We were conceived and born in sin
Shrouded in pitch darkness
The price written was death
Paid for by Adam as a price for
treasonable felony in death
Then darkness became our
second nature,
Our apparel and our cloak
Jesus stood in our place and
Paid the debt of our progenitor
He took upon Himself our burden
and baggage of sin
Nailing it on the cross.
Declaring our freedom from the law
of sin and death
Lightening our darkness
Illuminating Us with His light.
A squirrel booked a spa day, fed up with all the treetop riff-raff;
he stretched out in our garden mud, declaring it a “mineral luxury bath.”
Saw a squirrel splooting on a summer noon,
flat on the sidewalk like a furry cartoon.
He stretched his legs wide—north, south, east, west~
declaring, quite boldly, This spot is the best!
His belly met concrete with a satisfied sigh,
while passersby wondered, Is he trying to fly?
But no—he was cooling his heat-weary hide,
a tiny sun-soaked acrobat, splooting with pride.
So if you see a squirrel lying long and low,
don’t worry—he’s fine in his heat-beating pose.
He’s simply a master of summer survival,
splooting his way to a breezy revival.
Abiding in God-granted freedom of gracious zest
Blessed to enjoy independence while fulfilling roles with all the best
Committed am I to testify of writing privileges against expression-test
Driven by gratitude in triumphantly soaring toward creative functionality crest!
Ever-upheld by God-given nation’s sovereignty fought through heroic deed
Freed from conquering skepticism due to doubts, unbelief, dogma of false creed
Geared am I to continue championing freedom of expression with responsibility indeed
Hoisted for truth-prevalence... subduing deceit, hypocrisy and folly midst fake news’ breed!
Inspired with history’s lessons for freedom-fight
Justice and fairness I strive to expose along my faith's publication plight
Kindled with lovingkindness, mercy and peace in declaring the Lord’s goodness-might
Leading toward my personal liberation against destructive biases of human nature’ blight!
A semicolon, small and plain,
Unassuming at first glance,
Yet carrying profound meaning
For those who know its story.
It stands for resilience—
Against despair,
Against hopelessness,
Declaring, I did not give up.
It also bears the weight of loss:
Loved ones and dear friends
Who could not endure
The battles they once faced.
The semicolon whispers,
My story is not over.
I will keep moving forward—
For myself,
And for those
Who no longer could.
What Does 1776 Mean to You?
Does it speak of freedom—
the year the United States was born,
its birth certificate
penned by none other
than Thomas Jefferson?
He wrote of liberty,
of unalienable rights,
that all are created equal,
yet kept others in chains,
refusing to see
the humanity
of his enslaved brothers and sisters,
while building a nation
upon their labor.
How can a man proclaim
that all are created equal,
yet deny that truth
to those he enslaves?
How can he claim liberty
while taking away another's?
How can he exploit their women,
then deny the children
born of those unions—
his own flesh and blood—
while declaring freedom
the birthright of all?
A sprightly little squirrel named Drew
sat under a moon that was oddly blue,
and as its glow soaked through the night,
it dyed his furry body a dazzling hue.
He blinked, he twitched, he gave a chirp,
for blue is bold and far from meek~
but Drew, now bright as midnight skies,
felt rather dapper, quite unique.
He scampered up a maple tree,
declaring, “Look! Just look at me!”
The forest gasped, for never yet
had anyone seen such tint on a squirrel so free.
And now when moonlight turns to blue
and paints the nighttime’s silver view,
the squirrels all gather, hoping too
for a moonlit moment
to change their fur to blue.
When our children were mere babies…
dependent on us for food, love, shelter…and more
it never crossed our minds
to send them off to war.
I wish we…and our leaders would remember…
when declaring war…
knowing the death and destruction that will befall
those women and men you send to fight…
are still someone’s babies after all.
Sometimes it’s better to open your mouth
But on other occasions, it’s not,
For declaring opinions may often go south,
So decide if you’re taking that shot.
There’s a certain relief when your views are expressed,
Yet it could lead to some confrontation
And you might then regret not just letting it rest,
Thus avoiding a bad situation.
How to know what to do is a balancing act -
Neither spewing nor stewing’s ideal –
Though perhaps, with finesse and a sprinkle of tact,
You can calmly explain how you feel.
