Until the day I open up the heart

Until the day I open up the heart
to let in warmth of blessed Holy Light,
in peril will the flesh and spirit part.

For now's the time to pull the lifelong cart,
the effort must be made with earnest fight
until the day I open up the heart.

While closed, from Light I'll always be apart,
the darkness of my life would end in night,
in peril will the flesh and spirit part,

the day the final drumbeat of the heart
in silence ushers in the unseen sight.
Until the day I open up the heart,

I must request the help of those whose part
in history was meant to show what's right.
In peril will the flesh and spirit part

unless I end the games of night and start
to pray until the dawn of morning light.
Until the day I open up the heart,
in peril will the flesh and spirit part.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

the movie of my life is not yet done

the movie of my life is not yet done
my lines are mostly silent, acts are wrong
I best rewrite it while there still is sun

this manuscript of mine, it weighs a ton
an autobiographical, so long,
the movie of my life is not yet done

there is a golden standard under Sun
yet this old tired script is far from strong
I best rewrite it while there still is sun

the act of writing life is never fun
it ends one day with a celestial gong
the movie of my life is not yet done

when darkness falls as curtains I'll be done
can no more check how it's coming along
I best rewrite it while there still is sun

when acts of mine are righted, I'll have won
my lines must have so earnestly been sung
the movie of my life is not yet done
I best rewrite it while there still is sun

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

there's a thumbtack on the floor

there's a thumbtack on the floor
you'll get pricked and start to cry
watch your steps right out the door

nothing's easy, we want more
easiness, yet it's a lie
there's a thumbtack on the floor

this is life, it's what's in store
just in dreams your safety lies
watch your steps right out the door

avoid the thumbtack or you'll roar
ouch, it hurts, I think I'll die
there's a thumbtack on the floor

we would rather jump and soar
leave the ground and reach the sky
watch your steps right out the door

we're earthbound forever more
till the very day we die
there's a thumbtack on the floor
watch your steps right out the door

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

the baby's crawling now, hooray

the baby's crawling now, hooray
he's crawled right out the door
we feared we'd never see the day

much time has passed, he's been delayed
we knew not what had laid in store
the baby's crawling now, hooray

with all his faults we couldn't say
if he'd stop lying on the floor
we feared we'd never see the day

and prayed that he would find the way
now mommy has a brand new chore
the baby's crawling now, hooray

she'll have to chase the kid away
from things that cut and bump and more
we feared we'd never see the day

but now we know he'll be okay
he'll crawl and walk and run and more
the baby's crawling now, hooray
we feared we'd never see the day

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

The farmer bought a brand new roomy house

The farmer bought a brand new roomy house,
but found a problem he could not relieve;
he went to great lengths to remove a mouse.

He bought a cat to chase after the mouse,
and when it did, the cat would just not leave.
The farmer bought a brand new roomy house,

with that old cat and that old dirty mouse,
he bought a dog to make that old cat leave.
He went to great lengths to remove a mouse.

And when the dog chased kitty from the house,
the dog remained around and would not leave.
The farmer bought a brand new roomy house,

with dog and cat and stubborn dirty mouse,
he bought a lion, chased the dog to leave.
He went to great lengths to remove a mouse.

The elephant chased lion from the house,
but farmer brought the mouse to make it leave.
The farmer bought a brand new roomy house,
he went to great lengths to remove a mouse.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

*inspired by a very funny old Looney Tunes cartoon.

you've sworn to fight my battle, win my war

you've sworn to fight my battle, win my war
that is your job, it's what you're known to do
yet I'll raise up my sword and forge to fore

you've heard my cries for help, and by your lore
you've sworn to meet the challenge through and through
you've sworn to fight my battle, win my war

yet there's a doubt within me, what you swore
has yet to come about, though I implore
yet I'll raise up my sword and forge to fore

first battle, almost won, it needed more
and now I seek you out, what shall you do?
you've sworn to fight my battle, win my war

and now that I request you give me more
oh, wherefore art thou, I am vexxed so sore
now I'll raise up my sword and forge to fore

you've failed and fallen hard upon the floor
you're lax, disloyal, I won't fight as you
you've sworn to fight my battle, win my war
yet I'll raise up my sword and forge to fore

