Day 27. A poem for my young self.

A celebration in verse

I wrote a poem to my newborn self. Something of a reflection in time and what I would say to her if she were in my arms today. Here is the English version with a Greek one to follow. I want to thank you all for following my 27 post challenge. I will continue to post interesting and provocative work in the year to come. Join me and feel free to share and comment.



If I were to gaze upon my younger self I would give her the warmest embrace.
Welcome to this crazy world we live in kiddo.
Pleased to meet you amazing girl with the caramel curls and those eyes so green they’re like
a thousand olive trees, swishing in the wind.

If I were to whisper to my young self, I would tell her how much I love every single part of her. Nothing is flawed nothing is tainted, you’re perfect.
You are worth it.
Every single day.

If I were to meet my newborn self I would tell her that she has more strength in her little finger than 10 men combined. You’re a superhero.
Damn girl you gonna take over the world.
And then I would twirl with her in my arms till she giggled a little.

If I were to speak to my newborn self I would say to her: never doubt your heart and mind.
You are one of kind. A diamond in the rough, so tough
Yet soft and delicate like a spring flower.
You won’t cower to the ones telling you what and how to be.
No way no how.
You will fight like an amazon and honor your tribe.
Your tribe is your people, your friends, your lovers your mother and father.
Some will betray you and lose your trust but never let your heart get tough.
Be soft with those who don’t get it and don’t let it steal your compassion and passion for life.
There will be strife.

People will want to hurt you because they can’t love themselves.
But remember you are my star in the sky.
I look at you for wisdom because you don’t let anyone break your stride.
You are fiiiiine sister, don’t let anyone get outta line.
I worship the ground you tread on, because you’re in my head telling me what is right and what is wrong.
You don’t falter. You know damn well where you want to go.
Don’t let go of your dreams sister.
Don’t let go of your innocence your laughter.

No one can come after that.
Like a drop of a hat.
I fell for you.
Those dimples they cripple me as I stare at your infinite beauty.

Beautiful girl with the caramel curls and eyes so green thy’re like a field of olive trees
Swishing in the wind.

Αν θα μπορούσα να αντικρίσω τον νεογέννητο μου εαυτό.
Θα με αγκάλιαζα με τόση αγάπη που θα με νιώθω ακόμα και όταν δεν είμαι εκεί
Αν θα μπορούσα να ψιθυρίσω στο νεογέννητο μου εαυτό.
Θα έλεγα: θα σε αγαπήσω όσο κανείς άλλος στο κόσμο.
Αν θα μπορούσα να συναντήσω το νεογέννητο κορίτσι που είμαι, εγώ
Θα της έδειχνα πόση δύναμη έχει στο μικρό της δαχτυλάκι
Θα της έλεγα πόσο αντέχει στις δυσκολίες και στο πόνο όσο κανένας άλλος εδώ
Όχι δε θα της έλεγα ψέματα.
Δε θα της έλυνα όλα τα θέματα
Είσαι πιό δυνατή από αυτό.

Αν θα μπορούσα να μιλήσω στο νεογέννητο μου εαυτό
Θα της έλεγα…

Είσαι υπέροχη έτσι όπως είσαι
Θα ξαφνιάσεις πολλούς και δεν θα μπορέσουν να σε κατανοήσουν.
Μα μη πτοείσαι.
Δεν είσαι για τους λιποψυχους εσύ  
Με τη μπούκλα τη ξανθιά θα αφήνεις ανέμελα τα μαλλιά σου να ανεμίζουν
Όσο ατενίζεις ενδιαφέρουσες πόλεις και προορισμούς.
Για φαντάσου!
Θα ταξιδέψεις, θα ονειρευτείς θα αγαπήσεις
Αλλά θα τη πατήσεις

Γιατί θα ξεχασεις πόσο μοναδική είσαι.
Αλλά θα είμαι εκεί να στο ξαναθυμίσω
Θα σβήσεις από μέσα σου κάθε οργή και θλίψη και
Θα ξανα αγαπήσεις.

Χωρίς ποιήματα κορίτσι δεν έχει ενδιαφέρον η ζωή
Πέσε με τα μούτρα στον έρωτα
Πέσε με τα μούτρα στην ηδονή
Διάβασε τα πάντα

Αγάπησε τους πάντες και ας μη σου δίνουν τίποτα για αντάλλαγμα
Δε χρειάζεται συνάλλαγμα συναισθημάτων εσύ

Δείξε υπομονή στους κόλακες και στους φτωχούς της ψυχής
Δε ξέρουν από μας.
Αλλά δε πειράζει.

