Life In A Dream

I scream in colour but sink to bed.

I close my eyes and dream in red.

My face is pale, my eyes of dark.

The flashing lights going black.


The land of mine has endless time.

A reflection claims another life.

I am so strong, I am so brawn.

A king I am of my own crown.


I taste the freedom when it dies.

Imagination paints all my lies.

Flying flies arise then play,

watching the skies as I lay.


In the deepest blue there is no reason.

It is not here what I call prison,

but in the fates that stand in lines.

A make believe with open eyes.


Myself swirls, swims and turns.

Spirals until my body hurts.

Burns my mind without precausion.

Reality in a twisted motion.


I am where I am not.

I see exactly what I want.

I cannot help but staying more,

because I know that I should not...

My life dissapoints me furthermore.

The Door

Close the door and look away.

Let the footsteps of the past carry you to your former state.

No need to keep the memories.

You don't belong in my world

as I do not in yours.

I'm sorry but I'm not used to getting damaged

nor I shall ever be.

I was not made to be broken,

not in a world that decays by the second,

not where love hurts.

Here is where everything is perfect,

because true perfection lies on imperfection,

because there are no mistakes,

only knowledge in the form of experiance.

You are as frail as a rose.

Reach your beauty at its best,

your full potencial

and the countdown begins,

mortality of mind.

In your personal maze the end is the beginning,

you are circling infinately around nothing.

Its all empty, your life.

I could crush you under my strength.

But I didn't.

I chose to learn from you.

You taught me pain.

Now it will be as if you never met me,

as if you never seen,

your truth is but a lie.

That's all I really mean.

I''ll see you in another life.

Maybe...

To My Sweet Escape

I only wish you could love me too, the way I do...

I'm sorry for telling you all this, but I would be more sorry if I didn't.

But I'm not sad now, the sorrow was gently washed away by your very presence.

Just the bitterness at the edge of my lips remains and a hole in my heart of an empty promise, empty words...

I'm not alone, just lonely...

A prisoner to a cell of my own device, bound forever to the darkness of my soul.

Guess what, you were my best escape...

Murder Tales

Blood on my Cresent Blade, for I,

my People have I Slayed.

And Cried, at the sight of the Moon,

as I was caught in the middle of the Red Typhoon.

Sad truth is but a preface,

as to wipe out this whole damn race.

Undeserving of life, murderers,

and I, murderer of murderers.

Soupa Avgolemono

Agapiti Anagnostes,
Simera tha kanoume Soupa Avgolemono. Ne kala diavasate! Isaste etimi gia afti tin sinarpastiki sintagi pou eggiite se sas ena pentanostimo ke xortastiko piato? Parte tis katsarolles sas ke ksekiname.

Ilika: 5 Potiria Zomo (apo kotopoullo, kreata i kotozomo), 1 Flintzani Rizi, 5 Krokous avgon, 1/4 Potiri ximo lemoniou, Alati, Piperi.

WARNING: Afta ta ilika ine stixiodis simmasias! Must-have gia to kathe spitiko pou sevete ton eafto tou.

Ektelesi (An ke den m'aresoun oi skotomoi, idika otan prokite gia fagito): Vazete to zomo na vrasi, prostheste to katharismeno rizi ke afiste to na vrasi anakatevontas to kata diastimata mexti na psithi. Meta katevaste tin apo tin fotia. Ktipate tous krokous ton avgon me to lemoni, to alati, to piperi ke prostheste ligo zomo stous krokous xtipontas tous sinexos. (Sas ipa pos den m'aresi i via, ma ti na kanoume, i sintagi prostazi ke emis ekteloume.) Sti sinexia rikste to migma ton avgon sti soupa ke anakatepste to gia ligo. (Den sas emathe kanis na min pezete me to fai sas?) Ean tin thelete afrati, xtipate xorista to aspradi tou avgou ke rikste to sti avgokommeni souppa. (Afto itan bonus.) Anakatepste tin ke servirete tin. (Ke edo ftasame sto pio diskolo ke stixiodi vima aftis tis xronovoras ke akros epikindinis diadikasias, to fagoma.)
Kali oreksi files ke filoi!

Mia souppa toso kala sxediasmeni ap' oles tis ptixes. Ke omos, akolouthontas apla odigies kata gramma gia tin paraskevi tou otidipote, exi os apotelesma afto pou ftiaxnis na min exi psixi. Na min exi tipota apo sena pou to plathis ke tu dinnis zoi. Merikes fores kalo tha itan na apsifoume tus kanones, vazontas tin prosopiki mas sfragida se oti kanoume, me ton diko mas ksexoristo tropo os aneksartita onta.

