The Painting (The Lie)....

I was never in love with you....
I was in love with the picture
We painted with our imaginations
You were just the embodiment of the dream
THE dream.
The promise, always too good to be true
I hold you, it, us still
In my heart
With nothing now but
Contempt
You were much better in my head
Than in my heart.

Forever (just a message in) Autumn....

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=4BwSlxYWGUI

My life will be forever autumn....

Greek women are strange....

Valerius Maximus included the story of Hippo in his Facta et dicta memorabilia as a foreign example of chastity to complement the Roman stories he has previously related. He stated that when Hippo was abducted by an enemy fleet, she decided to save her chastity at the cost of her life, and threw herself into the sea to her death. Her body was washed up on the shore of Erythrae. According to Valerius Maximus, a tomb was built for her which survived in his own day, and her glorious reputation had endured among the Greeks.

Pavement....

A million sparkling stars at our feet

determine the path we must complete

One way, the only way

Destination, clear

Without any fear

We travel hand in hand

Towards that which we desire

Fulfilment is nigh

No further need for wire

We journey as one, at peace

With who we are

Cracks paved over with ease

No matter how far

How deep our love

Deliverance, near

Rewards so dear

We experience, touch upon touch

Learn who we are, together

If ever our way is impeded

We will overcome, and endeavour

We journey as one joining hands

Feeling hearts

For the pavement we walk

Never divides, never parts.

Time....

What is time
without a second thought?
What is thought
without a minute's silence?
What is silence
without an hour's rest?
What is rest
if there is no time?

Tide....

Wait....

and you will see

The beauty embodied

a million designs untold

Unread

Each unique to me

Wait....

and you will be

Content to receive

the most precious gift

of mine, of all

Consummation

the key.

Wire....

These fluid dreams fill my heart with purescence

Pulse through my veins, coerce the very fabric of life

Wash over me

Tell.... and i listen to your breath

The wild saline waters flood my words - i cannot

Express

I am wired

Tied

You surround me

Tide

You clothe me

Tired

You cradle me

You come twice

The first to confide and devour

The second to confer and cleanse

You leave twice

The first to muse.... to reason

The second only to return.

Untitled....

I live beneath you.

My tendrils bore the dark earth

you walk upon.

They seize your ankles,

girdle your thighs.

Consume your body.

You, powerless,

do not struggle but

accept your repulse.

A thousand monsterous screams

fill your mind and....

you hear nothing.

Not even the obdurate rain

descending from your naked flesh,

seeping into my sodden wormworld

below.

Without fear

your essence asserts my seat.

My host fails to repel

your insistent (welcome)

presence.

Your spirit exacts mine.

You comfort my world

with ease.

In your completeness

i receive you.

Andrew....

I am sorry i never went fishing with you now.

Even though i don't condone this type of animal usage.

I would have liked to have just sat, and discussed life as it passed us by. While life was still available to you.

It is, indeed, a precious thing.

Deepest condolences to Debs and the girls....

At what point is too far?

I haven't said enough
I've said too much
Encouraged to be myself
(never been me before)
Now i am
I am
Not enough
I am
Too much
Refocus
Rethink
Are you still
THERE?

O.M.D....

Sometimes your love blinds me
Temporarily you dissolve
Only to resolve ever more clear, pure.
In a cloudless night sky
Your rose is proud, insistent
Gilt-edged petals, luminous
Frame the depth of amity
Blood-red amour
Solace in warmth
My hand surrounds yours
Your hand coheres with mine
The thorns transfix our mortality
As we read through insidious eyes
Inciting what is ours
I am inside you
You possess me.

Picnic on Daisy Mountain....

Take me to your place my dear

It is where i want to be

Show me all the wonderous sights

Show me all there is to see

Let me hear you laugh my sweet

It is the sound i long to hear

The music in the mountain breeze

Your warm breath in my ear

Surrender to me your body my love

And i will search within your soul

May our spirits be entwined as one

And make love, be our goal

Entrust me with your gift so precious

Yield to what you believe

Present our senses with enjoyment

And with devotion, we'll conceive

Give me the scent of daisies honey

Give yourself all to me

And i will give to you, my life

All you desire, with my key.

(Photo by Thincat)

Interview with a Worm....

