last night I took a stroll within a dream,
a slow procession through the dirt path aisles,
within her cemetery's mindful stream,
in search of my name carved in stone or tiles,

i'd almost missed the marker to my grave,
cold winds half-covered with forgetfulness,
no epigram was carved to hold and save
my memory, entombed in nothingness,

two bookend dates to mark my history--
when we were born and when we died in love--
my name, two words containing all of me,
a marker quite unseen from up above,

now from this stroll i've surely learned a lot,
to not inquire of what her mind's forgot

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

when they move on they never look behind,
determined eyes seek only what's ahead,
and those they've left behind are left for dead,
their memory does every heel step grind,

so no old fiber to their thought can bind,
and to alleviate that awful dread,
which weighs upon the heart like heavy lead,
they hum the olden song of auld lang syne,

and those they've left behind for some odd sin,
who long for, are deprived of, one last kiss,
and haunt their memories with dreadful sigh,

forgotten for they've surely never been,
no more in recollections do exist,
they shrivel as a memory and die

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

I often stare into the sky at shadows on the moon,
with my attention fullest on the days of the full moon.

Discerning craters, mountains on its dusty pockmarked face,
that glows when sun stares winking flares upon the blushing moon.

I squint to find the waveless flag, the rover parked somewhere,
discarded by the shiny humans come to greet the moon.

Her light gives sight so subtle as to soothe and not disturb
circadians whose radians are rhythms of the moon.

Tree silhouettes' slow pirouettes sway by the summer breeze,
bathed in the sun's own afterglow under the watchful moon.

Imagining the lunacy of werewolves in the night
who, bathed in glow, to dogs they go a howling at the moon.

While all around the nightsong sounds in symphony they croon
the ballades of the wonder of the lighted sky queen moon.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

Oh, woe!  Oh, woe!  Oh, woe, my girl has died!
Her funeral's tonight, oh, how I grieve!
I knew this day would come, I would not hide,
yet as the news has come, I can't believe!

A strong and faithful servant she had been,
who carried me when I was found alone.
She promised to stand by my side till in
the course of time my flesh would leave its bone.

In white attire she'll lay within the cask,
as my old marriage laid within the same.
I'll pour my soul as spirit from a flask,
upon her sleeping face and call her name:

Oh Hope, dear Hope, you've left me far too soon,
and joined my former wife in honeymoon.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

Presumptuous to speak the obvious?
If only what we see is not as such.
Then all presumptions truly weigh not much.
Investigations make demands of us.

With every word the world is on to us.
Their weight of stares requires of us a crutch,
analysis of meanings and of such,
until of reasonings they empty us.

No man lies naked splayed before strange eyes.
He wears the clothing made in current style,
to give illusion pleasing to the world.

And so the world peels back the layered lies,
and lays them in a neatly gentle pile,
until the truth of man is full unfurled.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

Through purple-greyish smoke billowed from lips both mine and yours,
our eyes glazed, blacklight seen reflecting on our silver ores.

Dark purple painted walls with red designs keep calm the folks
on leather couches billowing with eyes like silver ores.

Oh you and I, the strangers here, all have our many reasons,
some came with them, some made them here, eyes glazed like silver ores.

An Artificial Reason calms our minds in this Mad Season,
crucified on G-clef staff, eyes glazed like silver ores.

This sanctuary, whispered 'round, and found through word of mouth,
somewhere, we've all forgotten in the glaze of silver ores.

Our therapy, if long or short, time counted by the songs,
recovery is measured by the glaze of silver ores.

As one leaves so another comes, replacing on the couch,
the glaze of one with glaze of other's eyes like silver ores.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

The lips conjure the trinity which can be heard, not seen,
which hands may manifest to eyes what ears have heard, not seen.

The lips beget belief so faith may be what it's not been,
until the hands may work that faith may see what's yet unseen.

The trinity, no man may see, composed of just three words,
enters into the darkness of the heart which none have seen.

"I love you," radiant, divides the dark of night from day,
the corners of the heart, illuminated, then are seen.

The trinity, by lips conjured, embue a godly breath
into the breast of one long dead, the miracle is seen.

Though life begins, it too must end, eventual the death,
if hands then fail to manifest the trinity, unseen.

But if the hands bring forth the words to prove them to the heart,
then death is thwarted, life remains and paradise is seen.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

Like cotton puffs of white the clouds float by on cyan skies,
the lamb fur hassock of the angels praying in the skies.

Their occupancy hidden but for subtle clues for eyes,
a shadow in the cloud reveals an angel in the skies.