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

in those old black and white films

in those old black and white films always they
young greeks in modest dress and old attire
all sang and danced with passion hearts full splayed

late 50's early 60's romance played
defining culture with old songs on fire
in those old black and white films always they

danced back and forth in conversations say,
of simple subjects, unrequitted love required,
all sang and danced with passion hearts full splayed

oh simple songs, not found around today,
how different old Greece is from new, inspired,
in those old black and white films always they

brought life to screen, not screen to life as they
all do today and think it's heaven's pyre,
all sang and danced with passion hearts full splayed

where have those simple times gone, where?  today
they're hidden in old celluloid so tired,
in those old black and white films always they
all sang and danced with passion hearts full splayed

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

so quietly i sit and strain to hear

so quietly i sit and strain to hear
before his door, where always there was sound
no sound comes from that room, no one is here

all nightmares end, the waking ends the fear
in hopes it was a dream, he's still around
so quietly i sit and strain to hear

yet this worst nightmare's permanent I fear
his absent voice does haunt me all around
no sound comes from that room, no one is here

most harsh denial, darting eyes now leer
to catch a glimpse of him, a sighing sound
so quietly i sit and strain to hear

the things we covet pale before the mere
vibrations--sound and life, now nowhere found
no sound comes from that room, no one is here

the present sounds are sobbings, burning tears
the former sounds are hushed, deep underground
so quietly i sit and strain to hear
no sound comes from that room, no one is here

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

there is a lengthy space surrounding me

there is a lengthy space surrounding me
a radius the length of single arm
that isolates my soul from all i see

i am an island in the midst of sea
to separate my soul from any harm
there is a lengthy space surrounding me

i'm buffered from the hordes rejecting me
it might be called a gift, a special charm
that isolates my soul from all i see

my blessing is a curse that's spat on me
for when I seek another's soul as warm
there is a lengthy space surrounding me

and where I'd like to go I cannot be
my buffer zone's a barren empty farm
that isolates my soul from all i see

there once were people dancing 'round with me
yet something shooed away the loving swarm
there is a lengthy space surrounding me
that isolates my soul from all i see

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

so much to say, the audience away

so much to say, the audience away,
i'm left with open mouth, no words come out
no one to hear, from me he's torn away

left speechless, open mouthed but every day
caught in the throat, my trouble's all about
so much to say, the audience away

he cannot hear from where he lay
and though i come so close and shout
no one to hear, from me he's torn away

transmission's stopped, reception's frayed
our circuit's broken, our live wire's torn out
so much to say, the audience away,

my frantic search around it shows no way
to reconnect, for this is not allowed
no one to hear, from me he's torn away

my agony's displayed in skies so gray
unfinished words will never more come out,
so much to say, the audience away,
no one to hear, from me he's torn away

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

I'm stuffed up and I can't breathe any more

I'm stuffed up and I can't breathe any more.
The doctor can't prescribe a single cure.
No medicine can heal this aching sore.

My ailing throat's the center, near the core,
a thrush of alphabetic phlegm, for sure.
I'm stuffed up and I can't breathe any more,

not like I used to breath, that time's no more,
when my chest's passageway was clear and pure.
No medicine can heal this aching sore,

this bottleneck jammed up against the door-
way of my throat, where words are lured.
I'm stuffed up and I can't breathe any more.

The root cause is the heart, this is the core,
where heartburn's sulfur singe, far from demure,
that medicine can't heal this aching sore.

I need to speak to him, yet he no more
can hear, and I no longer can endure.
I'm stuffed up and I can't breathe any more.
No medicine can heal this aching sore.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

The vapor trails across the starry sky

The vapor trails across the starry sky,
they seem to span the universe but they
mislead my aching heart, my searching eye.

Like rainbow's end, if only there could I
locate that pot of gold, I'd surely spray
the vapor trails across the starry sky,

to find again the one for whom I cry,
yet always hopeful dreams in words I say
mislead my aching heart, my searching eye.

Without a pot of gold, or any prize,
the floating road may yet still lead the way.
Oh, vapor trails across the starry sky,

if I could follow, would you be close by
to my brother? My mind, now gone astray,
misleads my aching heart, my searching eye.