Q. From that low down, dear worm, how do you know where you are?
A. From this low down, i see everything above me.
Q. How do you know what direction to travel in?
A. The sun guides me through the day, the stars at night.
Q. Do you have a destination?
A. My destination? To be where i am.... and to wait for the rain which, hopefully, won't drown me.

Jealousy....

"Jealousy is defined as a protective reaction to a perceived threat to a valued relationship, arising from a situation in which the partner's involvement with an activity and/or another person is contrary to the jealous person's definition of their relationship." (Bevan, 2004, page 195)

Jealousy....

Incisions bleed releasing the fight

Cognitive wishes levelling the light

Inglorious fears perpetuate past

Nihilism forever, annihilate last

Untold dangers, perceived privation

Suppress disquiet, cultivate elation.

Our Dance....

Our Dance....

Is the sun through silver curtains

The warmth in our minds

And the harmony of the music

Seeing the light

Feeling the glow

And learning the sound

It is clarity

It is contentment

It is listening (to love)

The Dance of Devotion

Photo: Andrew Balet

Lake Neochori....

ΛΙΜΝΗ - ΝΕΟΧΩΡΙ
(Η θέση των μαργαριτών)

ό, τι δίνουμε λαμβανόμαστε

ό, τι παίρνουμε κλεβόμαστε

σας δίνω τη ζωή μου

θα πάρετε,

ή θα κλέψετε?

Muse....

Μούσα

είστε ο αναγνώστης
είμαι το βιβλίο
είμαι κάθε λέξη
είμαι ο ζωγράφος
είστε η ζωγραφική
είστε κάθε σημάδι βουρτσών

είμαστε η μουσική
κάθε σημείωση

Ditto....

And when you reveal yourself (to me)
What will i do with you?
Will you give me then, the right to abuse you,
Traduce you, take advantage of your love?
Yes, you will give me this right!
What will i present you in return?
How will i repay you?
I will allow you to violate me,
Deceive me and betray me?
Why hold something so precious,
So tense?
There is no need
As the ache will surely let us fall
I choose to wait for your hand
To encompass me, to hold me
Comfort me
And one day you will find yourself
In my open hand
Disburdened of fear
You won't know how you got there
But you will want to remain there
For where you want to be........
Ditto.

Have we met before....?

That one, warm day

Hazy.... heady

Scent of pleasured grass

Amongst daisies and others

We were alone, complete

Feeling that warmth

Happiness

Grounded in your eyes

Lost in your smile

You smiled at me

With me

Why did you leave before the chain was finished

Before i could give you my gift?

Did we have to wait a lifetime

Until next June?

One way, or another

I found you.... You found me

Chance? Accident? Luck? Fate?

There is little chance of two individuals finding one another in such a dense division

Accidents require certain factors to occur which were never present

What of luck? Why weren't we blessed with this prodigious prize before? Long before

Which leaves us with fate! A complex concept to accept

So, what if we just allow ourselves?

Embrace this faith, accept that, one way or another we breathe the same atmosphere.

I subsist in you as you do in me.... and enjoy.

Meeting the Publisher....

Mr. Barrie (B:) - Writer
Mr. Travorsky (T:) - Publisher
Secretary (S:) - Secretary
Guest (G:) - Guest