Reflection

Hi...
Have you ever wondered how disturbing can a reflection in moving waters be?

This is not me. This is not my face.
Do not stare. Do not approach.
It is not safe. It is not real.
I'm scared. I'm terrified.
Where shall this maddened waters push me to?
Unsteady and unpredictable, a slave to their desires.

Do you even recognise me anymore?
I do not.
Help me, I cannot take it.
I plea you don't walk away,
I'm so powerless,
so merciless and cruel...
Save me!

Stop me, before it's too late.
No one has to get hurt in the end, right?
Now Run! -No, you can't abandon me...
Hide! -I've stayed hidden for too long...
The voices, they never stop...
I do not deserve to live. -But I am not guilty yet.
My thoughts are...
What is the meaning of all this anyway?
Dead End -Or?

Maybe we can work this out.
Maybe...
But only if you stayed by my side...

Hi self.

In Distortion I Perish

A borrowed ego or a borrowed body?
Red or black the bets are set.
Tie them tight, it has been said...

"The moment they cherished and in the ashes of them a new world perished."
As if what happened was enough to protect the ones that chose to be lost.
Eyes reflecting lies laid on an infinate struggle, as if crawling through a flame,
to purify, to burn the unnesecities.
Those pests amongst the "people".

And god forbid me to say that i am tempted.
The shadow unleashed shall derive the power of creation,
for the acts and deeds depend on its form.
A valiant wisdom, an art of deception?

Attuned to the rhythm of a fluent projection
Who shall lead? Who shall leave?
"Thou hast seen, thou hast been"
Colours are made of colours
as people are made of sins
and sins are made of people,
manmade illusions to keep us spinning between the lines.
A spider that got caught up in the web of its neighbour
is indeed a sad momentum,
building up a continuation of the most bitter-painted truth.

Depictures life's blossom
What if dreams were not ciggarettes?
gradually turning into ash
piling up layer by layer.
"Enjoy" them while they lead you to a new decadence.

Then find the perfect urn for a life's memorial
and blow it all away when the time comes
if the time ever comes,
in this world freedom rarely lasts...

And I envy,
the gentle breeze of the wind
for it carries the ashes into the far away lands i've hoped for,
but im not allowed to...
I feel it, noone said that I had to understand it too.

And if i say i was never tempted to,
I would be a liar
So carry them away...
The places, and the roles of this play have been given.
After all what are we?
If I answer it would be an act of folly, a fools reply
and if i did not, a coward would I be called.
Heros are fools they say,
brainwashed puppets in the hands of masterminds.
All those fights for the ash,
of an anon's dream? - a piece of land.
Missing the breeze that melts and soothes the pain of existance.

Bend me into the given shape, if you can,
thinking does no good after all.
I could believe you if i chose to,
the art of deception...
It can hide true colours, can distort the picture
and in there I can blend in
Distort me...
A farewell to the wind, which i was not allowed to travel with...

Pondering

Pondering is an infinate sea of arguments.
Arguments are contradictions.
They contradict what it has been said.
Contrast between differences.
A bridge between two worlds.
And our world is made out of words.
A word is a picture, but a picture is one thousant words.
Not all is reveiled.
Not knowing the hidden mercies of our adversaries, not knowing it's our own selfs we fight.
An inaccurate calculation of the future where dreams and hopes sow their seeds.
The mathematics of a heartache, the possibilities of guilt, but most of all the pain...
I miscalculated...

Top 7 Pick Up Lines

"Do you have a map? I got lost in your eyes..."

"Zaxaroplastis itan o pateras sou? Ise toso glikia..."

"Hey babe, are you tired? Cause you have been running wild in my dreams all night."

"Kleftis itan o pateras sou? Epidi eklepse ola ta asteria tou ouranou ke ta vale sta matia sou."

"Are you from Tenesi? Cause you are the only ten I see."

"Are you ok...? Are you sure? Cause I've seen you falling from the sky, angel..."

"Did you just fart? Babe, you blew me away..."