Their bows are permanent, their heads fall once but do not rise,
the stillness of the clouds betray the angels in the skies.

Their motionless prostration is their very best disguise,
creating doubt upon the earth of angels in the skies.

What of the consciousness of those in tombs we all surmise
have fled to scenes beyond the eyes among the clouds of skies?

Where are the shadows of their seats?  Despite our many tries,
we see none in their names we find cloud-written in the skies.

I call to those who've left too soon, their names among my cries.
Their answers whisper in the hiss of rain from cloudy skies.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

The astral umbilical cord which tethers flesh to soul,
in Death is torn, the spirit soars, the man is no more whole.

In life when man is put away outside the city gates,
untethered by a scornful wife, his spirit bears the toll.

Untethered, man may roam the paths of cemetery aisles
as dead, yet spurned by those in graves--the living corpse's role.

As dead in spirit, living flesh hangs rotten on its bones,
yet breathing still it can not qualify to rest in hole.

Though charitous among the living offer food and clothes,
I only seek from those I've lost to fill my begging bowl.

Declining shelter I have chosen life under a bridge,
that I may watch my loved ones from afar, their ugly troll.

Where love is life, a loveless life is spiritless corpus.
In my decay in search I stray to find again my soul.


(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

i knew a girl, not well, but i
          knew well enough to be
a floating cloud upon the sky
          when need arised to see
if some temptations had the gust
to move her into someone's ******
          and as it were i rained into the sea

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

I knew a lass I did not know too well,
a church acquaintance not too close a friend,
of which we shared harmonious a spell
on Sundays, this became a steady trend.

One day I passed a knick-knack in a store,
a coffee mug just like a camera lens,
and thought, a fitting gift one slightly poor
could relish on his shutter-bugging friends.

And so I grabbed the knick-knack, paid for it,
on Sunday told the lass of what I'd done,
surprised, she deemed it inappropriate,
rejecting it, of this she would have none!

How good intentions sour so easily,
a new acquaintance quick unfriending me.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

This gun thing on the news it scares me so,
appears in schools and homes, beware the gun!
The kids will be in trouble, they should know,
they cannot make the shape of it for fun.

Don't eat a pastry till it looks like one,
or shape a Play-Doh mountain like an "L".
The teachers quake in anger, looking stunned.
You'll see the principal before the bell!

And even pointing fingers, they can tell,
your index and your thumb, if from the side
looks like a gun, they'll sound the scary knell,
and grab the kids into a room to hide!

As if you'd **** a finger when you pull it,
and out will come a magic deadly bullet.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

it charged at me, this muscled bull enraged--
its flaring nostrils snarling, snorting breath,
a steam--unleashed from some unnoticed cage,
and trampled hap-strewn bookbags to their death,

along the closest aisle 'tween students' desks,
while on its beeline path straight toward me,
she, by some scalding fury magic hexed,
transformed into this vile monstrosity,

with hands-turned-talons grabbing clump of hair,
my side-yanked skull and body followed suit,
i tilted right and toppled with my chair,
'pon impact with the floor i faced her boot,

hot breath screamed to my face and singed my eyes,
obscenities, growled expletive assaults
so pummeled ears while spittle mixed my cries,
lambasting accusations showed my faults,

for i had done some very taboo thing,
was loud or spoke some word unwittingly,
and so was hung to die upon a string,
while lashings of her rage whipped welts on me,

after my execution was complete,
she buried me, my grave a league so deep
in homework, i was crushed before her feet,
and made a slave for all the year to keep.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

If I were sure you'd take me back I would
delay myself to ask instead, would I?
Rethink the question, not as would but should!

I would have once done everything I could
to stand again before you eye to eye,
if I were sure you'd take me back.  I would

have climbed mount Everest and stood
upon that peak that scrapes the clear blue sky,
rethink!  The question, not as would but should

I then return to that once happy 'hood,
that turned its back the day you said goodbye?
If I were sure you'd take me back I would

examine your once vibrant heart turned wood,
to analyze your once hot blood gone dry,
rethink the question, not as would but should

believing good turned bad can turn to good
bring joy once more or turn again to sighs?
If I were sure you'd take me back I would
rethink the question, not as would but should.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

my love and i, while pondering one's death,
          and counting all the ways which one may die,
discussed what happens after one's last breath,
          exhaled into the void of empty sky,
discussed the many ways a man may go,
the best and worst of ways which we both know,
          which do allow or stifle one's goodbye.

