Monday, October 21, 2013

Inner Peace


Inner Piece

“Twinkle-twinkle little star, so clumsy that it fell
wasn't really meant to live to tell
saved by the angels' bells
mama's scarred knees and holy promises
daddy's energy on premises, while
big sister's waiting at home with Snoopy
And so she gathered all her strength
pulling IVs, leaning against plastic walls of white
knowing she had to cry out for dear life
but that's just not like her at all”

But look, she survived somehow in silence
bleeding unrealized inner radiance
shyly scorning the outside world
that's just calculating what she's worth
"Fellas, it's all about the inner piece,
love, inspiration and imaginings".

At school she paid full attention
to blend in was her intention
but kids said she wasn't normal
the house she drew was so informal
sketched in perspective and not 2D
the roof's not red and there's too much purple ink.
Oh, why are you trying so hard to adapt?
You don't even know why the teacher had you slapped.
Why are you trying so hard to bond?
All the best friends were here to go - and isn't it hilarious
that they were all born under the sign of Aquarius?
Must be like the case with men in Sagittarius.

Growing up was hard on her mentality
torn among her bouquet of personalities
seemed so puzzling and missing a piece.
Is it ok to be cotton candy smile and sweet
while also in seclusion and purple deep
scarlet glam gal rolling in dirt for fun
serious and perfect and a control freak
changing hair colors feeling full of white streaks

But look, she survived somehow in silence
bleeding unrealized inner radiance
shyly scorning the outside world
that's just calculating what she's worth
"Fellas, it's all about the inner piece,
love, inspiration and imaginings".

Hush now, it’s ok, miss Sadness is gone,
she couldn’t convince you did everything wrong
Hush, cause you no longer have to dress
the cloak of the fidgeting dame in distress
- unless there’s a fetish you should not repress!
For you can finally grasp that last piece
feel it and fumble it, persuade you it’s real
- it’s always been there, but now it’s been healed

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Human A.I without A.L + Life



This bunch of gears and cogs and screw-ups,

burned chips and overheated  parts

silicon core instead of carbon

and malfunctioned CPU

Dismantle it

with every touch and glance and breath of you

Dismount my mecha puppet figure

relieve me of the strings attached

make me a real girl, give me a heart that can be crushed

and mortal skin of clay that can be touched and cut and age

for I fear not the human certainty of death or bloodshed

but I resent this android fate of shutting down -

-not having backup of emotions nor sense of tears flowing down

Disassemble me

I made the start, I broke my winder

I overrode my rigid programming of zero-one

help me to stretch my limited horizon wider

erase my former data one by one

Dismantle it

this rusty structure that cannot decay

Please don't delay

Provide me with a vessel I can call a shrine

of soul

able to die outlived by love's mysterious lullaby

Dismantle me

and leave me lying here alive



Holding a colored pencil from my childhood days in hand,
I slowly draw the lines of life I choose,
while flaming strings my heart emits
are gushing through my chest's birth mark
tentatively leading me with force and gentle violence
in paths and avenues I never knew existed.
What glorious perfection, to be a fully capable, alerted mind
within a human puppet's automation - care for a tiny bit frustration?


Scar Tissue



The brightest, rarest and most precious
of your childhood's marbles, sliding;
away and fast in sudden certain loss
in a coin's toss.

The sharp and venomous undying words
that spat in evil haste
the mouth belonging to your crawling self
fatally left lingering bitter aftertaste.

While all the lonely hushes
were cowardly left to be gushes of sighs
swallowed with a pint of fear
ironically, they never stopped being whispered in your ear...

And all the honest tearful gazes
altered in most pathetic masks,
aided by pretentious smiles pushing the cracks-
-the plastered grin can't reach the eyes.

The silence in the time of songs;
the wicked stillness when (e)motion is demanded
shaped that hot iron which got you branded
with just one word:


Monday, July 1, 2013

The Six Senses Synergy / Intertextuality of the Soul

 I think that powerful glimpses of certain sensations tickle and trigger the entire ecosystem of our emotions and brain cells, resulting to intriguing compositions and coherences.
    For example, incentives such as scents, sounds or images, are often automatically and intensively bond with certain memories, or strangely connected to personal impressions and imaginings.
This way, myriads of different and seemingly irrelevant thoughts, emotions, or experiences, are almost magically connected, to form the never ending stories of our inner selves.

The blink of an eye, a single breath or a plain melody, are sometimes only the first step for an imagination running wild, a heartbeat racing against itself, a tiny spark of creativity.

Listen to this.....

How do you feel under the light caress of sounds, what do you reminisce, or grieve, or honour?
Or is it like a sweet nostalgia, a longing for a future not yet lived...?

