Pontos Axeinos

You can ride my waves

but I will throw you back to land

You belong on sand

For I am the Ocean and

you are not a fish

I am dotted with blobs of earth in my infinity

I am the sea

You cannot swallow me gone,

I will always go on

I own the Siren’s song

My waves are their stage

and I can bring the rage

and shout the fathomless phrase,

“Ocean: A body of water occupying about two-thirds of a world made for man – who has no gills.”

 

White Elephant

In fits of desperation,

I cordon off parts of my soul,

extract them and tie them up

in pretty packages for people

I want to bribe into being my friends.

I call it poetry.

Let it Go

My ribcage is merely

a pair of hands

holding it all in;

a protection of the heart

And the time has come

to pry those bony fingers loose

Let my heart

drift into the ethos

to free its restricted beat

and controlled perimeters

Yet I am terrified

My grip is detrimentally tight

It would take a crowbar and a boning knife

to release those paranoid claws

Scalpel, please.

Chance

Hurt me once, twice

I’m trying to be nice

I can’t tell of how it stings

Without your defense

So I leave the results to chance

 

What a graceless dance

This silence begets

And yet, here comes the slap

When my red skin turns back to pale

You’ll get another chance

 

But memory has made me wise

And now I recognize

The steps unchoreographed

But predictable

Chances are, I”ll sit this one out

Drawn in

It’s best you breathe the night air slow;

your lungs will crystallize

if you pant

Rest the tip of your tongue

before it solidifies

into a leaping porpoise statue

Give the night its time

and the muses their silence

they scribe in frost

and show us the way

back to the hearth.