Now as I stare above, with blurring eyes,
night winds have blown the vapor trails away.
The vapor trails across the starry sky,
mislead my aching heart, my searching eye.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

We think the other side's behind a veil

We think the other side's behind a veil,
if only we could pull it back we'd see.
We look for curtains, all to no avail.

If it were but a place, we'd send them mail,
those who once were yet could no longer be.
We think the other side's behind a veil,

and seek the port from where their boat has sailed,
a thinly woven sheen of tapestry,
and look for curtains, all to no avail.

The veil pulls back only when life derails,
yet even then the naked eye can't see.
We think the other side's behind a veil,

with thread-woven bars of the carnal jail,
where once released, we'd pass over the sea.
We look for curtains, all to no avail,

for it is not a place, and so we fail.
The other side's a different state of being.
We think the other side's behind a veil.
We look for curtains, all to no avail.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

His mouth, it sings a very nasty song

His mouth, it sings a very nasty song,
it tells of an opinion, not a fact,
it poisons minds, whose lyrics are all wrong.

He said to keep it secret, tell the throng
nothing, and to be mindful, strict with tact.
His mouth, it sings a very nasty song,

now that I've kept the distance stretched and long,
he's gone against me, broke the silent pact.
It poisons minds, whose lyrics are all wrong,

whose singer kept me silent, so his song
would be the only music shown as fact.
His mouth, it sings a very nasty song,

the secret he has shouted with a gong,
to hammer in his view, his wild attack,
it poisons minds, whose lyrics are all wrong.

Yet I have yet to show him I am strong,
expose his puppet show, his phony act.
His mouth, it sings a very nasty song,
it poisons minds, whose lyrics are all wrong.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

Let's brace ourselves for when the dollar falls

Let's brace ourselves for when the dollar falls,
the crash, so loud, will deafen every ear,
except for gold collectors, not at all.

The State's great intervention will just stall
inevitable ruin, causing fear:
Let's brace ourselves for when the dollar falls:

the fiat currency ain't worth a ball
of rubber bands; we'll all be sheared,
except for gold collectors, not at all.

The government is printing with a thrall,
devaluing the paper; doom is near:
Let's brace ourselves for when the dollar falls:

as dollar shortens, gold gets very tall,
still buys the same per ounce in every year.
Except for gold collectors, not at all

will dollar holders heed the call
of Austrian's most wise and correct seers.
Let's brace ourselves for when the dollar falls,
except for gold collectors, not at all.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

The baby's guardian is Saint Ephraim

The baby's guardian is Saint Ephraim,
whose arms do glow with Holy Spirit, strong.
His name he's given, who belongs to Him.

Despite the odds, where overcoming them
are low, odds for a normal life are long,
the baby's guardian is Saint Ephraim,

and odds have raised up high because of Him,
where things are righted which had started wrong.
His name he's given, who belongs to Him.

The baby wakes at night and coos a hymn,
while staring into space and laughing strong.
The baby's guardian is Saint Ephraim.

Who else might baby gurgle at but Him,
and angels all around him with their song?
His name he's given, who belongs to Him.

His needed treatments, those refused to him,
he's gotten, will get more before too long.
The baby's guardian is Saint Ephraim.
His name he's given, who belongs to Him.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

I wanted once upon a time to be

I wanted once upon a time to be
a special person, loved, someone to you
important, now I'm important to me.

It was a craving deep inside of me,
I thought myself a no one, just like you
I wanted once upon a time to be.

This need was all I felt, all I could see,
within the eyes of others through and through
important, now I'm important to me.

The change was radical, and for a fee
I then exchanged myself for someone new.
I wanted once upon a time to be

a someone else, yet not these folks you see.
I am me, worriless, now I eschew
importance, now I'm important to me.

No longer do I care for what you see.
I care for me, not for your point of view.
I wanted once upon a time to be
important, now I'm important to me.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

The men compete for ladies' hearts

The men compete for ladies' hearts, the chasing's done by men,
for alpha men are hunters, to the victors go the spoils.
The ladies aren't used to having men rejecting them.

It's rare when women turn around, to chase and hunt down men.
It's rare, an oddity, for "fairer sex" to take this toil.
The men compete for ladies' hearts, the chasing's done by men.