S: Mr. Travorsky, there is a Mr. Barrie here to see you.
T: ........ Yes.... er.... send him in.
S: You sound a bit rough sir, i do hope you are not getting the flu........ Mr. Travorsky will see you now, please enter.
*Mr. Barrie enters the plush office-come-second, third or fourth home. He sees a rather 'young' man standing, staring out of the panoramic windows*
B: Mr. Travorsky?
T: Er.... n.... yes........ Take a seat.... er....
B: Mr. Barrie.... I have an appointment!
T: Appointment, yes, of course........ You're late!
B: Actually I'm...
*Mr. Barrie is rudely interrupted by Mr. Travorsky*
T: Sit.... Sit........ and I'll sit too. On my er.... lovely, comfortable chair here!
*The two men sit, contemplating one another suspiciously*
T: So what are we here for Mr. Br.... Bo....
B: Barrie.... as in J. M. Barrie.
T: Jamboree?! Ha, ha, ha.... Jamboree.
B: My book 'Sweet Potatoes'.... You wanted to....
*Mr. Travorsky interrupts again*
T: Ah, yes, let me just get it up on the screen.
*Mr. Travorsky taps the keyboard in front of him in a nonchalant manner. A recipe for 'Green Spaghetti' appears on the screen which is out of Mr. Barrie's eye line*
T: I've read better Mr. Boree.... I've read worse too! I remember a story about a goldfish and an egg, ha ha ha.... Er, yes.... er....
B: You don't like it?
T: It's not that i don't like it........ It's the book-buying public.... They won't like it! They won't get it! A story about potatoes?!
B: It's about chocolate.... and the demise of the human race!
T: No-one ever died eating chocolate Mr. Boree. You're wasting your time.
B: Then i am sorry for wasting your time Mr. Travorsky, very sorry indeed.
*Mr. Barrie, reluctantly leaves the office, glancing back to see Mr. Travorsky spinning round on his luxurious, swivel chair. Mr. Travorsky enters his office from the adjoining bathroom*
T: Who was that you were talking to Greaves?
G: No-one sir.... Just talking to myself.... no-one special.
T: I have a Mr. Barrie coming to see me shortly, in fact he's a bit late! I didn't think he was the type to be late! Oh well, he is a very rare, raw talent. I'd like you to sit in on this meeting Greaves, you could learn a lot from him. In the meantime could you arrange some tea and biscuits please.

El Condor Pasa - Simon & Garfunkel

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=T6i8HHrz2BI
Everything i am feeling today.... all that is given.

Secrets....

Candle, candle burning bright
To you, i give my secret tonight
No-one shall hear
No-one shall see
Just the candle, flame and me
This brings no harm
So mote it be.

Candleburning - Matthew Bowden www.digitallyrefreshing

Perfume....

Perfume, Pathe (UK)

A fondant kiss on sugary, honeyed lips

The melodius harmony, your oderous scent

With mild charm and delight

I gratefully taste you, pleasure you

Breathing, your nectarous candy

Mellow, balmy, fragrant and pure

My luscious, fair lady

How beautifully dulcet

Agreeable to me

So pleasant the attraction, soft

In serenity i engage you

Gentle and cloying

Enjoy the affection

The mellifluous sound

Music of love

A clean, fresh tune

The redolence of silver-toned

Spiced sweetness.

Evael.... enola em.... (Κασσάνδρα)....

Curseus anolonta en evael pre tersa

et naeu contista var raira va versia

Pre luani vou fasicur em oni et marcis

et tasia va evael vou fau et corravis

Aeni oni var versius yatista

eclasi ta naeu contiste-enola.

Leave me alone....

You will never know.... me.

Underneath, i am afraid, you

are just like me.

You will never know this.... or yourself.

Stone....

Seek, and i shall find.... myself

Under a stone with faded ladybug wings

Secreted behind a veiled face

Every way, every direction

Rain bowed colours, merely distractions from

Distracting from....

Complexion

Holding on to slippery grasses

Mired in sluggish trails

Easily avoided but....

Oh, the temptation

It will arise again?

A nice, kind (of) anxiety

Foolishly endured

Dry ground but, an absent step

Away.... a leap too far?

A futile faith

Hope in the eyes of ages

Every age, ever present....

Past

Has been passed

By, and now?

Receiving hands weak, procures

Wearily entrusts, once more

Just once?

Draw on those wings for they will not fly

Don the shroud and sojourn labyrinth

Possess the disguise of vivacity

Dwell

Beneath the graved stone.

Ugly....

I'm a sycophant.

I'm a stranger.

Why am i here?

I don't conform here

and i wish i was appropriate.

Pain....

Pain is part of the body's defence system, triggering mental and physical behavior to end the painful experience. It promotes learning so that repetition of the painful situation will be less likely.

Despite its unpleasantness, pain is an important part of the existence of humans and other animals; in fact, it is vital to healthy survival. Pain encourages an organism to disengage from the noxious stimulus associated with the pain.

An unpleasant feeling, sensation, or emotion....

Redemption.... i will not question. That comes from you.
Pain is a good indication of existence.... and of feeling. Without pain we know no comfort. Everything you are, is all you have been. Would you want to be anyone else??
You expect to feel pain, you will make others feel too. It is human, it is real. It is necessary??
The past cannot be repaired.... but we learn from it. There is no need to bring your suffering with you in every circumstance, to everyone you meet??
We are here now, new to one another, not knowing.... not needing to know....
You are the only person, the only body, you have. One life.... your own. Do with it what you will.

Together....

If you are with someone, you can be described as being together. Being together, with someone, makes your existence real....
If something is real, it stands for the truth. To be true is to feel.
If you feel someone, really 'feel' them, you touch them. Touch their mind, body, heart and soul.... It doesn't get more real than this. Therefore you must truly exist....

Origins....

THE WHITE DRAGON SHALL RISE AGAIN....

No Stars in the Night....

Life is but an entrapment my friend. How beautifully presented, what promise.... It is both given and taken in one breath, in one spoken word. Is your life your own, to do with as you please, is it yours to live, to enjoy, to fulfil or to end? Oh, it is appreciated. The work of an artist, the words of a writer. The inspiration to take part to enrich the gift? To belong and be a part of.... to be accepted and appreciated. An ideal. Extinguished, the flame of hope and you my friend.... Where are you? Did you share this life with me? A promise so dear. And it is broken....

The Wrong Day....

One Sunday, recently....
I cried, my heart.... Echoed around the world, those hungry, lonely and lost. What was my pain to theirs? I could not eat, i had no friend and i didn't have direction....
What, indeed, was my suffering on that one day, compared to a lifetime of Sundays? Do they have more hope than i? I cut and burned this pathetic life to see if it would end, and did it? Did i lose? Loss is lost only if it was gained. Nothing was gained, nothing real.... just the echoes in a shallow pond. A dazzling, plastic wrapper containing nothing but, sourness. The situation, fruitless. An unripe apple is no use, will not feed the hungry. There is no point feeding the hungry if you cannot eat yourself. What does friendship mean if your stomach is empty? Friendship may fill a cried out heart? Is this where you need your friend to be? To share your pain? I would not share these feelings with the world. The world has its own problems, i will not burden. I will eat, make a friend and find myself once more.... on a sun filled day.

Marbles....

Incomplete.
Untied.... uncertain stories with faceless tales.

Never a stone placed so distant.

Remains the pieces, remains the same.

Owned by none, no maker or mason

just the bureaucracy of a selfish nation.

A historical text out of context....

Take them home to where they belong.

The purpose they serve

forgotten.

A moment in time, frozen.

Letter to Lucretia....

Letter to Lucretia....
You won't like me now........ or what i have become. I am still an artist, however, i do not paint any more. A true artist will struggle in life and it is his job to resent the inferior copiers, producers of commercial kitsch. I will not give any more. I refuse to legate my talent to a fat cat which will only make them fatter. She who owns a tower block shaped like a fruit press will not own me or mine. She who squeezes the block's occupants dry. No, she will not benefit from my work. She will not enjoy the benefits of my work again. She whose only talent is to make money from Philistines. She who is not family........ or friend. She whose life is theatre, who is merely an actor. For a true artist does not have a career. These souls you will put on a show for, who are they? Do you really know them or what they really want/need? Will they get to know you........ how i once did? While they exist in your tower block, do you see them? When you make a show to prove you care to mop up their life-blood and tell them all is fair. What happens when you leave? When the cameras stop rolling and the light is taken away? Is it not better to never have known warmth than to experience it for a few minutes in a long, cold lifetime? I know you........ i know you well. You are the privileged girl from one year down who required of me to draw her this and describe her that. And i did........ i did anything i could to please you even though i found you sometimes waring. I knew one day you would return my favours with your kindness........ you were my warmth. So when do we marry as you once promised? When do we come together to see the people we once were........ and who we are now? There is no need........ you see me every day my dear Lucretia as i am your reflection. All you despise in me is all that is within you but, are too scared to acknowledge, to accept or ever dare reveal. Do you recognise me? Do you know me? Did you ever? I am now a part of you but, i always have been........ i was your tower. I tried to please you in every way as i was sure you'd be kind enough to return the favour one day........ i am still waiting........ did you forget about me? How can you bring out the best in someone who you actively avoid? You'll get your tower in the sky one day, you'll find someone only too willing to build it for you. However, it will not be exactly how you want it. You'll need a true artist to give you exactly what you want. Yes, you'll get your plastic tower but it will be the artist in a shoe box who will run free. Yes, you will have your tower but, there will always be a part of you unfulfilled. You'll never see my drawings again. You'll never ask me to draw for you again.