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