Και ο πιό κακός αλλάζει χαρτί.
Γιατί το φως είναι πιο δυνατό από το σκοτάδι.

Και θα σου έδινα ένα χάδι στο μάγουλο με τη μικρή ελίτσα στο στόμα
Αυτή πού είχες από μικρή
Πού κάπου αχνοφαίνεται ακόμα.

Και θα με κοιτάξεις με αυτά τα υπέροχα πράσινα μάτια
Και θα σε ερωτευτώ.

Με τη μπούκλα καραμέλα και τα μάτια πράσινα σα χιλιάδες δέντρα ελιάς.
Μονομιάς σε αγάπησα χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη.

Day 21. Explorations in Verse Poetry/ English

For the love of the rhyme.

It started in November 2016. I had been writing ever since I could remember but the poems started flooding my pages, after moving to New York in early 2013. I suppose it’s true what they say, suffering and pain makes for great material for poetry. I have been working on some new material recently, some of it very raw some of it more groomed and precise, and all of it deeply personal. I’m inspired by poetry that comes from a troubled mind and heart. I’m enthralled by poetry that dives into the deeply profound, erotic and painful of life. I love irony. I’ts the perfect glue to the mundane and the banal. So here are some of my recent explorations in verse:

#2  Pencil on a train to Queens: 

Hustlers and peddlers of goods.
Bull shit artists with a flair for the delicately.
Masters of the insane.

But you got nothing to show.
I know I’m a good girl
But this is systemic fraudulence and in poor taste.
Make haste.

Life is not waiting around for you to decide what’s right.
You have to ride the train like the rest of us fools.
we have the tools to do greater than scoff at injustice

just because it makes a funny meme.
we’ve lost touch with reality it seems.
How real does the pain get?
Let’s take a bet.

Your life and your pain remain
a stain
an awful memory
an broken legacy
People screaming, oh you’re too PC.
What does it take for me to care?

Calling basic humanity a certain insanity

is what’s plagued us all our lives.
And yet Basic humanity is a rarity in these troubled times.
The tides come and go

our mere existence is erased by the distance of time.
No wonder your love is anemic.
Your abuse systemic
Your lies complete.

I drink my whiskey neat.
No ice
There is no time for diluted flavors.
Do me a favor and pass the lime.
It’s almost time.

The End Game

Sometimes I lay down and wonder

what it would be like to be your wife...
Fuck no.
I’m thinking thank the universal beings and celestial forces

you are as far away from me
as possible.
Undoubtedly so.
You did me a favor
With your razor sharp wit.
I must admit, I thought you were hot shit.
But then the reality hit SMACK DAB in the center of your fantasy

of me.
You see?
God is in the details they say and you’re just murky
Trust me.
It’s apparent.
I gave you consent over my body,
not my mind.
You played that one of a kind
pimp game.
The lie folded into half truths and lead me to assume
that you loved me.
It was all above me like a noose.
I get goosebumps.

I think of the shit I would have done to lower myself to your level
It’s undeniable how unreliable
The pussy is compared to the gut.
And in you strut,
like a homing device for my weakness my vice.
You slice with precision like a surgeon

my heart is a cavernous hole.
But then you underestimate my soul.
And here I am Whole.
Compete without distinction or defeat.
I spit at your feet.
Don’t deplete my space
I have erased you from my memory.
click — delete
complete without distinction or defeat.

Day 21. Words and Poems in Greek.

Celebrating world Poetry Day with words that inspire and words of desire.

Poetry for me has always been about addressing and expressing the deepest confines of the soul. I write a lot, but when poems form in my mind, it’s like someone else is speaking the words to me and my hand serves as a conduit.

I often go back and edit but for the most part the poems stand as they are untouched and delivered as they first came to me. Playing with words and playing with meaning has always been a mental exercise for me ever since I could learn how to write. I can’t however call myself a poet. That title is still reserved for the greats and I’m sure in 10-15 years I can possibly aspire to adopt that title. Till then here are two poems (one mine – one not) that continue to inspire me as I continue to write and dive deeper into the art of poetry.

Athens, 1984

Εκτροχιασμός- Σημείο Αναφοράς

Τι κάνεις;;

Είμαι καλά. Καθαρός ουρανός αστραπές δε φοβάται.


