The Groove on Repeat

The needle crackles as it presses upon the same tune.
With every turn you short-changed yourself.
Every weak, manipulative, broken man you could find, THAT was your prince charming.
The men who hated, who you were, what you stood for, who had zero interest in
knowing you…
those men who automatically assumed you would put up with their
broken record… the same sad song.
On repeat… like a needle stuck on a vinyl record groove.
You dug deep to find that pure unadulterated shit.
Those B sides no one else would listen to
Your move….my prince.
Flip it to the other side.
I know those girls, ladies, women well.
I cultivated them and then… ravaged them.
Prime rib with a side of, hell-bent on making you feel inadequate.
Thirsty men prey upon troubled souls, those which they helped create.
This endless supply of oppression, degradation, obsession, attention seeking
targeting anything that seems the least bit feminine.
You’re been handed an unequal life from the start
Convinced you are worse than, lesser than, below us.
Yet….We are you. You are us.
But we’re out of touch…
Like a one hit wonder, never to be heard from again.
Stuck in the back of a track list long…
We don’t adore the feminine, oh that faggot I’m not him…
Self hate is a horrible thing to waste precious time on.
In order to love us you must love yourselves.
I’m not talking in clichés, this is the real thing.
Smashing the record against the wall… stop listening to that crap.
The deal with this division was someone else’s decision… marking for a collision course
to ourselves.
Look up…. that glass ceiling is covering you too.
Flip it.

Recipe for Disaster-

Mural by SimpleG @simpleg1 – Athens, Greece

How does it taste?

My desire for you….

Is my flavor too much for your stomach to take?

I cooked it slowly with the age old recipe.

Spent all night blending the spices just right.

I put slices of passion in between each promise and lustful embrace.

I let the juices bubble and hiss.

  *     *     *

Is it too salty?

Did you leave in haste due to heartburn?

Too many cooks spoil the broth I guess.

I must confess this was a recipe for disaster.

I’m a master in the kitchen and a servant of my heart.

I’ll have to start over with this prep, follow each step to the letter

I should have known better

You can’t serve creme brulee in a plastic cup.

Tainted Fruit-

Mural by @FKDL– Bushwick, Brooklyn NY
The delicate insignificance of your smile
was quietly encouraged by you.
Overwhelmed by your self importance
you over estimate your value and weight.
Acting like an emotional cheapskate.
                                               .   .    .
Shameless self promotion causing the death of substance at your feet.
But you won’t admit defeat.
You would rather die than see the other side of the coin.
A Trojan horse infiltrating the souls of those who cross your path.
A monster in sheep’s clothing.
                                              .    .    .
Beware of my wrath.
It’s deadly and never misses the mark.
Cheap thrills don’t purchace a place in my heart.
It’s a stark contrast to a chorus of lies and ego boosting shots.
I tell the truth and it’s not pretty, I’m gritty.
I’m the real deal.
You try to steal my thunder but you fall and crack when you’re exposed to the light.
                                           .   .   .
And still… and still
I fall hard for my lesser self.
The one that believes you to be mighty and me a speck of dust on your shoes.
I lose myself in your world of titans and and one eyed thieves.
I neglect the divine femininity that will break it all apart into a million little pieces.
                                        .    .    .
I won’t be this, weak little thing for you.
My roots are deep and my fruit is luscious.
I’m a wild child I’ll stick to your subconscious like sweet nectar.
You tasted my juices and spit them out.
That’s not what I’m about.
Time is of the essence and in order to bear fruit
we must rise above low expectations.
But still… I fall…

Liquid Courage

You drew me to the water’s edge and let me taste your smile.

I laughed at all your silly moves, your stupid jokes just made me swoon,
The way you adjust your shirt, was magical to me.
I stare at our reflections wondering what radical world I live in that gets to have you in it.
I’m in too deep this strange mystique is making my body overflow.
Love is like a river flowing through me.
Paint brushed skies and lines. Bridges to your heart are paved with golden light.
I just might need a minute to breathe.
Like ivory and ebony you play my tune perfectly.
Something’s come over me… it’s making the broken parts seem whole again
once again I can see the beauty within me.
My body was made to be next to yours,
a pull so profound it’s like breathing.
You make my heart swell and my chest expand
and then I remember to take a breath again.
It’s like cheating death.