Just Give Me Some Christian Sexism

"Η ΜΟΡΦΗ ΤΗΣ ΨΥΧΗΣ ΕΧΕΙ ΤΗΝ ΜΟΡΦΗ ΝΕΟΥ ΑΝΤΡΑ 30 ΜΕ 32 ΧΡΟΝΩΝ. Αυτο ισχυει και για τους αντρες και για τις γυναικες. Οι γυναικες ειναι ο απολυτος πειρασμος και το καλυτερο οπλο του εωσφορου. Γι'αυτο απαγορευεται η παρουσια της στο ΑΓΙΟ ΟΡΟΣ. Ειναι η αιτια για τον ξεπεσμο του ανθρωπινου ειδους. Οτι κανει ο αντρας το κανει για να ανεβει στα ματια της γυναικας, κανωντας παρανομιες, εγκληματα, εξαπατα ανθρωπους, συνεργαζεται με τον διαολο, πουλαει την ψυχη του σ'αυτον προκειμενου να πετυχει τον στοχο του, να αποκτησει δοξα και εξουσια. Αν δεν υπηρχε η γυναικα ο αντρας θα συμπεριφερονταν τελειως διαφορετικα."

A Coward's Bloody Rose

And death shall be the sweetest poison
for my name shall remain unknown.

A cursed life have I chosen,
of a lost lifetime the sour wine I have tasted
and doomed myself to crawl among the strangers.

Twisted is our nature,
the night's dark veil our only guardian
and its creatures we call family.

My time has yet to come.
But my poor fabled soul has awakened.
No, it cannot be.
This melody and the white rose.
Haunting memories of the realm of innoscence.
I cannot restrain myself any longer.

What a majestic moment,
but I shall not witness my victory.

All that shall be left of me,
a coward's bloody rose...

Stairway to Infinity

Kathome edo sto andro tis akolasias mou ke agnantevo to keno, osa perasane mesa stin rapsodia mias stigmis, mias mikris zois.

Somehow words are never enough,
somehow the meaning gets lost in translation.
Anyone can read words,
the difficult part is reading the silence.
Most people are afraid of the dark,
so few seek its guidance,
so few find its wisdom.
The dark is the unseen,
the silence the unspoken.
The beauty of seeying what your eyes can't see.
To perceive what all your sences fail to.
Infinity.

Πιστεύω εις μίαν σούβλαν

Edo paratithonte ta pistevo kathe aksiou Kipriou (apefthias metadosi apo to facebook) pou timai tis paradosis tou mesa apo mia ilikrinis prosefxi pou aggizi tin pio vathia alithia pou krivete piso apo ta Xristougenna mas, tin emporikoteri giorti tou xronou. Aftes tis giortines meres pou plisiazoun, ne kiries ke kirioi, pistevo... Esis?

Πιστεύω εις μίαν σούβλαν, κυπριακήν, ποιοτικήν, ψημένην σε φουκούν και περασμένην σε μακριές σμίλες, με το μοτοράκι στο ON.

Και εις τα μαύρα τα κάρβουνα, γορασμένα σε σακκούλλαν μαύρην εξ περιπτέρου και τοποθετούμενα μέσα στην φουκούν, παίρνουν φόκον.

Φωτιάς εκ φουκούς, σούβλας χοιρινής, με κάρβουνα αφτούμενα, ψησθέντα εκ παρουσιάς διαφόρων ανθρώπων που ομιλούσαν για πολιτικά και μάππες.

Για δι ημάς τους Κυπρίους και την ορθήν απόλαυσην της σούβλας, κατελθόντα εκ της φρουταγοράς, αλλοδαπή γυναίκα και έφερεν αγγουράκια και τομάτες για την σαλάταν.

Και σερβιρισθέντα με την σαλάταν ημων, επι πιάτων μεγάλων, και φαηθέντα και χωνευθέντα.

Και τα αποφάγια εδόθησαν στους σκύλους για περαιτέρω καταβρόχθισην.

Και το τραπέζιν εκαθαρίσθην μετά φαμόζο απο τας κυρίας και έπειτα εσερβιρήσθην γλυκόν.

Και στο τέλος πάλιν εισακούσθηκεν το “Άτε τζιαι που Δευτέρας δίαιτα” απο τους κυρίους.

Και εις την φουκούν την μεταλλικήν, την τέλειαν, την στιβαρήν, την αιτίαν για το ψήσιμο της σούβλας, το συν μοτοράκι αφτούμενο για να γυρίζει τας σμίλας, ενωμένον με πόλους στο διπλοκάμπινον ημών.

Εις μίαν λαχταριστήν,τραγανήν και ανεπανάληπτην σούβλαν.

Ομολογώ το μάσημαν ολόκληρης αυτής.

Προσδοκώ την αθανασίαν αυτής.

Και να είναι άμιλλη εις τους αιώνας,

Αρνίν.