Πήρα να σου πω, ποσό νοσταλγώ την αίσθηση ελευθερίας που είχα όταν ήμουν εδώ.

ΕΚΕΙ ήθελα να πω.

Μη παρεξηγηθείς δε σου τη πέφτω.


Πάω να τη πέσω.

Έστω, ν’ακούσω τη φωνή σου.

Ντύσου! Πρέπει να φύγεις δε γίνεται να μείνεις εδώ!

Θα σε βρω εγώ.

Μη πεις τίποτα σε κανέναν, ακούς!;



Και σηκώνω το βλέμμα μου από τη σελίδα,

στο καλύτερο μ’έκοψες πάλι.

Παραζάλη με πιάνει κάθε φορά που με κοιτάς κατάματα.


Πες μου, ξεστόμισα αργά.

Σα σλόου μότιον τα χείλη σου ήρθαν κοντά.

Ανέπνευσα εκεί.


Μαλάκα σε ερωτεύτηκα.


Πως τη πατάω έτσι κάθε φορά;

Με τυλίγει το παραμύθι όπως παλιά

που πίστευα στο πρίγκιπα τον μασκαρά.

που νόμιζα ότι η αγάπη ήταν για πάντα.


Τα όνειρα πια.


Τα λάθη που κάνουμε για την ιδέα και μόνο του,


Below is a poem from one of my favorite Greek poets and who I’m re-reading as of late:
— Τάσος Λειβαδίτης – Unfortunately I’ve not found a good enough translation into English, so I took a stab at it myself: (English translation of first verse)

Αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος

Αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος
δεν θα πάψεις ούτε στιγμή ν΄αγωνίζεσαι για την ειρήνη και
για το δίκαιο.
Θα βγείς στους δρόμους, θα φωνάξεις, τα χείλια σου θα
ματώσουν απ΄τις φωνές
το πρόσωπό σου θα ματώσει από τις σφαίρες – μα ούτε βήμα πίσω.
Κάθε κραυγή σου μια πετριά στα τζάμια των πολεμοκάπηλων
Κάθε χειρονομία σου σα να γκρεμίζει την αδικία.
Και πρόσεξε: μη ξεχαστείς ούτε στιγμή.
Έτσι λίγο να θυμηθείς τα παιδικά σου χρόνια
αφήνεις χιλιάδες παιδιά να κομματιάζονται την ώρα που παίζουν ανύποπτα στις
μια στιγμή αν κοιτάξεις το ηλιοβασίλεμα
αύριο οι άνθρωποι θα χάνουνται στη νύχτα του πολέμου
έτσι και σταματήσεις μια στιγμή να ονειρευτείς
εκατομμύρια ανθρώπινα όνειρα θα γίνουν στάχτη κάτω από τις οβίδες.
Δεν έχεις καιρό
δεν έχεις καιρό για τον εαυτό σου
αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος.

English Translation:

If you want to be called human

You will not cease even for a second to fight for peace and justice.

You will turn to the streets, you will scream, your lips will

bleed from screaming

Your face will bleed from the bullets- but not a step back

Every scream is a rock to the glass of the war mongers

Every hand gesture will destroy injustice

And be cautious: don’t ever forget.

And as you slightly  recall your childhood

You leave thousands of children to be butchered while they blithely play in the


Just for second you look at the sunset

Tomorrow men will be lost in the darkness of war

If you stop even for a second to dream

Millions of human dreams will turn to dust under bombshells

You don’t have time

You don’t have time for yourself

If you want to be called human.

Αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος
μπορεί να χρειαστεί ν΄αφήσεις τη μάνα σου, την αγαπημένη
ή το παιδί σου.
Δε θα διστάσεις.
Θ΄απαρνηθείς τη λάμπα σου και το ψωμί σου
Θ΄απαρνηθείς τη βραδινή ξεκούραση στο σπιτικό κατώφλι
για τον τραχύ δρόμο που πάει στο αύριο.
Μπροστά σε τίποτα δε θα δειλιάσεις κι ούτε θα φοβηθείς.
Το ξέρω, είναι όμορφο ν΄ακούς μια φυσαρμόνικα το βράδυ,
να κοιτάς έν΄ άστρο, να ονειρεύεσαι
είναι όμορφο σκυμένος πάνω απ΄το κόκκινο στόμα της αγάπης σου
Να την ακούς να σου λέει τα όνειρα της για το μέλλον.
Μα εσύ πρέπει να τ΄αποχαιρετήσεις όλ΄αυτά και να ξεκινήσεις
γιατί εσύ είσαι υπεύθυνος για όλες τις φυσαρμόνικες του κόσμου,
για όλα τ΄άστρα, για όλες τις λάμπες και
για όλα τα όνειρα
αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος.

Αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος
μπορεί να χρειαστεί να σε κλείσουν φυλακή για είκοσι ή
και περισσότερα χρόνια
μα εσύ και μες στη φυλακή θα θυμάσαι πάντοτε την άνοιξη,
τη μάνα σου και τον κόσμο.
Εσύ και μες απ΄ το τετραγωνικό μέτρο του κελλιού σου
θα συνεχίσεις τον δρόμο σου πάνω στη γη .
Κι΄ όταν μες στην απέραντη σιωπή, τη νύχτα
θα χτυπάς τον τοίχο του κελλιού σου με το δάχτυλο
απ΄τ΄άλλο μέρος του τοίχου θα σου απαντάει η Ισπανία.
Εσύ, κι ας βλέπεις να περνάν τα χρόνια σου και ν΄ ασπρίζουν
τα μαλλιά σου
δε θα γερνάς.
Εσύ και μες στη φυλακή κάθε πρωί θα ξημερώνεσαι πιο νέος
Αφού όλο και νέοι αγώνες θ΄ αρχίζουνε στον κόσμο
αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος

Αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος
θα πρέπει να μπορείς να πεθάνεις ένα οποιοδήποτε πρωινό.
Αποβραδίς στην απομόνωση θα γράψεις ένα μεγάλο τρυφερό
γράμμα στη μάνα σου
Θα γράψεις στον τοίχο την ημερομηνία, τ΄αρχικά του ονόματος σου και μια λέξη :
σα ναγραφες όλη την ιστορία της ζωής σου.
Να μπορείς να πεθάνεις ένα οποιοδήποτε πρωινό
να μπορείς να σταθείς μπροστά στα έξη ντουφέκια
σα να στεκόσουνα μπροστά σ΄ολάκαιρο το μέλλον.
Να μπορείς, απάνω απ΄την ομοβροντία που σε σκοτώνει
εσύ ν΄ακούς τα εκατομμύρια των απλών ανθρώπων που
τραγουδώντας πολεμάνε για την ειρήνη.
Αν θέλεις να λέγεσαι άνθρωπος.

Day 11. East Harlem

East Harlem…Day.

I stand dazed at the history this colony has written.

I’m smitten.

Forgiven for my sins here.

No one knows my pain here.

No one knows my name here.

Standing on the corner where it all began.

Uncle Sam, you have no idea how powerful we are. We built these streets with our songs. Tagged walls. Signature of a people. Stolen dreams, revealed in a spray can.

Uncle Sam…. Look up, the writing is on the wall.

We stand tall.

We were part of the master plan.

East Harlem.

Nights.Beats, rhythms Taino towers.

Strange powers.

We. Thousands of souls blended together.

Birds of a feather.

Walk down the block, cross the bridge and it’s another world.

Where you come from is in your eyes.

Uncle Sam. This is my clan.

People from all walks of life.

We were born in different places, we have difference faces, but ended all up in here on this Island of dreams.

Trying, fighting, aspiring, conspiring to make it big.

I can’t do this!

This is some pipe dream.

I can’t even fight clean.

I’m running out of steam.

There is no remedy.

My fantasies colliding with this harsh reality, like I’m a on a beam.




Get up again.

Stand tall.



Day 8. Her eyes- A poem

Celebrate the uncompromising women in your life.

Her Eyes

Still alive despite her fight to survive. Her defiance her drive. Alive. Her hope. She thrives. She defies the odds, she denies her supposed circumstances, her lost chances, her “fate”. You can’t deny her fire. Her desire. In spite…ofitall. She’s not too late, she will turn her life around. Rebound. Fly. Dribble through the rubble of her life. The strife. Destiny drives her still… despite her current situation.Pay attention to the spark in her… eyes. They are still alive. Despite her fight to survive. Her defiance her drive. She’s on fire.

Happy International Women’s Day!