Achilles Heel-(Αχίλλειος Πτέρνα) – Greek Version


Καθρέπτες αντανακλούν σκοτεινά πρόσωπα που χάθηκαν σε απομονωμένες γωνίες και πονεμένες καρδιές

Ξεσκεπάζουν μυστικά και άβολες ματιές και χαμένες ευκαιρίες

Χείλη σφιχτά και κλεμμένες… τρομαγμένες ματιές

Κουρασμένα βλέμματα χάνονται σε φωτεινές οθόνες, εκτρέπουν, αποφεύγουν, απορρίπτουν.

Παίζουν το ρόλο ξανά σε μια παράσταση που κανείς δεν θέλει να δει.

Και το μόνο που βγαίνει είναι μια άφωνη κραυγή.


Πως μετράς μιαν αγάπη που σκίστηκε στα δύο;

Δημιουργήσαμε μια ιστορία που κατασπαράζεται με τη πρώτη ευκαιρία

Είναι ξεκάθαρο ότι σκόνταψα σε μια φαντασία



Δε δέχομαι άντρα σε τιμή ευκαιρίας.

Δεν ακροβατώ πια μεταξύ φθοράς και αφθαρσίας

Μπροστά στην μετριότητα δεν στέκει το τέλειο αλλά η ουσία.

Δεν δίνω πια σημασία σε αυτά.

Πόσο θα αντάλλαζες τη βόλεψη σου για μιαν αγάπη αληθινή;

Μάλλον δε θα μάθεις ποτέ.

Η απορία παραμένει στεγνή.


A child of two nations

I’m an American girl with a Greek Soul

I’m a Greek girl with an American mind

I thought I was an abomination, a child of two nations

But I’m one of a kind.


I put mind over matter

I put my heart over my mind

Cause it all matters.

I’m often blind to the lesser than, the because of, the despite that

I’ll change at a drop of a hat, or I won’t change at all.


I put up walls to protect what’s mine.

I’m spontaneous and grounded

Loving and jealous

Mindful and impatient

Caring and vengeful.

I’ll cut you like a knife and heal you like a summer breeze

I’m a big tease

I run free.


Fire is my middle name,

Desire drives my path through pain.

Again and again… I repeat cycles

Cause I have a knack for the strange and profane.

I’m a little insane.


Too much, too lonely, too fearful at times.

I need to be heard at times

I scream to the hills at times

I cross the line at times

I try to find the good in everyone at times

I often waste my time

I know it’s not a crime

But I’m no Angel….

Did I miss the boat?



The coming of spring always brings with it moments of reflection, renewal, and shedding the old proverbial skin. Spring is about replacing, restructuring and doing away with many of the things we may have buried in our winter minds.

How do we measure a happy life? How do we measure a successful one?

How do we know that we are on the right path to self realization, and our “highest self”?

There are moments that all these thoughts keep circulating in my head, after many years of practicing yoga, going to mindfulness workshops and trying to figure out what is the best path in life, and am I on it?

I’ve been thinking where I’ve been and where I’m going, what I’ve accomplished, what I set out to do and didn’t complete, what roads I have traveled that lead to places I didn’t expect to go to, and what lies ahead as I approach my 40th year on this planet.

I spoke to a friend I’ve known for almost 20 years, and as I usually do;

I asked her… “are you happy?”

Her answer of course didn’t surprise me as I’ve thought exactly the same thing.

She relented: ” I’m getting older, I am very lonely at times, my parents are getting older. I fear for their health and well being, I wonder what it is I’ve really accomplished in this life. I’ve not had a family, and do I still have time to have one? I feel like I’ve missed the boat” she said.