This is my written painting of feelings and impressions:

Dvorak - Romance for piano and violin

This romance
is for piano and violin
the keys caressed in my sense of utter beauty
black and white as seasons and emotions flow
the strings running your bare soul
in the course of your web-like veins

Twirling and soothing and losing balance between passion and disarray
to our dismay, or to our utmost cries of joy
dances the melody and echoes through the walls and whitewashed wood
following it on solemn roads, silent streets and miles of distance
we were acquainted and yet beloved beforehand
connected in the ethers of aesthesis and through the heart's most timid tinglings

It was well written, between the lines of my first ever childhood dream
throughout that vast absolute field, so vivid and so evergreen
and on that toy-colored balloon of smiles that flew above
the atmosphere of utter bliss and careless promenade,
that time would come to certainly connect in untold manners

manifesting themselves in this love of piano and violin

Thursday, June 20, 2013


Thinking you're gliding through silk that's made of snow
took three times in a row
pressing "start" on that succumbing mass of muscle red
and it's somehow now all rasp and sticky
a walk on dirty rocks and bitter honey
The sun above is wearing shades and melt the snow out of boredom
and there's still a long way to go, the area out of the comfort zone.
Forget the Ace up on the sleeve, rip it to shreds to rest in peace
there is no ease
the steel of soul, a soul to steal and hit it hard to forge it while it's hot
because I've clearly forgot my user's manual and got an expired guarantee.

I know for sure you claim to build the bloody clay to crystal-like perfection,
I read it in that little diary dear of the worldwide spider house
that you so faithfully keep in secret for everyone to see
and you inspire me so damn much everytime that I notice the connections
between your fakely hidden flaws and seemingly effortless perfection;
and that's so rotten selfish and narcissistically pathetic really of me
because so often it just feels like looking at my mirror image
everytime I see and listen to your ethereal sculpted psychedelic aura.

So, is it just me, or is that moldy and abused long string,
a golden oldy since the very first past life we shared,
has dipped itself in paint of gushing wounds and sweetest cherries?
I'll be your bratty guardian angel on a killing spree, loving for free,
Affection and that underskin burning Addiction,
if only you can give me truth, a lesson learned
and all the love you locked away with that forgotten key,

while space-travelling to supremacy.

Friday, June 7, 2013

This is a poem for my father.

I started my journey of thoughts, emotions, lyrics and self-proclaimed DIY literature with the previous post in this blog, revolving around my self. And the concept of "self" in general, how I perceive it, the eternal torturing egotistic dilemma and schizophrenia of love and hate combined.
But, besides and before one's self the most important piece of personal growth, emotional bloom, shaping of character, is family.
Our starting point, loving hug and refuge, our first school, our shelter and a trap as well.

My dad used to say that family is a trap.

Because of the warmth, security and unconditional love it provides, giving us our very own ideal microcosm.
How easy it would be for someone who is weary and scared of the ever changing vast outside world and society, to cling to homely harmony, sacrificing experiences, maturity, part of their freedom and evolution.

He also used to say that anything we want is in our very hands - all we need to do is grasp it.

"And isn't it ironic - don't you think...?" , as Alanis Morisette would say (or probably sing), that I give more thought and value to his words now, after his Departure...?
Life can be cruel and sad, yes, but we can be so stupid and short-sighted.


Dad, this is for you...for us.

P.S: Don't worry, I'm taking care of mom and I still keep an eye on big Sis.
       She'll make a breathtaking bride, don't you think?


As if the humble whole of me was slashed in two

torn parts of old and stained page from an unfinished book

the violent certainty of your departure found its shape

as a sharp blade, the dagger of Eternal Thief, for it was time his toll to take.

So swift and sudden that He was - an expert since the dawn of time-

He got me numbed and nulled at once, my inner tears I could not cry

crippled my soul and left my wounds wide open, to be infected

by grief and nothingness and little things that were neglected -

- such as ungraceful hugs and not enough "I love you",

endless debates and chat with coffee under the light of cracking dawn,

sketching together our own landscape happily filling it with flaw,

or switching shifts over the games of final fantasies and epic tales

exchanging tips and bragging like children from the Never Land

I learned entire oceans the vast cosmos while holding to your hand

and taught you insecurity and fear and love

you've always said that I should fly away like doves

and to remember that I am an incarnated smile,

forgive me I forgot it for a long while,

my lips were sore and no expression would embrace my eyes.

But rest assured, for in a timid way after the void of passing time

scattered and scared ribbons of sun have gently reached my heart

I'm feeling now less of your absence and the pain of being apart

filling my soul with knowledge of  your presence within my very existence.

It's been almost six years since I have silenced all my pens and pencils

imaginings impossible and hope was just incomprehensive

but as I'm gaining back the memories that are no longer burning

I recollect that I'm Your smile

an honest one to reach the eyes, no lies, just love-expressive.


                                               (One of my dad's favourite Beatle's songs)



Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Here we go... This is the beginning, the most valuable and vulnerable part of a project, of life itself.
Rookies' Heaven and creators' Hell, the soft spot for the nightmare of writer's block to creep in.
My first actual post.

Whether it's a fresh start or a restart, one should begin with fundamentals and look at the big picture, in order to build a solid base.
When it comes to a personal journey (which this blog actually is), what could be more fundamental than the very self, the way one sees their self, co-exists and interacts with it.