And when, upon this rarity, she hunts, approaches him,
and, as again a rarity, the man rejects, she's foiled,
the ladies aren't used to having men rejecting them.

The female ego, spoiled by admiration, cracks and then
she whips around to him, attacks his manhood as she roils,
"The men compete for ladies' hearts, the chasing's done by men!"

"You're not a real manly man, you're not among the men!"
He cowers if it's true, or if it's false he'll just recoil,
"The ladies aren't used to having men rejecting them.

"Get used to it. The rooster doesn't always want the hen!
As women, you're accustomed to our cravings and you're spoiled!"
The men compete for ladies' hearts, the chasing's done by men.
The ladies aren't used to having men rejecting them.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

They do know better, so they tell such lies

The State says markets must be stabilized,
without the government the world would end.
They do know better, so they tell such lies.

The markets fluctuate, they realize,
the ups and downs are proof--unstable trends,
the State says, markets must be stabilized.

The Marxists and Keynesians obliged
to state against the laws that truth defends.
They do know better, so they tell such lies.

Could they be all mistaken, men of size
and stature whose great minds all comprehend?
The State says markets must be stabilized,

and State economists do all realize
without State power, what for them portends?
They do know better, so they tell such lies.

They're willing to perpetuate the lies,
though markets do work best without their friends.
The State says markets must be stabilized.
They do know better, so they tell such lies.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

until the world has liberty no more

The future will be filled with endless war,
with battles in the name of liberty,
until the world has liberty no more.

The empire is a drunken power whore,
who'll feed on nations till they're all empty.
The future will be filled with endless war,

and even though from war the world is sore,
the world expects more of the Whore to see,
until the world has liberty no more.

Into the hearts of nations she will gore,
not one she'll spare, not one from her could flee.
The future will be filled with endless war,

each one supposed to end another war,
not one remaining nation will be free,
until the world has liberty no more.

She'll force her liberty (who is it for?),
dictating to the world how to be free.
The future will be filled with endless war,
until the world has liberty no more.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

If I were worth what others think I am

If I were worth what others think I am,
if it were left up to their silly whim,
I'd be a crumpled paper in a can,

crushed to a little ball inside the hand
of one or of another lady prim.
If I were worth what others think I am,

I'd never truly know where I do stand,
inside, outside or balanced on the rim,
I'd be a crumpled paper in a can.

Today I'm worth parades and marching bands,
tomorrow my life would be torn from limb,
if I were worth what others think I am.

Yet there's a pattern flowing through that grand
and all-majestic viewpoint on the whim--
I'd be a crumpled paper in a can,

though I might first appear a promised land,
I'll always be a desert next to "him".
If I were worth what others think I am,
I'd be a crumpled paper in a can.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

promises like air

promises like air lift up my soul as I inflate
to meet high expectations of the promises they make
promises like air depress me down when I deflate

acknowledging as myth that I could insofar debate
as I have always dreamed that I could pull up all my stakes
promises like air lift up my soul as I inflate

yet when I yank them from the ground I find that it's too late
I'm snagged and all the ropes that hold me will refuse to break
promises like air depress me down when I deflate

the hopes that floated me are inspirations I create
upon those broken promises resulting in my ache
promises like air lift up my soul as I inflate

yet distances do change and all the things I calculate
change with them, leaving me insane, a bird inside a crate
promises like air depress me down when I deflate

they limit me when I decide to full accelerate
and when I choose a speed to fly I'm always forced to brake
promises like air lift up my soul as I inflate
promises like air depress me down when I deflate

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

Oh, where has all the time gone, where?

Oh, where has all the time gone, where?
It's flown away, I'm left behind.
Remembering them all, I stare,

I watch the different styles of hair,
the clothes, the friends, some cruel, some kind.
Oh, where has all the time gone, where?

The times, like voices, are not there,
not anymore, they're hard to find.
Remembering them all, I stare

so stupefied into the air,
as if I could reach out and bind.
Oh, where has all the time gone, where?

