without her this here heart it rots away

without her this here heart it rots away
the cure for this disease is not now known
the grave it stumbles closer day by day

the days of laughter in the sun and play
have left with my dear flesh, i'm down to bone
without her this here heart it rots away

she was my life, alas! she couldn't stay
i'm ready, eyelids already been sown
the grave it stumbles closer day by day

i never thought i'd see another day
when once again she'd bury me like stone
without her this here heart it rots away

the skies above will never change from grey
for love is life, its breath has all been blown
the grave it stumbles closer day by day

while all things come to life in May
i'll sleep on still and never be regrown
without her this here heart it rots away
the grave it stumbles closer day by day

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

now there's a secret haunting my dear soul

now there's a secret haunting my dear soul
i won't expose, the world will never know
it vanished, swallowed in my darkened hole

the days transparency was my clear role
have gone, will not return here anymore
now there's a secret haunting my dear soul

so black, it's darkened me like dirty coal
fell in upon itself with mighty roar
it vanished, swallowed in my darkened hole

and those who know me worry 'bout this mole
that blemished the purity they adore
now there's a secret haunting my dear soul

and all with eyes have seen it's taken toll
upon my face, and every day some more
it vanished, swallowed in my darkened hole

so that not one can make me once more whole
i used to walk so freely through the door
now there's a secret haunting my dear soul
it vanished, swallowed in my darkened hole

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

you said you would return in just a bit

you said you would return in just a bit
and so I waited for you patiently
for seven heavy hours I did sit

you didn't think to honestly admit
your other plans which did not include me
you said you would return in just a bit

and i assumed a fiteen minute flit
still dressed, by window sill, so i could see
for seven heavy hours I did sit

your smile did not my angry mood befit
when finally you called to visit me
you said you would return in just a bit

and in a bit you came, you said, with wit,
and what's a bit to you, dear, honestly?
for seven heavy hours I did sit

and now, at midnight, huffing in a fit
i tear off day-long clothes disgustingly!
you said you would return in just a bit
for seven heavy hours I did sit

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

incomprehensible the mortal change

incomprehensible the mortal change
all there before, not here again no more
from what one was to what he's now, so strange

ineffable enough to make a soul deranged
what once walked round now lies beneath the floor
incomprehensible the mortal change

the flesh that lived, now from its bone's estranged
shut down, broken, he's slipped past coffin's door
from what one was to what he's now, so strange

alternative to fate can'tbe arranged
my heart and mind has been an open sore
incomprehensible the mortal change

all that made him so him now's rearranged
can't be that him without the flesh he bore
from what one was to what he's now, so strange

there is no gold on Earth to make exchange
return, undo, make him how was before
incomprehensible the mortal change
from what one was to what he's now, so strange

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

your voice has been a silence now four years

your voice has been a silence now four years
your laughter's echo's passed to memory
and on this day I shed my silent tears

they  trail down cheeks, these tears I do not steer
no words are said, pretending not to see
your voice has been a silence now four years

a gaze, then eyes stare down among your peers
at feet not there where one good friend should be
and on this day I shed my silent tears

and four years past that day of horrid fears
recalling dreaded day with clarity
your voice has been a silence now four years

oh how can it have been so soon four years?
in silence contemplating what I see
and on this day I shed my silent tears

if decibels could injure normal ears
how much more your silence does deafen me
your voice has been a silence now four years
and on this day I shed my silent tears

6:59 PM 6/27/2010

since he has left there's been much contemplation

since he has left there's been much contemplation
regarding things I cannot comprehend
the silent dark of my own destination

the afterwards defying comprehension
that place we go, eternity to spend
since he has left there's been much contemplation

my reasoning is met with much frustration
to overcome my mind must learn to bend
the silent dark of my own destination

cannot be verified by observation
examination ceases past one's end
since he has left there's been much contemplation

the memories of him are veneration
my thoughts, to shreds my heart, do always rend
the silent dark of my own destination

has now become my full-time occupation
no one returns from death where life does send
since he has left there's been much contemplation
the silent dark of my own destination

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

that Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetrated

that Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetrated
the blade's removed yet its cold steel remains
our spirit's gone, our breaths remain abated

upon us both the crime's been perpetrated
and though the blade is marked with just his stains
that Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetrated

his essence from my own's been dislocated
my life remains with only his remains
our spirit's gone, our breaths remain abated

my soul's been scraped, upon my thoughts' been grated
his blood powdered, mixed with my tears, i'm stained
that Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetrated

and as grief's torments whip my heart striated
all joy swirls round and round a filthy drain
our spirit's gone, our breaths remain abated

i frame my memories,they're venerated
as cries repeat in minor key refrains
that Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetrated
our spirit's gone, our breaths remain abated