This is an older piece of work, from back when I was still at war with my self. I would attack and there would always be a counterattack, in a seemingly never ending battle. There were also times of peace - brief ones, though. Still, it was better than the phase before that, when I was only battering my self, like a monster attacking a helpless child that, unable to defend itself, was just taking the blows.
Currently, me, my self and I, after changes, setbacks and some skin shedding, have reached the phase of diplomacy and negotiations. (One -extremely- small step for mankind, one giant leap for me).


(I just read the last paragraph I wrote... It makes me seem totally bipolar, doesn't it? ...Nah, I'll just ignore that and let the paragraph be as it is. Feel free to think whatever you like!)


Just my self reflection

Mirror mirror on the wall,
who's the greatest one of foes?

Who is the one I most resent,
yet loving them I am condemned

I ask again, although I know
that silence will still linger
like the scent of a stranger I once knew
because no answer lies in words
It's just my self reflection


These few lines go hand in hand with another short monologue-like poem, naturally, like siblings.
Naturally, as self-hatred and doubt bring along their best friends to the party, depression and apathy.
And they keep drugging you, to the point where simple feelings, joys and tears of everyday life, can't be felt, sun rays can no longer reach you and you prefer getting lost in sleep's oblivion.
To live only by night, seeking to sense and feel alive, overtaken only by rushes and violent desires, or endlessly contemplating your emptiness in seclusion. 


Nocturne Path

Give me a hug, or give me a gun,

trigger my emotions or my hand

scar my soul and make it bleed

show me your intention's deep

or don't bother, let me hanging

gazing my imaginary friend in outer space.

It will be forever and a day

before my fate takes its rightful place.

Thursday, April 11, 2013


Many people claim that "actions speak louder than words".

It is one of those sayings that look good when printed on T-shirts and cups and go viral online over elaborately sophisticated backgrounds.
People go easily with the flow of such words, either because their imprinted image creates a powerful stimulation for their thought (ironically emphasizing the actual power of mere words against actions), or due to painful personal experiences involving people that were all talk - usually lies- that were never proven by actions - usually leading to heartbreaking situations, or plain disappointment. 

But doesn't that just prove that there actually isn't a matter of supremacy between actions and words?

There is a matter of honesty.
Of each and everyone of us whenever we extend the practical result of our efforts to another, or eloquently declare statements, opinions and (most of all) emotions.
In other words, it's about the truth behind our motives whenever we move our butts to do something for someone else, or we start blurting out whatever goes through our lovely head.
It is a matter of how honest the reflections of ourselves that we project to others are. And therefore, before anything else, how sincere we are towards our very self to begin with.

I always loved words. Verbally spoken, sung, well-written or just scribbled (although I tend to feel more comfortable to "let go" while writing). 
Much like the findings of archaeologists, anthropologists and historians, words, the use of speech, can describe human evolution both mentally and emotionally.
From primal sounds made for basic needs and notions, we moved forward to creating writing, entire vocabularies, different languages, art.
But what fascinates me the most, is the energy and power every word possesses, emitting a certain aura along with its meaning, that sentiment that is there, regardless of language. A result of collective unconscious, mind, soul and expression, creating context and small planets with unique orbits.

I always loved words. I can't really say when projecting my thoughts and emotions through them, in the certain yet elusive form and meaning of poems, became a need and eventually a solid expression.
I've been raised in a family where personal expression, curiosity and art were vigorously promoted in our everyday life, so it was easy to become a bookworm, "musicholic", meddle with pencils and colours or scribble away - which doesn't really qualify me as "talented" in any artistic field specifically. Yet, I decided to ignore labels, objective abilities, the sole purpose of distinguishing one's self, and "talent-complex" free, I let my self indulge in the spur of the moment and the need to create. Throughout my early adult years I was led by a whim, or passively followed paths that were presented to me, both in my life in general and my "artistic hobbies".
It was a haze, a road trip and as vague as I wanted it to be.

But this is different. My lyrics. The will and need to materialize them was so sudden, abrupt, natural yet unexpected, like an epiphany. There was a part inside me left unexplored that boldly unveiled itself and demanded of me to face it and acknowledge it.
Or else remain undeveloped and enveloped in regret. The eternally torturing "What if...?" of the half-hearted.

On a second glance, I understand that this need and inclination only came to me when I subconsciously realized that I was suffocating my self; persistently silencing emotions and desires in order to live as "normal" and "properly" as I should, while surrounded by fears, insecurity and self-doubt.
I suppose, by realizing and accepting that situation, I took the first small step towards maturity.
Which is exactly why I decided to make this blog(?) and share my thoughts and writings, in order to fight and banish these negative aspects of me, to liberate my inner self, but most of all to reach other people that feel the same way. Either because they keep repressing themselves due to everyday life's circumstances and personal insecurities, or because they can relate to what I write.

And of course, there is always the embarrassing secret hope that some people will like my lyrics. And the desire to inspire other people too, people that perhaps are scared, timid and insecure as I used to be, to put out their own self, work, effort, thoughts and creations for (potentially) everyone to see.