My confession

Photo : Zafeiris Haitidis • filmmaker

I have a confession to make

I know it’s probably late over there in your side of the universe

but I can’t let another century go by…

before I say what’s on my mind

You are my guy.

The man I know will see me at my weakest and still lift me up.

You fill my cup.

You are my rock, when I’m stuck in my own muck;

and even though you don’t know it,

I’ll probably won’t ever show it.

I love you.

I’m always there by your side when you need me.

I know it’s not easy

It’s a lot to take in.

These words coming out of me like thunder and lightning in a storm,

but I could not hold back any more

I Love you.

I dream of your happiness and I rejoice in your voice.

No no this isn’t about just that.

Even though you’re in my frequent fantasies.


You are a king, dressed in paupers clothing.

Pretending till you get your chance to shine.

You’re not just mine.

I would not want that for you.

You are a free spirit capable of greatness but I must confess you short changed yourself.

Put your heart up on a shelf, and forget to love yourself first.

You have that thirst for self-destruction … combustion… obstruction of…


You invite others to step over your might, just because you’re fed up with being first in a sea of moderation.

So you might as well fuck it all up.

You gave up.

If I had a dime for every time I wanted to shake you and make you see how wonderful you are to me.

Don’t you see?

I love you.

The courage to live life

Street art in Athens, Greece

we live in this endless dystopia… we’ve been groomed again and again to endure crisis after crisis after crisis and with that; have forgotten the joy of life.

We live in strife

And we never pause to enjoy life

It’s little hidden beauties it’s endless flirtation it’s burning desire.

Το μεδούλι we say.

we let others dictate… our inspiration our connections our determination. Yet after all that, we find courage to live life, fall in love, write beautiful music, build incredible buildings, carve beautiful statues, build incredible grand ships that take us from sea to sea, and discover our limits anew each time becoming better versions of ourselves.

we delve deep into beauty and reap the benefits of true joy.

Each boy and girl each female and male becoming, growing, revealing their most true selves.

It’s no mystery we are all made of stars….

Yet we bicker and fight and cause strife. Spending lifetimes hating each other.

Demeaning each other

what a waste….

To not want to taste life’s bounties.

To not want to share in its boundless beauty.

Our curiosity for self destruction is a unique human trait, but so is survival.

And faith.

No not religious kind, but true faith, in ourselves in each other. No no we’re not the only ones but were unique, no we’re not one of a kind but we have been given infinite possibilities…

To be






without fear of reciprocity…

We’ve suffered enough atrocities

So next time you’ve let your spirit fade




run till you can’t breathe.

Find joy in the simplicity of life.


I am mesmerized….
The moment when our eyes meet mine..
that sublime snippet of time in me.
I’ts unattainable in a lab setting
You can’t repeat this shit
It’s one of a kind.
A rare find.
that sublime snippet of time.
with me…
Keep in mind I’m not an expert in explosions
I just walked passed my life
avoiding mines.
Each time I gaze upon your face, your embrace your lips locking on mine,
It stops time.
Good and Bad intertwined.
Your voice resonates on my skin like aftershocks after an earthquake
It’s a lot to take
I don’t even know you and you make me feel like a queen.
I’m not good with roles.
This delicious assent to power from a delicate flower.
From a “nice girl” into a dirty mind one of a kind..
I’ll do anything for…you
You will adore me kind of girl
Let it all unfurl develop, envelop, uncurl girl … from this protective bubble of  life.
Where it’s all safe and put together
Let it fall apart and rebuilt once more…
In this brief snippet of time.
We are mesmerized.

Photo by Robert Valenzuela

Athens- Heroic City


My sister my mother, my friend.

She’s a wife not a girlfriend.

She a heroine…

She’s my heroin.

She’s my muse

Don’t confuse my love for her it’s unending.

Bending all the rules for her

She’s my soul sister.

She’s my soul forever more.

and despite her plight, shes mighty and strong.


She will overcome.


I walked through your streets

Like a little girl, reborn.

My heart is worn, for my love for you 

Because you’re alone in the battle of existence.

Lost in pretense.

You’re not a whore. 


Your suitors, full of tenacity 

pursued you over and over again,

Leaving you wanting for so much more.

But who’s giving a fuck about you now?


Your lowered tired brow. 

That somehow, still shines through these dark times.

I take a bow to you oh wise Athena.

You are divine, despite your hardships.

You will survive and shine.

Oh sweet city of mine. 




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.