In the past I used to say
God, take my headaches away
Now, I say thank you for tribulation
Because you've proven to me that I can overcome them
I used to ask
Remove the impossible people from my life path
The ones I don't want to deal with
Now I say thank you for those idiots
For they have sharpened my senses
I now recognise a foolish person by their shadow
And though we sometimes wish to be young again
We'd never want to be foolish again
And the greatest gift one can obtain is wisdom

Red telephone
Next to my bed
How I wish you would ring
A voice on the other side
Smiling with sweet surprise
Red telephone
There were days you were my lifeline
I could dial and speak for hours
Though nobody was there
Just to speak without interruption
Red telephone
Why are you so silent
I'm waiting for that signal
To make-believe that someone is listening ... somebody cares
Red telephone
You ring no more
You've closed the door
The line has been cut
And I pretend no more ...

Oh beloved country
Why do I cry for you
I have been told this is not my home
But how can this be
When I was born on your very soil
Country of division
The cry of the wild
Can we not sing one song
Sing in unison
Like a dry, barren and cracked piece of earth
We long for rain
Hungry for peace
And a reign without prejudice
Where all men are equal
And we **** no more
The ground has seeped up all the spilt blood
It has kept record of every innocent life lost
Until one day it will offer up the dead
And every sword shall be held accountable

Oh the politician of our day
We practice equality is what they say
But their works don't match their words
To pose as little gods
But to hold no real power
Spin tactics is their game
To win your vote is their aim
While a desperate nation's voice is silenced
Millions of promises are forsaken
Like accumulated rubble on the streets
Working to live ... Living to work
Until one day a line shall be drawn across the sky
And all the demigods shall assuredly die
They shall be planted like trees ... But not to grow
Remembered no more
Tombstones covered in bird droppings
As a new horizon awaits
Where all the little gods of our time will be washed away
And the real God shall arise
There shall be no need for substitute little gods
For the true God, the real God shall be with us

Cracked
I thought you were perfect
Thought you were the final ingredient to making my life complete ... perfect!
Only to find that you were cracked
Yes, flawed!
At first I wanted to cast you away
Then came a rude awakening
I discovered something about myself
I found that I was cracked too
That the perfection I was seeking was driven by the imperfection in me  
I was seeking my own wholeness in you
Yet I am flawed
Yet I am cracked
Perfection now holds a different meaning
The right imperfection makes perfect
And we all need some of that imperfect perfectness

S. Achilleos
June 20th, 2020

This is not just a tangible cold
But a chill in the heart
To say goodbye and love from afar
For the very one you held so dear
Became the root cause of many a fear
One never knows you're in the eye of the storm
Until you escape and look back
From the other side of the mirror
Things have now become clear
Uproot and cast away
The naysayers who sowed pitfalls in your way
Yet bid such not a bitter farewell
For hiding underneath that glossy shell
Unveiled a serpent you thought you knew so well

Sean Achilleos
April 4th, 2020

Sometimes the one closest to you is your biggest enemy...

The Owls are Watching

In memory of Helen Martins
'The Owl House'
Nieu Bethesda, South Africa

In sculpture and rock rested your art
Cement faces that speak volumes
Of emotions and tales untold
As mysterious as your life itself
Glittering walls of crushed glass
That shone by candlelight
Outside of art you were branded
Though remembered as unique and ahead of your time
With big glass eyes the owls watch the world
What was once your sanctuary
Now a showcase to the world
Recognized at last
Unspeakable loneliness of a soul misunderstood
Now your handwritten letters are framed and displayed for all to read
But you don't mind the curiosity of mankind
With cement hands raised to the heavens facing the east
You drank your chosen cup
Your Mecca now complete

Written by Sean Achilleos
28 March 2016©

How this poem came about:

I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.

One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".

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