I’m declaring a personal rebrand.
I’ve a new personality at the beach.
On the way here (to Heraclee) - on the train
or the Uber - my ambitions and inhibitions
dissolved, without apology.
Frivolity is basal here, not some accessory -
we take our unseriousness seriously here.
If someone asks us about our plans,
we feel slightly attacked - what plans?
We left those behind, in Paris,
and we were happy to get rid of them.
I decided long ago, quite firmly, not to be miserable.
I’ve a real, stubborn insistence on joy.
After my first week here, I’ve practically forgotten AI panic,
crazy presidents, foreign wars and social media multipliers -
instead, I picked out matching pjs, cover-ups and string bikinis.
We have hard decisions to make though - even here - like,
‘Should we stare meaningfully at the ocean - or hookup?’
.
.
:
I remember the sun by XTC
More Than This by Roxy Music
.
.
*80s music seems to fit the beach
Dear sweet email,
sent at a bright and early 5 in the morning
who is greeted by my parents with a groggy groan -
but to me, you are no groan-able sight.
To me, sweet email, you are
a beacon of light, shining and bursting with hope
A white flag, waving high, sent through the barracks
of the endless war between myself and school’s 7am start
declaring a delicious delayed departure
for myself and my sisters.
You grant me the gracious gift
of turning over on my pillow,
setting my alarm to 7, and swiftly getting back to dreaming.
You instill upon my day
A day that cannot be anything but great, grand, perfect
For that day is shortened, and starts at 9.
Oh, two-hour delay, you are as rare as a four-leaf clover
but as welcome as a long-lost friend on my doormat
each time you choose to stop by
you will never be turned away.
I wake to find the world in golden bloom,
the celestial dawn chases the night away.
Loving you is watching shadows flee the room;
greeting the hallowed warmth of nascent day.
Our quiet hours, though small to mortal sight;
scripts of fate, dressed in regal finaries.
Stars guiding wanderers into the night,
granting the weary spirit holy rest.
Of your stunning eyes, a glance I seek;
a lightning bolt across a midnight sky.
Whispers and a soft kiss upon my cheek,
makes the very towers of reason fall.
Thy voice, a steady anchor of life's veil,
declaring all the works of nature good.
The humble cup, left by thy hand for me,
is like a peace-offering from ancient earth;
In shared and solemn silence, I am free,
to find within thy soul my second birth.
We bide our time until the tempests cease;
two spirits pacing to a single beat.
In every breath, I find a new release,
laying my heart—forever—at thy feet.
The notion engulfs my conscience.
It raises a question, I fail to answer.
They say, the body remains,
Whilst the soul departs.
A claim backed by none.
How do I know it's not trapped?
The emotions I endure today,
Magnified and unbearable.
The scorching sun,
A glass of lava poured over my body.
How do I lie on a pyre,
With hundreds of woods burning beneath?
Once contemplated burial.
Yet how I ignore,
The revulsion of crawling maggots.
Feeding on my brain.
Fading consciousness heralds the stench,
Declaring the emergence of decay.
The eternal peace is agonising,
Quivers, petrifies and shatters rationalization.
Though I'm acquainted with it.
I saw it, I knew it,
Nevertheless I attempted to evade it.
Why do I deny surrender then?
It is a race,
And death, the destined victor.
Age is the vessel I am aboard,
sailing forward, yet no reversal.
Not a glimpse of the past I discovered,
What is left of me that I'm afraid to die?
A cardiac prophecy, a sensual exchange
I’m feeling your energy run through my veins
Your aura consumes me, it invades my brain
My heartbeat is clumsy, you drive me insane
I honor the arrhythmia no matter the price
The butterflies in my chest are really quite nice
You woke something in me, I was living in ice
Til you melted my walls without thinking twice
I’m a moth to your flicker, a slave to your flame
My heart is calling and it’s declaring your name
This electrical current just cannot be tamed
An amorous arrhythmia, I’ll never be the same..
If one declares war on another nation for personal gains,
Unending will be his soul's sufferings, agonies, and pains!
Demetrios Trifiatis
21 March 2026
-
PRAY FOR PEACE!
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