she asked, just playfully, how i should die?
          i thought of it, and i began to say:
"i'd shrink to four inches and here i'd lie,
          and you'd just walk and go about your day,
and as you'd come my way, you'd spot me here,
with gladness and without an ounce of fear,
          you'd step your heel and crush me on your way."

with furrowed brows she asked me then, "but why?
          of all the many ways you'd choose this one?
and why choose me to cause your life to die,
          i'd be to you a weight so many ton?"
"because," I said, "how fitting it would be,
that my dear crush should crush the life from me,
          as every day her loveless smile has done."

with eyebrows raised, quick lowered, she agreed,
          she understood i understood her well,
in truth her selfishness was fueled by greed,
          unhidden, she admitted this to tell,
"it's true, i have not been a dear of late,
and for you i no longer palpitate,
          so i'd agree to end you with this spell."

"please let me know if you have found a way,
          and to your wished-for end i would oblige,"
she answered, clicking heels she walked away,
          i watched her shoes slam down and quickly rise,
in sync to my own heart this heartless lass,
who found me lacking, of a lower class,
          had spoken truth concealed within her eyes.


(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

He claimed to harness energy, not found,
imagined, but not measured from the ground,

and from the positive of cells now known,
like energies our knowledge in has grown,

The energies, all positive, that flow,
so do, unblocked by furniture for show,

and by the absence of the negative,
slow-shooed by candle color, scent it gives,

This he believed and now more so believes,
unmeasured energy that comes and leaves,

is in all things and is all things in form,
for every form is energy in dorm,

and now he looks at everyone the same,
as patterned energies upon a plane.


(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

oh once upon a time i found a soulmate,
filled my heart, it overflowed, i drowned
so deep to ocean's floor i simply died,
translated to the heavens of the skies,

though years, it was a drop in ocean's depth,
that we would be together in our bond,
against all my beliefs and thoughts it broke,
oh yes, so possible, it truly did,

she changed and fell right through the floor of glass,
past clouds and vanished to the earth below,
so mortified to stone i followed suit
and landed in an open grave closed shut,

to my surprise a new love, moschiach,
did resurrect me from my stateless tomb,
and showed me things i'd missed from my dear love
long past but not forgotten in the mind,

yet she could not accompany me there
upon the clouds in steps rising to sky,
for she was chained to one some distance off,
and she was his, and though our hearts be tuned,

we could not mesh and cleave into one flesh,
yet showed me soulmates are not one for one,
for there must always be another one
somewhere in space and time, like us, like this,

and now standing before my former grave,
with hope for life yet hopeless in my search,
should i climb down and sleep or walk a path?
a path to where? to whom? now death, now life...

and so i wait, eternity if must
be done, somehow, for here alone i can't,
an oddity among the pairing souls,
comprising all that heaven's meaning is

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

there are those certain ones, those special friends,
they fall down from the sky, like white snowflakes,
that land upon my nose and tongue, and melt,
that chill me, wake me from complaceny,
and melt my heart to water, falling rain,
our time together short, so very short,
and gone, they leave a sore and open wound,
which nothing filled, could fill or ever will,
just holes, i'm full of holes, i am a hole,
come one, come all, come more, come fall some more,
and tingle my dear nose and tongue and heart,
and make me live and die again, again

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

oh it's the end, the world will end today,
the Mayans said, they said it long ago,
according to opinions people say,
the modern sayers saying what they know,

it's noon, the morning hours i have survived,
now fifteen minutes till the clock strikes two,
i find in all the silence i'm alive,
the sayers thinking twice 'bout what they knew,

survivalists in barricaded doors,
with rifles loaded, ready on the walls,
will pace upon their dusty wooden floors,
awaiting for that ring when death makes calls,

today for many, dying one by one,
the prophecy was right, their time is done

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

dear man, you did one wrong, don't celebrate,
you'll hear again about it till this date,

dear man you did two wrongs, get set to flee,
she'll cry about your wrongs, they will be three,

you did three wrongs, start looking for the door,
when next you spat, she'll bring to you all four,

and lord forbid your four come back as five,
this pattern promulgates while you're alive,

when five wrongs then return to you as six,
you'll wish for tickets down the river Styx,

and six will show as seven different things,
and ten, eleven, only diamond rings

appease the wrath of woman but do fret,
for pachyderms and females don't forget,

your flaws will always exponential grow,
and this a man must always need to know.

