Tag: poetry

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
missiles;
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…
forgotten.
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.

​

Let me say This… Revisited

I wrote a poem about 3 years ago, and It’s the first one I ever performed live at an event called First Time Out, in New York at a cool performance/bar space called Pete’s Candy Store.

I was a very nervous, and shaky first time performer back in November 2016, but I took a chance with an art form and a stage that I had never even dreamed I would ever approach, let alone at the “ripe” age of 38.

This piece is close to my heart because I wrote it for someone I deeply care about, who I can now call a dear friend. We went through our ups and downs in life and we ended up floating instead of sinking so I’m dedicating this to my dear friend P. Life has a very strange way of colliding people together who may on the surface seem incongruous.

The more I travel, the more people I collide with. Old friends remain true friends, others fade away, some remain there for a lifetime, through thick and thin, some betray you, some you betray. It’s a never ending cycle of attraction, connection, and sometimes a rare blossoming.

Enjoy.

LET ME SAY THIS

Let me tell you a story about leaving home, about struggling to find a place of your own, Let me tell you about walking miles every day in this crazy city, and asking yourself over and over again is this all there is?

Let me tell you about loving and heartbreak, about standing on your own two feet, about flirtation about opening your heart again about loneliness about doubt and fear, let me tell you about sitting alone at night thinking…

There must be more than life to this.

Let me tell you about rejoicing in knowing you have friends who love you and you love them. Let me tell you about poetry and listening to father analyse over and over the importance of poetry…. because talking about your motherland falling apart isn’t that pleasant.

Let me tell you about mother and how she is my best friend.  Let me tell you about laughter in the middle of the street, till your guts hurt and not caring how loud you are cause that shit was so damn funny!  Let me tell you about sex, and passion, lack of intimacy or truth, let me tell you about excuses and mistreatment and unfulfilled embraces, let me tell you about pain. Let me tell you about not wanting to live again.

“let me tell you about sitting alone at night thinking, there must be more than life to this…”

Let me tell you about falling in love and going out of your mind, let me show you loss and tears. Let me tell you about walking alone, and sleeping alone and crying alone and feeling alone even though your not. Let me tell you about countless early mornings sitting in silence breathing and hoping it will all get better.

Let me tell you about waking up with sun in your eyes and smelling the island breeze and wishing you were here with me, diving deeper and deeper into the deep blue sea.


Let me tell you about missing my home, my people, my sun kissed balcony, the aromas of fresh baked bread from the village bakery

salt on my skin

the sound of hundreds of cicadas

drowning the air with their numbing rhythm. Let me tell you about music and dancing, and embracing friends who are far away, and letting your hair down cause…

that’s what life is all about.

Let me show you what I see, what I hear let me share with you my story, and I want you to tell me yours.

Tell me about you, tell me about your dreams and struggles your life and goals, your fears.
are you sitting up at night thinking is this all there is?

Eat with me, drink with me, laugh with me, cry with me, look into my eyes and see there is nothing more beautiful than sitting in silence and knowing, understanding one another and realizing….

Yes that this is ALL there is.

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Recipe for Disaster-

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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…

Words Matter

Des mots faciles des mots fragiles
C’était trop beau

–Paroles Paroles by Alain Delon and Dalida

Choose your words wisely. 

It’s a matter of principle, it’s a matter of how we see the world and how the world sees us. Even though so much of communication is non verbal; choosing the words we use carefully is of utmost importance. There is an art to knowing what to say and how to say it, and if need be not saying anything at all.

Words matter; they can hurt or they can heal. A lot is revealed by their tone, their phrasing their intent. The more I write, the more I share through both Greek and English; I’m often called upon to sharpen my pencil and my mind. One wrong word and the whole meaning is altered, the whole feel of what is meant to come through is derailed.

Sometimes silence is the only answer.

The words we use for and about others matter. How we describe others, how we talk about them, what energy we share through verbal communication is as sharp and affecting as any weapon. One word can uplift whereas another can dismantle and destroy. How we express ourselves matters; how we speak to others matters, and how we communicate matters, because as words go, lots can be lost in translation.

Words are slippery and deceiving and like little children need guidance and boundaries to thrive and shine on and off the page. Words have weight, they sting and jab, sooth and caress. Each syllable contains an energy; and knowing how to use that energy is as valuable as any amount of currency, because words are also currency.

Even though so much of communication is non verbal; choosing the words we use carefully is of utmost importance.

Recently I had an exchange with an old lover. I was very cautious about how I wanted to respond to his communication. The right words were not appearing to me in order to carefully convey what I wanted to say in response to his contact. I mulled over it for quite some time before I realized that any words I used were a waste of time, energy, and ultimately I would never properly convey verbally what I desperately wanted to say; so I said nothing. Sometimes keeping one’s words to oneself is the wisest choice.

Words matter, words are fragile and delicate and can bend and break after they have been uttered. Words mean nothing; and they mean everything, and sometimes there aren’t enough words to describe a feeling.

So sometimes silence is the only answer.

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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

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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

Ξανά.

***

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.

 

My Achilles Heel (Αχίλλειος Πτέρνα)

Αχίλλειος Πτέρνα (Achilles He(A)el)  — photo by Robert V. (@3rd.night)

 

Reflections of faces getting caught in dark spaces, with wounded hearts.

Secrets revealed in awkward glances and lost chances.

Pursed lips, and stolen glances.

Tired eyes staring into illuminated screens, reflecting, deflecting, rejecting

playing the part in a show that no one cares to watch.

And all I want to do is scream.

***

How do you measure my love and then tear it apart?

I created a love story and it fell short from the start.

It seems clear that my imagination got the best of me

Again.

***

I no longer can settle for three forths of a man.

I can’t stand (on) mediocrity in the face of perfection.

That no longer holds my attention

Any more.

How much of your comfort would you give up for love?

I guess you will never find out.

It’s never too late

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@dirkartnyc (Freeman’s Alley- NYC)

It’s never too late …

The writing is on the wall.

It’s never too late to stand tall after a fall, that broke your spirit, broke your heart. Tearing you apart into a million little pieces.

It’s never too late to make a new start. It’s never too late to create art out of your passion.

Your horizons are open, take a chance, take a stance.

It’s never too late to be strong even though you know it’s wrong, to endure so much pain, and remain true to you.

It’s never too late to let go.

Be.

Here

Now.

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….