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

Heartburn

i've searched the world but there is not a cure
to end the suffering that tortures me
my life is burning to a char for sure

i'll burn until no more i can endure
and slither to the bottom of the sea
i've searched the world but there is not a cure

a heartburn sears my heart for ever more
this dragon i've become is all i see
my life is burning to a char for sure

with flaming breath i singe the wooden door
a broken heart has splintered all of me
i've searched the world but there is not a cure

just one small grave like his i am assured
i scream and burn my lips, i cannot flee
my life is burning to a char for sure

untainted by a mix this pain is pure
unrivaled by a similarity
i've searched the world but there is not a cure
my life is burning to a char for sure

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

for years he tried to share his past with me

for years he tried to share his past with me
yet i rejected it for fleeting things
he's old, his past is now a memory

he showed me life back then so frequently
with all the joy that such recalling brings
for years he tried to share his past with me

today he hardly says a word to me
of bygone days' most beauty-filled old things
he's old, his past is now a memory

i now have left behind the things that flee
appreciate the old like golden rings
for years he tried to share his past with me

he sees my change and wonders curiously
why I would care how great old timers sing
he's old, his past is now a memory

he's grown apart from what he used to be
now who's to say whose eyes now feel more sting
for years he tried to share his past with me
he's old, his past is now a memory

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

the gears keep turning round and round and round

the gears keep turning round and round and round

been trapped between the cogs well since that day

my aching bones into a dust are ground

within grief's pain machine I can be found

pulled slowly through this single path and way

the gears keep turning round and round and round

if only memories were small and round

i'd squeeze by teeth with some little leeway

my aching bones into a dust are ground

for memories are great, greater beat down

compressed, for every extra inch I pay

the gears keep turning round and round and round

remembering my brother's death, tears drown

my lungs with agony but every day

my aching bones into a dust are ground

my flesh has left with his without a sound

i'm trapped inside, I'll never get away

the gears keep turning round and round and round

my aching bones into a dust are ground

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

i hold within, my treasured memories

i hold within, my treasured memories
inside my private treasure chest, my brain
one day they'll be dispersed into the breeze

and though the pictures faded in degrees
their value's grown as wheat grows from the grain
i hold within, my treasured memories

i'll always view them when i turn the keys
that play the moving pictures frame by frame
one day they'll be dispersed into the breeze

for i live but an hour despite my pleas
until the day they melt and turn to stains
i hold within, my treasured memories

he's now a whispered wind among the trees
who lives only in pictures deep ingrained
one day they'll be dispersed into the breeze

this treasure chest will join them as a frieze
and my pictures will haunt another's brain
i hold within, my treasured memories
one day they'll be dispersed into the breeze

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

the good struggle, their souls are always tested

the good struggle, their souls are always tested

temptation pierces flesh down to the bone

the bad are fine, their minds already bested

their foreheads burnt with mark so crimson crested

the difference 'tween the two is overblown

the good struggle, their souls are always tested

and guilt weighs heavy 'pon those fallen chested

humility runs rampant, always shown

the bad are fine, their minds already bested

feeling contempt for them, the good detested

the sinful seeds they've planted become grown

the good struggle, their souls are always tested

eating their tears, their guilt is full ingested

in prayers tearing, pleading with their moans

the bad are fine, their minds already bested

so unaware their souls have been digested

the devil will pursue those not his own

the good struggle, their souls are always tested

the bad are fine, their minds already bested

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

Today we're free

Today we're free,

to speak our mind--

of liberty,

came this decree,

from years behind.

Today we're free!

As most can see,

the violent minds--

of liberty,

go on their spree,

commit their crimes.

Today we're free,

but to stay free,

we'll change in time,

this liberty--

for security--

we'll leave behind.

Today we're free

of liberty.