Afto Pou Ftiaxni Tis Skies

Skotinia ston ourano sas ma atenizo to keno

s' afti tin psixri ke afilokseni politia pou me eriksan ta xronia.

Ta xronia pou kilisan san xionia

stivagmena se mia troxia gia to pouthena

perimenontas tin avgi na ta aggaliasi me to fos tis

dinnontas tous mia pio aoristi morfi

ekini pou xarizi eleftheria

ke ta perithoria stenevoun otan to telos ine i arxi.

Petrines apsixes morfes na me kitazun

sti mesi tis kosmosirrois ton aniparxton vrethika ke ego.
Tragikes morfes pou sernonte xoris ixni

san anastenagmos pou svinni

etsi xannonte ki afti...

Ena aeriko mou psithirise ta magika ta logia

tin diadromi gia tou paramithiou tin xora

lipame ma den me perni pia i ora

vlepo to fos pou plisiazi ke tromazo.

To fos ine pou ftiaxni tis skies otan kanenas den to vlepi

ke ego arnoume na gino alli mia skia sti mavri tous tin thalassa.

Trexo mesa stin nixta me svista fanaria ke svismenes elpides

san ena agrimi kinigimeno sta egkata tou dasous...

Logic Vs Emotion

O kathe anthropos exi mesa tou dio fones, ekini tis logikis ke ekini tou sinesthimatos. Pia apo tis dio fones tha iperisxisi ke tha ipokinisi ton kathe anthropo? Agnosto.

Analiontas tin foni tis logikis, tha prepi na anafero oti i logiki ine kati ipokimeniko, an skeftis to gegonos pos, to ti ine logiko ke ti oxi, diamorfonnete apo tin kinonia ke tis pepithisis pou mas kaliergoun. Afti i foni lipon, analiei ta panta litourgontas pros to simferon mas, parousiazontas mas tis pio epikerdous lisis vasi ton trexon katastaseon.

To sinestima ap' tin alli omos litourgi diaforetika. Litourgi pera apo ta filtra tou sostou ke lathous, apsifontas kathe idous kanones. Den mporis na allaksis i na diamorfosis afti tin foni, mono na tin kanis prosorina na sopasi, zontas me tin psevdesthisi pos tin nekroses.

Pia ap tis dio prepi na akolouthisis? Ta sinesthimata ine toso astata ke metavlita, mpori na se gelasoun, eno i logiki tha su dixni panta ton "sosto dromo". I ironia ine omos, pos mono akolouthontas to sinesthima kapios mpori na gini pragmatika eftiximenos, aneksartita an afti i stigmiea eftixia tou prokalesi mellontiko pono.
Ke o ponos ine ena simantiko meros tis zois pou mas kani na orimazoume ke na sinidopioume pragmata pou prin den mporusame na antilifthume me ton tropo pou ta vlepoume tora.

Polles fores, xoris oute emis i idioi na to skeftoume, kanoume pragmata aprosmena, pou den mporoume oute kan na ta etiologisume. San enstikto pou litourgise apo mono tou. Ekini i stigmi pou drasame, itan me apoliti eleftheria apo ta prepi ke ta giati. Eleftheria apo tin idia mas tin skepsi, pou polles fores, den ine para i ixos ton ideon pou alli mas fitepsan sto kefali. Otan katalavoume ti kaname, eki paremvenni i foni tis logikis ke mas vazi se mia diadikasia na dikeologithoume gia tis praksis mas ston idio mas ton eafto.

Min afisis pote tin logiki na se kani na esthanthis ntropi gia kati pou esthanthikes, giati ine san na niothis ntropi gia ton idio sou ton eafto, tou opiou prepi na mathis na agaliazis kathe kommati tou.

Ke Nekros Enikan

Opios ke na to ekane pantos, itane poli kala organomenos. Mesa se 2 ores kataferan na skapsoun 2 metra vathos xoma ke na aferesoun tin tafoplaka xoris na tis prokalesoun zimia. Topothetisan asvesti pano apo ton tafo gia na kalipsoun tin mirodia, gia tin paraplanisi ton skillon, afinnontas piso tous miden ixnoi. Ekmetallevomeni to skotadi pou epese apo tin diakopi revmatos, kinithikan grigora, vasi sxediou...

