics and symmetries
a tortoise an endoskeleton of the past a sonata movement in marble

fluttering breeze sins of a stone tides

maybe my poor elusive mind will produce a poet

but the Parthenon is nomadic meter, rhyme, syntax,"’afterlife"

spaces of seldom

I am on my knees i kiss the earth of Athens

on the Ionian shores we make
a pathway connecting the veins to the Adriatic sea
with
easy sailing
facing the blue of the bays
we feel the ancient aura burning softly our skin old men of short springs
and the sea our last acoustic catacomb
this floating essence speaks to us of
deserted monasteries and pathos of peace
its lust-spotted of mountain's whisperings
some colours cannot be deciphered cannot be measured like the wind
giving us scars of white and blue chariot clouds
time by suns shadow upon lean stones for a second then another , spun from the memory of genesis
by breath of image and iodine,and salty infusions we exist in desolation
we sail
we live
and die
__________________

modern castaway i am travelling with seven tourist virgins
to Ithaca the island of such Homeric fame
blind the storm winds blind the moist rain
blind also I am a naval Tiresias
from long life wasted in the lands of cyclops and lystrigones
returning sweet is my return before the dawn enters
sand is smooth hearing the sea absorbing all her tides

lightness and delicate sense movements
hieroglyphic syllables the silent waves
i am as leaf in breeze in stillness and in tempest
an old soul formless like sea abyss stirred - agonised
my symbolism is vanishing , but not my grace and language
my philosophies fainted but not my offerings aim
my coastline rough and ragged with deeply carved bays
but still a visionary with my Dionysian spirit and song
washed up in the land of Nausicaa waiting for my Persephone

when the black night imposes shadows comes across and clothes the opposite house
every minute is counted as temporal blindness of my innermost spirit
that refuses to post anthems and lamentations as it cuts the corners of my soul
and since darkness belongs to the domain of death floats narcotic to the distant dreams
to find new faces new masks new voices with arms of woman and myth of lips
crossing the bridges of shades and abstractions of forgotten memories
the trees have become souls, the street has become an absence of forms

now the rain comes and plays its inaudible aria sensual epilogues to the windows of the world

the night ,the night, her. i am in her arms for ever

coming from Americas empty vast landscapes
to the open wind-swept aqua spaces of the Saronic
just one moonlit hydra moment would suffice
the baby dolphins play here in this mini island promontory
translating my feelings into images their mystical lingo heard
anthologies poems of subtle shades of marine colours
all the debutantes that deteriorated visited here
to forget the self -imposed loneliness that money and fame gives
this island forces you to confront yourself to find yourself
here no cars allowed as if progress has to stop so one is forced to walk the narrow up
hill intimate passages erotic windows who shield the

open
the small sky that suddenly expands ..oh it expands to new sky sea like horizons
I give you only a glimpse..I am tired and i am ready to go to sleep to see the rest
like dreaming... in hydra isle to see the rest like dreaming.........

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going from kalimnos the sponge island
to Patmos the holy island it was a journey that took me twenty years
my most hypnotic and
moral,amoral thoughts become very lucid when i visit this place
also known as a butterfly isle on account of its schematic idiosynchracy

in its imaginary holiness,
heretical the ascetic
are mysteries preserved in their purity, or falsified
and alloyed with fictions
living not atheistically the mode of the believer
but i am a poet i must travel eloquent than any lips
birth, place, inspiration, give me the baptism and my fate
with a new glimpse into the human garden
happy as in Eden.
to climb to those lofty and sublime peaks
without reservations and cares
( i spend so much time waiting,wasting)

and after I ate,and drunk the holy wine
and bathed in the Aegean brahma
i felt so buoyant like a moth into the blood of Greece

a voice came from the north wind
compelling me to say.....to hydra to hydra isle ... Saronikos gulf cannot wait
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