The places, physically are there,
their spirit's gone, their eyes as blind.
Remembering them all, I stare,

I see but I can't touch, like air,
can't grasp, my teeth I grind.
Oh, where has all the time gone, where?
Remembering them all, I stare.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

winter always changes into spring

in winter most will long for long-gone spring,
as snow white beards and sickness drain on life,
yet winter always changes into spring

when budding, from which scents of freshness spring,
bursts forth in colored lushness, breathing life
in winter most will long for long-gone spring,

in longing for that loving, long-lost thing
we mourn as gone, a passed up part of life,
yet winter always changes into spring

we may not be around to view such thing
our winter may be cut down with a Knife,
in winter most will long for long-gone spring,

yet whether we endure and close the ring
or lose it all as one departs a wife
yet winter always changes into spring

it all snaps back, as an elastic string
continuing the waves of ease and strife
in winter most will long for long-gone spring,
yet winter always changes into spring

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

I die every night

I die, I die every night,
ground down until thinly worn,
in his battle's losing fight.

His face always in my sight,
before the breath from flesh was shorn,
I die, I die every night.

Wrought with valor, fought with might,
clung he did till he was torn,
in his battle's losing fight.

Recalling days of summer's light,
remembering when he was born,
I die, I die every night,

heart crushed down it bleeds contrite,
time was spent, we needed more.
In his battle's losing fight,

prayed we, teared we, scratched we. Bite
my throat, distract this burning sore!
I die, i die every night,
in his battle's losing fight.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

do not lie down and die before your time

do not lie down and die before your time
as long as you're above ground be around
for dying while still living is a crime

no matter what its state life is sublime
if only 'cause it's not beneath a mound
do not lie down and die before your time

for life itself is neither yours nor mine
but borrowed from the ones to whom we're bound
and dying while still living is a crime

one day death will complete your life's own rhyme
though searched for it is hard pressed to be found
do not lie down and die before your time

for death shuts down the workings of the spine
you'll neither make nor listen to a sound
and dying while still living is a crime

and life itself is given as a sign
that we've been loved, and we should stick around
do not lie down and die before your time
for dying while still living is a crime

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

Correct me if I'm wrong

Correct me if I'm wrong,
I'd be a humming sound
if life was but a song.

Of course it isn't wrong
to be a humming sound.
Correct me if I'm wrong,

my life's just not that strong.
While operas abound,
if life were but a song,

mine wouldn't be too long,
with difficulty found,
correct me if I'm wrong.

To few I have belonged.
I'd sing of love not found,
if life were but a song.

I've never had a throng
of fans that stick around.
Correct me if I'm wrong,
if life were but a song.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

Before I sleep away

Before I sleep away
the night, let's stay awake,
I'd really like to play.

So many things to say,
I'd like to say I spake,
before I sleep away.

So is it yay or nay?
Before the hot-bed lake,
I'd really like to play,

awhile longer to stay,
make life more real, less fake,
before I sleep away.

Not meaning I should stray,
just have a little cake.
I'd really like to play,

before I go away,
live here, for heaven's sake.
Before I sleep away,
I'd really like to play.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

The girl was cursed with swarms of flies

The girl was cursed with swarms of flies,
that hovered around the breath of her mouth,
whenever her lips spoke words of lies.

It happened suddenly, to her surprise,
on a family trip through the South.
The girl was cursed with swarms of flies,

that zig-zagged around before her eyes,
and accrued when her darkened breath came out,
whenever her lips spoke words of lies.

She'd promised an honest way to her guys,
with fingers crossed and lips that pout.
The girl was cursed with swarms of flies,

now none of her lies she could disguise.
They hovered around like dogs to a spout,
whenever her lips spoke words of lies.

Not sure which one, but one of her guys,
got tired of eating her words as if grout.
The girl was cursed with swarms of flies,
whenever her lips spoke words of lies.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

I'd always wanted to fly

I'd always wanted to fly,
since I was born, it filled me with glee,
but now I fear that I may certainly die.

I used to sit there and sigh,
as I looked up past tops of trees,
I'd always wanted to fly.

One day I fell from up high,
and broke my joy a certain degree,
and now I fear that I may certainly die,

if finding myself in the sky,
we drop like rocks, and broken we'll be.
I'd always wanted to fly,

with wings (no struggle to try),
go places all over the world and see,
but now I fear that I may certainly die.

And now those tears in my eyes,
like I from planes, from dreaming they flee.
I'd always wanted to fly,
but now I fear that I may certainly die.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos