CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

WILD FIRE!

I laughed till I cried

at all that is happening.

As if I was waiting

long time to laugh with glee.

A screeching laughter

from the depth of my guts.

I could go out on the streets

and dance like Zorbas did

or onrush

singing a paean of war.

Strange times!

But it's still so "cold" , bro,

so cold, I'm freezing ...

It is not even expected

the heart to get warmer soon

even if it is burning like a wild fire.

Yes, let my heart explode, bro ...

I do not care anymore!

Let me explode

so the rest of the people feel and live better.

Greek History is shouting

from the depths of Yerevan!

I rewrote the poem in English under my efforts to advance abroad with my small forces through the Art the Greek but also European and Global economic problem which tortures the peoples around the world more and more. I also suggest to all of you to start your own small revolution of Intelligentsia, Word and Poetry fighting the violation of human rights by  a small elite just for money.

GIVE ME PEACE!

I doubt everything!

People have now started

to seem in my eyes

SO sub-humans!

Such a herd!

So immoral...

We say blame money

But how, HOW-we the wretched ones-

as a mass or as individuals

we rape, kill, torture

women and children

-don't we do it with our own hands ? -

and then untroubled

we continue to live

by swabbing our nose

not to inhale

the stench of death

by plugging our ears

not to hear the  crying

of the wounded ones

of the dismembered ones

of the orphans

of the persecuted ones?

We turn our back and OK!

Nothing's wrong anymore!

When the Wilderness

hits our body

we are surprised and

we wonder

about the indifference of our "fellows"

-even if we  had called them so never before

Hordes of refugees

of abused ones

of hungry ones

of thirsty ones

opposite gaunt models

rocking  their boned hips

in crawled catwalks

opposite obese monsters

who are consuming

carcinogenic crap

and are in deep depression ...

I have nothing to say

So I speak from pain

I fear I'M AFRAID

that the babies who

I nursed in my arms

one day, in a next century

will mutate into

the perverted robots

which they embody

as they kill "the bad ones"

in  their online games

As therein they will perhaps seek

bonuses and awards

for those who they will have killed

Today in Gaza the enemies are

some horrible blackish ones

with checkered "tablecloths" on their heads

and the winners in tears

pray for forgiveness at the Wailing Wall

free from the annoying flies ...which

they fired to the fire abroad!

We do not know how to give love

that's it all  for sure!

We do not know how to love...

THE OTHERS

I'm living in my perfect bubble,

Seeing only the colors of my rainbow.

There are people out in the streets'

looking to the blue sky,

whispering their surprise for the beauty of the twilight.

They are sleeping with dogs to stay warm and safe.

Their shelter is a tree and their happiness a free nice cup of coffee.

They must survive, although someone is chasing them.

They are afraid of the thief with the red bicycle, who covers his face and

they’re afraid to tell the police too: " Cops are mean to me"

People who recognize themselves as diminished, lessened.

Young women with white hair, rapped in rags.

Homeless cowboys dependent on their pair of good socks,

of their military jacket, on their adolescent dreams.

Humans with emotions:

"in her big hug, her breasts were so exciting"

Humans wandering in the world in a faint despair,

coming and going, amongst the gangs and the "respectable ones",

needing just a garden of hope and love, their freedom and some food.

I'm praying for them in my ignorant, protective bubble.

I easy my conscience in my beautiful bubble...

HUMANS OR JUST MAMMALS?

What do we have got

except our personal fantasies

into a world of pain?

Do you see them, mother,

the homeless, the hungry,

the slaughtered, the wronged,

the sick, the criminals...

Do you really see them?

Do you feel that your sons and daughters

can become a part of

the whole world's miserable ones?

Did it consciously passed in your reality

even the slightest suspicion of this possibility?

Of this frightening nightmare?

That in the place of your withered roses,

it is always possible thorns to grow .

I never felt secure in my fake success...

THE DEARTH

Mo, you're old and

Pain's our mutual friend.

You try to connect.

People just neglect.

They heard your cry,

But their heart's dry.

Lying on the pavement.

Life's an enslavement.

However your smile

Indeed worthwhile

Even if toothless,

Your dreams so ruthless!

In your late lover's belief

You're stuck without grief

You 're talking to her

They think:"Alzheimer"

But you dare to prove

Love's in the groove!

Τhan hunger and death.

Maximum humans dearth!

RAPE IS APE. HAVE YOU EVOLVED?

Do you want to know the truth about APES worldwide? Take a look... http://maniacnanny.com/sample-page/

and DO SOMETHING! THE KEY WORD IS ....E D U C A T I O N !!! INDEPENDENT, SCIENTIFIC, ARTISTIC , EDUCATION WITHOUT BIAS, NO MATTER THE RACE, THE GENDER , THE RELIGION!

DO NOT LET YOUR CHILDREN BECOME BARBARIANS! (BARBARIAN SYNONYMS: savage, monster, beast, brute, yahoo, swine, ogre, sadist , lout, hooligan, illiterate, vandal, bigot, philistine, ned (Scot. slang), hoon (Austral. & N.Z.), ruffian, ignoramus, boor, boot boy, lowbrow, vulgarian,uncivilized, wild, rough, savage, crude, primitive, vulgar, philistine, uneducated, unsophisticated, barbarous, boorish, uncouth, uncultivated, uncultured, unmannered, rude

ANTONYMS; civilized cultured, civil, sophisticated, refined, civilized, genteel, urbane, highbrow, well-mannered, well educated)

ODE TO WOMEN

O' Woman the source of passion!

Woman the end and the start of men' world!

Mighty woman!

I've been always surprised

by how they treat you

Men are so terrified by your presence!

So many of them are able to tame you

only by suppressing you

by accusing you

only by persuading you

teaching you, treating you

growing you up like a REM

They dress you in black robes, burqas and veils

from head to toe

They say your beauty is a sin

They teach you to believe

it is bad for you to feel and to want

or even to wish for yourself

If they could, under all these cloths

behind all these screens,

they put to hide you,

they would have engraved in indelible letters

on your womb the word "RES"

You are to be owned, you are to be considered

as their THING : their treasure or their pawn

they cannot withstand the challenge

to keep you conquered with love and affection

they fear to lose you

so they find it easier to put your personality in chains

How dastardly, how pathetic, how cowardly, how despicable

to deprive you often even from your right to pleasure

to destroy even the organs and the orgasm which nature offered you

as a present to still carry on, to still support the perpetuation,

the nurturing and the well being of the human race

through your pains and struggles and though your own body

What exactly names men women’ absolute rulers?

Are MEN in charge to lead humanity into eternity?

Just think of a world without WOMBMEN. THINK!!!

I'm so MAD with what I see to happen against my gender

all around the world, I am so shocked!

I think that women’ affection, love and generosity

women’ devotion and faith, and finally women emotions

are the reasons men continue to be born and live

If womb-men were just men they would have eliminated

their dangerous lovers just after their fertilization

Just like the female praying mantis cannibalizes

the head of her sexual partner upon mating...

P.S. I love a lot men when they respect me just like I respect them!

"Res" ( accusative "rem") means "thing" in Latin.

POVERTY

If with some money you could

buy both food and appetite

then you should

be sorry you are just a poor knight

If the damned wealth

could give you health

no drugs instead

keeping you undead

If you could gain beauty

wearing those dresses

run my friend run!

make some expenses!

If same as the glance of your sweetheart

which made you happy

amusements proceed to your heart

then go on! Do not stop

Keep just having fun my buddy!

If you are able real friends

with money to uphold

not only minions and fans

for your mantle to hold

If your nest's coziness

less than to own a house yields

Well make some business

lament for those who

have no richness!

If your beautiful Rolex

can reverse the time's vortex

then my friend, I don't tease you

I will really never accuse you!

The dreams which I have

in rested sleep

I bet a new bed wouldn't give

even in luxury deep

lf I sell my poems' remnants

for gold to pay some servants

and if everyone in world

was paying just my hand to hold

and if people buy my knowledge

without I grow in wisdom

and the Innocent and Good ones

do not accept my Kingdom

and if the pleasure which I paid for

could even remind me how

my first unique Love was before...

I could appreciate then, honey,

those who the working people blood

drink unashamedly JUST FOR MONEY!

MISSING PEOPLE ACROSTICS

M...issiles,guns, bombs, dismembered victims

I... see them on media from afar I live in a

......peace paradise

S...ince I was born, WAR didn't come to mow

......in my place

S...o afraid I am often though, they say men

......are hunters

I...'m many sons' mother, danger's always

......near disguised in their aquired's defense

N...ever feel safe, my home's serene point's

......in Middle East's active crater

G...o away so long soaked in blood, horrible

......specter terrifying my nights!

P...hantoms soldiers of my ancestors who never

......came back reveal themselves out of history's dustbin

E...ntering in my heart's love temple

......to remind me

O...f human race's worst dark nightmare where weeping ......women

P...ay more than money to the mighty ones

L...ife is the price in massacres' abhorrent

.......marketplace where wide open

E...yes of dead youth stare expressionlessly

.......humanity's future deadlock

THE BALD SAINTS

There are some living Saints

with bowed bald heads'

Some holy beings

some aetherial acrobats

they're balancing on a tightrope at nights

amongst pain and life '

who just want to depart in peace

but they feel they have a duty to complete

therefore to still exist

for the sake of whatever they had been engaged to serve '

for the sake of whatever they shouldn't anyway leave behind alone'

to serve Love for as long they can bear it,

to do not give up hope for what will future bring ...

Potentially our overt or covert idols in deed ...

They often have a beautiful adolescent's or infant's form ...

Unspeakable the pain, severe heart's shame!

Ah! For some laudanum they just beg to withstand existence'

we, as despicable traitors or in a deep sleep resting

we dare to deprive the Gladiators of Courage

even from the opportunity to fight with a simple sword ...

Dedicated to my friends or unknown cancer patients or other severely ill patients , especially to the Young Heroes among them, who often in the merciless Greek society of the financial crisis are seeking even painkillers to find or are humiliated to resort to the charity, which fortunately is offered by some of us.

A RAPE VICTIM

Shshshshshshshshsh!

I was a victim

I really was a victim

twice

They tried to rape me

when I was eleven

I just escaped

twice

I beat them

twice

I knew how to beat them

I hit them

I knew where to hit them

My grandma told me

on their erect organ

My father beat the crap out of them

The police said we better shut up

The police beat them hard too

The police said they blame me on the court

The police said "Better do not suit them"

For my own good...

The police made me puke for a week

My dad made me puke when he asked

"What did you do

to provoke them?"

I beat them

But in fact

I'm a victim

I hear their boots

running behind me

all my damned life

I hate every walking man

behind me in the night

They raped my soul!

I always am the victim

OPENESS ETHEREE

What a wonderful world would be on earth,

if human souls were open to

meet the soul of everyone near,

without suspicion or fear,

just diving in eyes depths

to explore the waters

of innocence,

where the kids

who we

were .

MASTECTOMY

Relaxed under the midday summer sun

face down

on my wound

I feel the lack of my soft breast

which you cherished but almost killed me

I miss it

as I miss you

It betrayed me

just as you betrayed me

I try to defend myself against it

as I defend myself against your abandonment

I nourished with it life

Through this I felt the unique giving of the motherhood's fulfillment

The magic offer in life through nursing

the flowing emotion with no wrapping ...

Through it I offered continuity to nature

I gave and I received great pleasure

And now I am parted from it!

Sometimes I feel it to be still there

but now only as a threat ...

I fumble there terrified and the illusion disappears

How was I waiting for it to blossom as a little girl!

The confirmation of my femininity...

The source of admiration in my first erotic thrills

What a self-confidence!

I was touching it and it was reacting sensually

I was caressing it feeling secure.

I was taking care of it

I was protecting it to maintain

its erotic thelxion and beauty.

At first you did not dare to touch it

as if it were sacrosanct forbidden.

You were looking at it stunned.

But in the end you were coming exhausted

there to be comforted ...

"Ah, your breasts are something" you were just telling me...

You were resting your head on them with worship

so gently as if you would break them

and you were pleading me

"Please, let me be here a little longer!"

Relaxed under the summer midday sun

face down

I am feeling ...

My breast is my first piece which were buried ...

I was lucky!

Mother Earth didn't welcome me as a whole, I fooled her for a while longer .

I am ALIVE!

But really

I mourned for what I missed

As I for you too...

I am not ashamed even though I changed

I am proud!

I just would like now me to rest on your chest ...

You see

my complaint is no longer my breast which I buried.

My complaint is you

who I didn't achieve yet to bury in my past ...

You don't worth it.

RED

Red

Blood's red

Joy's red

Passion's red

Illusion of life

when color is red

my red cheeked student

was suddenly dead

Sun in dawn is red

but it's also red

when day's end

Red my lips from lust

Red my heartbeat

my love didn't last

its red heat

I see red tears falling

in the eyes of hungry kids calling

their dead ancestors

or their human protectors

Red light outside poor girl's door

trampled bud who's selling her carnal

for a nickel of vices paying her survival

No one pay for reading and writing her to learn

Educated pussies are not so easy to be burnt

since their bread through mental skills may be earned

Life is red

Anger is red

All that reddish thing

I really cannot withstand

I need serene colors

Faces of hate's red

Bleeding young soldiers are red

mixed with dead babies

with their diapers immersed in red

Red stones thrown

around the shaved hair

of the African woman

who was punished to be stoned

because someone else than

her husband raped her and gone

I see red all around

everything turns to

a red giant's explosion

my universe is being eaten

by a red catastrophe of notions

I need a wise orange

I need at least a sorrowful purple

Red is killing my time's slow turtle

I tried in this poem to use the passionate feeling that red provokes to make you run through many emotional states and many different rooms of human conscience and compassion. This I suppose can influence and make aware human soul passing for example from the joy of lust to the despair of death, as the ancient tragedians taught us, conducting soul through the tragic to catharsis

(C)Chryssa Velissariou