Katarxi mono ke mono i dilosi tis ikogenias papadopoullou, exi kinisi arketes ipopsies. Epeleksan na dilosoun ta akoloutha:

"Η ανίερη αυτή πράξη των τυμβωρύχων, πέραν της θλίψης και οργής που προκαλεί, δεν μπορεί με κανένα τρόπο να ενταφιάσει την πολιτική και να διαγράψει τις παρακαταθήκες που κατέλειπε ο Τάσσος Παπαδόπουλος. Οπου και αν βρίσκεται τώρα η σορός του, η φωνή του θα ακούγεται και θα διαρκεί, σε αυτούς τους δύσκολους καιρούς της εθνικής μας υπόθεσης"

Opos tha paratirisate, pouthena den anaferete paraklisi gia epistrofi tis sorou, para mono to gegonos oti to ergo tou teos proedrou ke o agonas sinexizonte. Afti i klopi tous exi vali kato apo ta fota tis dimosiotitas se pagosmio epipedo. Dimiourgithike salos, gia ena mnimosino pou epi kanonikon sinthikon tha perniotan aparatirito. Ela omos pou to mnimosino tha ginotan me adio feretro...

Aksioperiergo omos ine ke to gegonos oti i ikogenia pliroforithike to simvan i ora 8 ke omos katafthasan mia ora argotera ston topo pou o proin proedros anapavotan gia 364 meres, eno tha mporusan na vriskonte eki se diastima 10 lepton. Afto den sas vazi se skepsis? Arage na itan kati anamenomeno gia aftous to gegonos?

Os gnoston, o Tasos kratouse mia entelos diaforetiki stasi os pros tin lisi, to sxedio Anan, ktl, apo ton proedro tis dimokratias Xristofia. Me afti tin praksi, polloi epitidioi vrikan aformi na epanenosoun ton lao ke na anazopirosun ton fanatismo os pros tin plevra tis politikis tou Tasou, kontrarontas etsi ta parontika sxedia pou isos na mas exoun feri konta sti lisi, kathos ke na diafilaksoun tin kipriaki plevra tis kiprou apo tin enosi.

To idio ekanan ke oi Kiprioi pou gemisan tous tixous me ta vlasfima graffiti "I Kipros ine Tourkiki", gia kaliergia pereterou misous metaksi ton dio laon, odigontas tous aganaxtismenous polites sto "OXI".

Telika exoune dikeo, "Zi, zi ke mas kathodigi..."
I Kipros exi ena nekro igeti.

The Wotaken

And Paranoia tastes like magic mushrooms. Run, dance, cook, all wild, experiance the thrilment and the sheer exitement of this unforgettable experiance. Don't forget to wear something silly and absolutely ridiculous to fit your state of mind.

And Let Me Be Real

Midnight Sky Delights...
The Seductive Silence...
Thrill me.
Amaze me.
Captivate me.

I have a wish,
while I’m blessed by a newborn bliss
to provoke the thought,
erase all scripts,
challenge the stars...

Blindfold me,
so I can see what I currently cannot perceive...
Tie me up in the net of your world...
Make me sink deep in the core your thoughts,
just to taste your immortality...
Let me be a part of this magnificent beauty...
Just for a moment...
This sacred moment...

Truth Seekers

Ti ginete otan mia zoi kinigas tin alithia pasi thisia, me olo sou to ine? An ekini i anazitisi sou dinni logo na iparxis, dikeoma na anapneis ke kinitro gia na zis?

Erxete kapios epitidios ke sou kopanai me sarkasmo ke ironia, pos i moni alithia ine, pos den iparxi alithia. Ne kala akousate.

Toulaxiston oxi stin apoliti ke monadiki morfi tis. I alithia den ine para mia sxetiki ekdoxi peri sostou ston dosmeno xrono. Afti ine i pagida, i idia sou i parormisi se filakizi se akoma ena favlo kiklo.

Mexri na apofasisis na dosis telos. Mexri na afisis tin alithia stin akri, otan tha katalavis pos den aksize olo ton kopo. Isos kapios allos na tin vri os tote, ke esi apla na tou apantisis pikrammena:

"I alithia sou, den ine alithia..."

Once Loved

Kill me she whispered
with a voice of a stranger
as her insane laughter
echoed across the night

This wasn't her
It couldn't be...
This wasn't the one I loved
Not my girl, just the monster she has become

I have to end this
Memories flooded me, happy ones...
She was gone forever now
The one I loved was long lost...

My sword closed tighter around my hands
as I was trying to avoid the obvious
I closed my eyes
just feeling the breeze of this coal black night

Shadows or intruders?
the lingering scent was spreading
begging me to win, begging me to kill
to kill what I once loved...