Close to this sleeping root, in its flesh of ancient earth,
something struggles silently to become light again, to be born anew from shadow.
And we remain, with our thoughts hanging like a rope torn from the sky,
wondering whether to overlook its gentleness, sweet and annihilating.
A tumbling of black waters follows, over the forehead of my memory,
a shaken clarity, like a lightning bolt that lies, falsifies, and forgets.
Then I barely recognize the electric grace of the men from long ago,
whom I had seen carrying their rusted shirts through the swamp that scorched them,
planting themselves in the ground with arms outstretched like a cross, a condor on each shoulder,
men who wanted to die beautifully, shattering their bones like ancient bells,
their eyes extinguished like burnt amber, silent as icons forgotten by prayer —
and I feel them smoldering within me, like a root that refuses to sleep.
And I walk out into this magical, phosphorescent rain, mystical and cold,
to untie the rope that binds me across centuries and dreams,
to roll myself back into the root from which all that I am has struggled to become again.
Crimes of the heart
Crimes in the heart
“Crimini del cuore”
“Crimini nel cuore”
No one sees
No one sentences
Silent crimes
Perpetual
Forever
In sleep
In waking
Killing life
Annihilating
Choked children
Strangled strangers
Protected land of death
No betrayal
No remainders
Tricks of life
Love’s rejection
Death
The final unending protection
the dragon conquered both armies, annihilating them with fire
soldiers screamed as he incinerated both sides, their lines breeched.
shields did not help them, and swords would not pierce his armor.
soldiers were helpless, falling down as the dragon screeched in the mire.
two witnesses lived to tell the tale, ten thousand and one dead.
though on opposite sides during the war, they became fast friends.
the dragon claimed yonder castle as his own and promptly went to bed.
two new friends ran home to tell the tale, without exaggeration bends.
spirits that floated out of the war that day went to various places of course.
patience had to be with the solider spirits who arrived at heaven's gate
leaders went the same way, and realized they were both thick and Norse.
why were we fighting? They asked each other. Why the hate?
the dragon felt smug as he watched these antics in his crystal ball.
he wanted marauders, soldiers, and armies to see their demise, their fall.
we are all put on earth to learn to love each other, after all.
he demanded dragon soup and stayed with this staff until the fall.
{"I poisoned myself, thinking about you nonstop, it was annihilating me on the inside, even the melancholy sounds of the river streams that intonate into droplets, do not convey to me the ultimatum of serenity anymore.
Your presence was sufficient to morph me into someone I’m certainly not.
I cut my eyes to the mirror and I cannot recognize myself anymore. I pick up a boulder and heave it, ravaging it to pieces, my hands unfurled to grab one piece of the blade.
Realization creeps up on me, I buried my soul with you, you were above whilst I was below; you would,
make me believe I was worthy of nothing, not even yourself; us standing side by side; a privilege you would insinuate.
I poisoned myself,
the malevolence was too intoxicating,
the sentiments were too bottomless,
how to exude it remained an enigma,
I poisoned myself with a misconception about you,
you weren’t who I thought you were; I haul my feet to the desolate ledge of the flowing water,
I let myself go, when I started to loathe you and your existence.
Like a wolf scrutinizing its prey; once upon a time, you abhorred me, and I loved you.
It seems as if opposites really do attract. What a…
Tragedy."
Modern technology:Man invents the most perfect method for annihilating
his fellow man.
Written: September 22, 2023
______________________________________________________________
A realm of echoes, as olden and topical cascade
Lacking them tears my heart in the palmy shade
The wind howls, annihilating both virtue and vice
Whisking away remnants of love's dulcet spice
My vision and voice are hindered by the haze
I shirk all I've loved and split, with a tearful gaze.
Oblong outlines of a soul
Stretched in elliptical misery
Redefines the perfect circle
To a breakable volatile tautness
Loosely cloaked in sheaths of epitonic blue
Draped upon the shrinking body to hide a terrified world
Dressed in swirling ominous patterns of anonymity
To be lost within the deepest abyss of fatal fear
Planted like a tenuous girder of iron truth
On a bridge of no return
There is no departure from excruciating fear
From this wicked self-imposed poltergeist
An unseen force deliberates death
Smothering with tremulous trepidation
Annihilating the essence of existence
With no bond found on common ground
There lies the secret
Within the mystery of a soul’s distress
The exorcism of human strength
As fear brings the will of life to a standstill
7-12-2023
Taliban march on,
Kabul falls into the hands of barbarians
As
Chaos and death their steps follow.
-
Mothers mourn their children
Bereaved wives grieve the death of their husbands
Panic is instilled in every heart and mind of
Each freedom-loving Afghan.
-
Desperation and fear
Slowly but persistently establish their depressive dominion
Dragging society into the abyss of ignorance
By annihilating human rights and freedom of expression, and
At the same time
Depriving women, among other things, the privilege of education
For
The new despots wish to weave the web of their regime in
Total darkness so as to fit the color of their
Unenlightened souls.
© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 August 2021
*When the Taliban ruled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001, the government banned music and barred women from attending school or leaving their homes without a male escort. In 2001, the U.S.
**According to a United Nations report, the Taliban were responsible for nearly 40 percent of civilian casualties in the first six months of this year, more than any other party to the conflict in Afghanistan.
Lament not, oh illustrious lama
Simply be still, surrender to Gods will
Distracted not by ego brouhaha
Divine aligned, heart cleansed of erst stigma
Bliss suffused form, with nectar overspills
Lament not, oh illustrious lama
Soul eternal, fleeting our amnesia
Hold steady resolve, ascending uphill
Distracted not by ego brouhaha
Bliss ignition within, our nirvana
All dark voids within, Gods love and light fills
Lament not, oh illustrious lama
Earth life saga, may be free if trauma
Living vibrantly, distanced from evil
Distracted not by ego brouhaha
Ohm mantra, annihilating karma
Receptive souls shaped upon the anvil
Lament not, oh illustrious lama
Distracted not by ego brouhaha
26-July-2021
Tourist to the sun.
Fired-up for take-off,
wearing my asbestos suit, designed to deflect,
I bring with me a cabin full of un-marked baggage for the hold.
Wing walker without a rope,
hurtling to the light fantastic,
untethered.
First to sign up
to step off the map;
where even the silvery surface is marked by dark spots;
even the brightest star is already dead.
With outstretched arms I
surrender to the sun,
glide, star-shaped, licked by flicking tongues of flame,
into the white-hot core;
white heat devouring sound,
eclipsing time,
searing conscience and
annihilating thought.
Not arrogance that brings me here,
but fear.
The elemental need to fly, unfettered,
to pilot my own craft;
to pierce reality,
and seek the truth behind it,
and, in seeking, half expect to find it.
And thus, avoiding bird-strikes,
negotiate safe water-landings
when at last I am earthbound;
within my hand,
a brand to fire my piece of earth’s story
when I return
scorched and burned.
Along time linear, memories blur
The ones recalled by mind, are those that bind
Mixed emotions stir, of which some endure
As we rewind time, life has left behind
Fleeting is youth prime, headed for deaths chime
Boon now bane, until desires to rest lain
Yet untouched by time, is bliss throb sublime
Free from ego borne stain, once darkness slain
Time in dalliance with our sentience
Holding its breath, in the void of stillness
Let then our dance, be in exuberance
Entwining our soul, with the That oneness
Bliss throbs within spear, as Gods love draws near
Movement of time itself, then disappears
24-May-2021
Time poetry contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Those feelings that I get,
Are hard to forget.
That smile never fades,
Either year gets passed or decades.
Annihilating your reflection is too hard,
That lane of memory is falling apart.
It makes me smile the way you look,
We are on different pages of the same book.
Again one day, it will all start,
But see the fate, I am falling apart.
The mistral cold wind blew incessantly wild,
Winding in the streets, its glacial currents in and around
The apartment blocks where all frosted windows
Were tightly secure. Still the bleak wintry chill entered
From tiny ruptured chinks and spread inside
Annihilating the miserly heat emitted
By old cranky air conditioners and gas heaters.
Occasional bursts of strong wind blew
Some soft snow up like winnowed chaff.
One hopes the homeless found some place to rest.
The movie got it
all wrong
you see
those big guns
pointed at a
different horizon
the battle that
raged had more
prisoners than dead
but that’s old
news and dead men
tell no tales
your ranks are
depleted
troops fighting
formidable forces
against all odds
trench warfare
now a brutal
war of
endless attrition
in the interest
of annihilating
deadly enemies
all heroes
make it home
eventually
notify the next
of kin
for the dead
all wars come
to an end
eventually
rally the troops
for the
final campaign
the outcome
is certain
ticker tape parade
the ground
in ruins
soldiers fade away
reflections of
the wreckage
an inevitability
though the cost
was great
the heart rejoices.
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)
Hate is born of fear
From the bowels of the barrel of the beast
of a closed person
Closed heart
closed fist
closed mind
Hate poisons the environment
Worse, hate finds hate
The perpetrators look carefully
For those like-minded
Others who carry rage and sorrow and anger
and want to kill someone,
thinking it will make them feel better
Let’s get that one.
He looks different than us.
He is kind of effeminate. Not a fighter.
No camo, no guns, no anger, no rage.
Let’s go as a pack, like a slashing crashing murdering
insane, crazy, fanatical out-of-our-mind mob
That should make us feel better
Picking on beauty, slashing it and annihilating it.
We congratulate ourselves with buckets of beer
Because we are the chosen
Maybe and
The trickster devil may have a special room for you
Tread softly you homophobic haters,
You may not yet know what real fear is….
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