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

a man can't strike a woman

a man can't strike a woman, I don't care
what she has done, a man should know his place,
this rule evens the score and makes it fair,

for every bloated muscle he could bare,
a smaller one hides under frilly lace,
a man can't strike a woman, I don't care,

oh she can scratch his eyes and rip his hair
in anger, taunt his manhood to his face,
this rule evens the score and makes it fair,

and even if she dares and double-dares
that he should strike her back, it'd be disgrace,
a man can't strike a woman, I don't care,

he's burdened with much extra strength to spare,
society has limited his space,
this rule evens the score and makes it fair,

imagine how she'd hesitate, beware
of freely striking him without this ace?
a man can't strike a woman, I don't care,
this rule evens the score and makes it fair

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

there is a place I go to be alone

there is a place I go to be alone
just name the spot and you will see me there
whenever I'm awake my heart does groan

in times when agony is over shown
among the crowd I stand with silent stare
there is a place I go to be alone

it's here and there and every place I've known
it's every day of years we've lived and shared
whenever I'm awake my heart does groan

and when my grief is steaming, overblown
that well-sought comfort, it is found nowhere
there is a place I go to be alone

atop, under, amidst the crowds I've flown
ignored by masses who could never care
whenever I'm awake my heart does groan

that one voice, missing, shouts from out its bone
within my head it's never left me there
there is a place I go to be alone
whenever I'm awake my heart does groan

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic

Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic,

for Christians blame Christ's Crucifixion squarely on the Jews.

How simple life must be to the uneducated critic,

decrying, Christians persecuted Jews and always hid it,

with angry rage they paid back what they thought were rightful dues!

Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic,

yet Jews deny they persecuted Christians--won't admit it,

for in their eyes the only victims--ever--could be Jews.

How simple life must be to the uneducated critic!

Though twenty million perished, all the victims looked Hasidic,

the Holocaust was all about the mere six million Jews.

Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic.

It was the Romans drove the spikes, fed vinegar acidic,

yet Roman Catholics won't pagan Roman names abuse.

How simple life must be to the uneducated critic!

The sacrifice of Jesus Christ was done by God's own Edict.

Before all time He knew the time and method He would choose.

Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic.

How simple life must be to the uneducated critic.

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

my memory was once a fleshy man

my memory was once a fleshy man

who lived and did the things that I recall

a man can turn into a thought, he can

one day, upon this change, there'll be a ban

yet for the time we'll change upon the call

my memory was once a fleshy man

it's hard to grasp how man can be no man

into an afterthought he'll trip and fall

a man can turn into a thought, he can

as chicken simmers in a frying pan

the flesh translates in time in lasting thrall

my memory was once a fleshy man

who lived under the summer sun and tanned,

then slept under the leaves of autumn's fall

a man can turn into a thought, he can

yet life could somewhat go on if a man

remembers him, explicitly recalled,

my memory was once a fleshy man

a man can turn into a thought, he can

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

I write you letters since we speak no more

I write you letters, since we speak no more--
a thought, a feeling, written once a day,
my letters grow in piles before your door,

since your departure, I have missed you more,
and more with every single passing day,
I write you letters, since we speak no more,

your absence makes my heart much more adore
what filled your current void, I've much to say--
my letters grow in piles before your door,

from habit, all the daily news I store,
and wait until the chance when I can say,
I write you letters, since we speak no more,

yet why do I?  There is no reason for
the writings I embark on every day--
my letters grow in piles before your door,

The plot-keepers refuse to ever more
place letters on your now much settled grave,
I write you letters, since we speak no more,
my letters grow in piles before your door

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

Dark and Dreadful Woods

In the darkest dark the world has ever known,

I walk toward my fate with head held high,

Although I smile I feel dread in my bones.

I know they are there I can hear them moan,

My courage is strong I stand like a rock,

In the darkest dark the world has ever known.

My life has led me into this dark zone,

I am fearful of what lies in the dark,

Although I smile I feel dread in my bones.

I hear a raven squall like some old crone,

It alone understands mens foolish trials,

In the darkest dark the world has ever known.

I'm up for the task true grit I have shone.

What lies before me is why I have come.

Although I smile I feel dread in my bones.

I feel young, but I am a full grown man,

I trod on to meet this sinister test,

In the darkest dark the world has ever known,

Although I smile I feel dread in my bones.

©January 20, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Winter Villanelle

Winter hour reflections grow

Like ripples in a darkening pool

The lost and loved of long ago

Circle above the black winged crow

Winding out the memory spool

Winter hour reflections grow

For what it was she thought to know

Come skating through the icy cool

The lost and loved of long ago

Bone tree bare December’s glow

Keeper of the fable jewel

Her winter hour reflections grow

And leave their footprints in the snow

Songs of silence muffle cruel

The lost and loved of long ago

Flames that dance coal caverns blow

In the fire of dreaming’s fuel

Her winter hour reflections grow

The lost and loved of long ago

(C)2010, Avril Joy