As we approach those ages, where the “milestones” of accomplishment are not always visible;  we are unfairly placed against a timeline of who and what we “should be”. I related with my friend’s conundrum, as I’m sure many of us do. I don’t like this feeling of getting older having not reached those “milestones”. I am weary of my parents getting older and having to take care of them in their later years. I try to “snap out of it”; I told my friend, and remind myself of the journey that has led us all here. The wonderful projects I’ve participated in as an artist, a yoga teacher, a performer and now as of late a beginner writer, often allude me when I’m at a loss for what’s next.

It’s perfectly acceptable to face our fears, our loneliness, and our realizations of “have I done anything useful with my life? We are facing an age where the expectations weigh heavy. In Greece women my age “should” have had kids by now, they “should” have settled down and figured it all out, and the wild and free and unsettled energy that women have is often quashed for a more “sensible” family oriented path. Yet there are beautiful examples to the contrary.

I don’t want to be misunderstood as some “desperate wannabe housewife”, waiting for her turn to be realized. Women now more than any other time are allowed to be whatever the hell they want, do whatever they want, and navigate their lives in their own way, and yet there is something in all of us that wonders…

Have I done enough? Who will take care of me? Is THIS all there is? Am I successful enough? Did I miss the boat? 


Even the most confident women I know have admitted to me, after much objection to the contrary, that these thoughts cross their minds from time to time, for what is this life without, personal accomplishment, companionship, friendship, camaraderie and a deep understanding that we can beautifully navigate this life with others beside us.

Have you met your expectations?

Did you set out goals that you didn’t manage to accomplish?

Day 27. – Paris is Burning

Post 27 of 27.

View from the Pompidu Museum- Marais

I am posting with a small delay as I was in transit between Paris and London and I wanted to take the time to write about this last day of my 27 day challenge, and what it meant to take this much needed journey.

London Bridge 
Street Art in the London Bridge neighborhood of London

This year I celebrate my 40th birthday. It’s a milestone of sorts, as I’m sure it is for all who cross that threshold. I never knew what to expect of this day, whether I would have a family by now, whether I would be living in a big house or a small cottage in a village somewhere, or what I would be doing for a living. I remember when I was 18 or 19 calculating the year I would turn 40, and it was way beyond my comprehension at the time; but now here we are. For better or worse I’ve arrived… and new challenges and paths are beckoning to be explored.

Street Art in the Les Halles neighborhood of Paris

I was speaking to my mother, who reminded me of a memory she had of me when she turned 40. We were in northern Athens, at our then home, in what you would call an “affluent” neighborhood now; but back then, it was in an area no one wanted to live at. I was riding my pink and white bicycle with its training wheels; it was 1982 or ’83 and my mum had just turned 40 that December. I clearly can picture her memory; my mother was slender, as always, with a beautiful smile and a determined gaze, short curly light brown hair and big square glasses. My father good looking and in his late 30’s, a hit of seventies sideburns still donned his face and he wore aviator glasses. A year later we would take our first trip to Paris as a family.

The magic of Paris through my 6 year old eyes, will never match any other trip I’ve taken since. I was in awe. We would visit many times after that, but that first trip was like new world had been revealed. I had never seen such beauty in my life. Glimpses of the Louvre museum before the pyramids were built, the clock of the Muse d’Orsay from up close and the smell of the Parisian air, as we walked through Montmartre and the “dangerous” artistic neighborhoods of the 18th Arrondisment.

I remember still the taste of rich chocolate and french food at a small restaurant in Place Dauphine, now probably long gone. I visit that same little park every time I go to Paris. I sit on a bench; eat a pain au chocolat, and dream of my six year old self walking up the stairs of this larger than life Brasserie with sumptuous deserts lining each step.

Today I celebrate my 40th year, in one of the most poetic, beautiful places in the world, with some of my most treasured memories, and most treasured friends. Cheers, santé, Γεια μας. Onward to this next chapter.

Where, do you remember your most fond childhood memory, and where would you travel to next?


Day 13. Friendship

Post 13 of 27– Friendship

Today I’m in a sour mood because I hear the word friend and friendship being tossed around a lot lately, by people who either are not understanding the parameters of friendship or abuse its meaning. Much like the word love… when overused; it loses its weight, its potency, and its value.

Friendship is a heavy word for me. It encompasses loyalty, commitment, care, sacrifice, love, trust, honesty, and humility. All the ingredients that any real romantic relationship should have minus the sex !  True friends are hard to come by, they are there for you when shit hits the fan, not just to be your fan. They are there for you when you feel dis empowered; not only to show their power. They are there for you when your dreams are bigger then theirs, they don’t look down on your success as their failure. They care for you, even though you are vulnerable and unable to care for yourself. Friendship isn’t a fan club, its not an opportunity for personal advancement or self promotion, its not about dependency. If your friends are only there when they need flattery and sugar coating then they are fair weather friends. We have all seen those.


Acquaintances I have many, but my friends are the trusted guardians of my heart and soul, even more than a lover or a romantic partner. Friends are my family, my rock. Those who’ve been around are there for lifetimes, and even though we may not see each other every day; we speak every day, on the phone or in a letter or in a picture. There is a deep bond that I share with the people I call my friends. Like soil they are cultivated over time. Like flowers they are cared for and appreciated in the good times and the bad. Like the custodians of my deepest secrets, fears and needs; they guide me when I need their counsel. They have proven their staying power and their worth, as I have done for them. Those friends who didn’t believe in me or cherish my friendship to them didn’t remain friends long.

There is a unwritten rule that defines all friendships and I’m fairly certain any fair weather friend would not stand for long against it. A quote by a motivational speaker I heard recently; is apropos to my rant about friendship today. Friendship is a most sacred bond, it’s a promise, it’s a pact, it’s a connection deeper than any of its kind.

So ask yourself:

“If friendship is the only thing you had to offer, who would still be your friend?” T. Shelton  

Day. 9 Hearts Break-

Eyes Wide Shut
Picture by Robert V. (@3rd.night)

Day 9 of 27.

There is something about poetry and spoken word that can’t be expressed in any other way.  This evening I am performing at a gallery, event opening in Brooklyn, and I’m terrified and excited to perform my work. This piece of writing among others is very personal to me. Over the past two years I’ve been doing some open mic performances, and although I’m no stranger to performance and being on stage, spoken word and poetry is something I never had the courage to perform- until now.


This is dedicated to the one I love(d).



No you don’t get to fuck me and say there’s a hundred ways to love me and then disappear.

You don’t get to be “friends” when you don’t trust me and fill me with fear.

You don’t get to share my heart and then then tear it apart.

That’s not art.


I’m not a pretty girl but at least I’m smart

I have fire and desire and I know how to play the part.

You don’t get to be in my movie and have a cameo role

I want a leading man not a stand in.

I’m not a hole


You can’t fuck me when it pleases you.

I told you I’d be there for you and I needed you.

And what did you do?

You got your hand in my pussy and you thought, I’m all for the taking.

but you’re mistaken.

I’m not making this up.

Your times up.


I gave YOU my fire, you gave into MY desire and your face lit up.

That’s what’s up.

But you chose to quash it and wash it away as a casualty of your half assed reality.

Bull shit. I call it and you’re full of it.


You’re emotionally bankrupt and you’re asking for a loan?

I know I Look like a charity but this is moral depravity

I guess you missed my clarity when I told you it was all or nothing

Your legal tender is of no value here.


But since you don’t understand I’m going to tell you once more….

I can’t be seen with a man without a passion for life.

You wanna stay with your half-baked excuses and look for constant muses?


When you know there can only be ONE.

And I’m done…


Check out more and maybe see a live performance tonight Friday March 9th on Facebook live or Instagram

Visit Image Gallery in Brooklyn. (@imagegallery)

Follow for more updates: @thegreekrabbit 


Live performance Clip !

Art and Hustle – Poetry by Eleana S Kouneli 3 – YouTube