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

there's strange fruit hanging from the tree
          we planted in the garden
those giant eggplants i can see
          in cloth wrapped, burnt and hardened
the white ghosts cooked them on the vine
while chanting blasphemies in time
          to metered prose of Tennyson's E. Arden

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

i find myself at rest, lain sickly prone,
a broken figure in contorted pose,
halfway in mud, my head beside a stone,
an unintended consequence i chose,

at last the bottom of this deep ravine,
thrown from a cliff when reason found its way,
i tumbled down a path i'd not foreseen,
i now await my healing as i lay,

o'er shards of flint and glass, o'er cobblestones,
was i dragged furiously by one who fled,
so flesh did lacerate round breaking bones,
and blood spilled wildly, i should have been dead,

yet my sweet's chariot my hand released,
she rode off to the west, i rest in east

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

Oh, why give credence to the speechful lass
who judges sanity among the two
admirers differently, one fail, one pass,
and take to heart the failure judged in you?

Why question why--when both have done the same
exact deed with no difference in the act--
should you be deemed a nuisance and insane,
and he a hero, opposite of fact?

"He stares at me, this stalker and a creep,"
says she of your mere passing little glance.
"That staring handsome hunk I think I'll keep,"
she coos, his eyes ******* her in dance.

Attraction makes acceptable the deed
that otherwise repels the heart in need.

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

with every thought of you,
my heart explodes roses,
filling my mind's sky
with rose petal rain,
and every red petal
bears your name,
showering me with smiles
with every thought of you.

(C)1997, Christos Rigakos

old pigeon bones
aside the maple tree
not touching
a winter wind blows through
our kindred spirits




(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

i have no eyes to see nor ears to hear,
no speech beyond my teeth or any breath,
i'm dumb for lack of thought in front or rear,
and paralyzed to stillness in my death,

so by enchantment i am moved to ask,
do ever you adorn my stone with wreath?
or is even a wreath a burdened task--
a limestone needing pulleys to bequeath?

and if no wreath, are you yet moved to haunt
this resting place to whisper to my mound?
or does this too remain a task that daunts
you to refrain from passing by around?

i often wonder if my plot still yields
a headstone or the mark of potters field

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away.
They shared the fire they'd held between their eyes,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

How long had she felt burning in this way?
Not longer than he'd held her in his eyes.
She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away.

He'd watched her every move and every sway,
and hid his aching pain from all the guys,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

They told her of his longing, burning way,
and she denied her own with see-through lies.
She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away.

I saw the smoldering within his gaze,
and told her, but she called them brother guys,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

She lied about the time she spent all day,
with him, he was a lover in disguise.
She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

her marble bones, cemented to her skin,
her warmth, imagined, from this porcelain,
encased a heart, if any, in its shell,
which beat for me as far as i could tell,
yet beat for some as well towards the end,
though in the end i couldn't tell apart,
the sounds of stone and non-existent heart.

(C)2006, Christos Rigakos

seashells
line my bare shelves
barely--line my bare walls
collecting emptiness to fill
my house

(C)2000, Christos Rigakos

father's face
buried in his hands
the weight of grief




(C)1999, Christos Rigakos

traffic horns
inside car windows
Bob Marley

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

What's rendered me an impotent of life,
while others live a life with vibrant hum?
A curse that's hedged me by a wall of strife!

While other lives with fine success are rife,
my own's deplete, a curse has sure become
what's rendered me an impotent of life!

Through failure to provide I've lost a wife!
Though I believe, there are those doubts in some,
a curse that's hedged me by a wall of strife

cannot exist, they say, I'm a midwife
to all my troubles, I am who has done
what's rendered me an impotent of life!

Or maybe I've insulted a spaewife,
who cast, to love and money make me dumb,
a curse that's hedged me by a wall of strife.

I've searched from North Recife to Tenerife,
and failed to find a way to make undone
what's rendered me an impotent of life,
a curse that's hedged me by a wall of strife!

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

opposite
the cemetery
laughter
echoes over headstones
children's peek-a-boo




(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

Where do you suppose she goes to stay,
to be with her secret lover?
I 'd bet you a bet, it's not far away.

The place where she goes, when she goes to play,
those games with her secret other,
where do you suppose she goes to stay?

I followed her round the town one day,
with discretion she couldn't be bothered.
I 'd bet you a bet, it's not far away.

She walked from her office not too far away,
oblivious to me undercover.
Where do you suppose she goes to stay?

She met a young man, in his arms she was splayed,
I filmed this and sent to her mother.
I 'd bet you a bet, it's not far away,

the beating she'd get for the rest of the day,
from mother and father and brother.
Where do you suppose she's now forced to stay?
I 'd bet you a bet, it's not far away.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

She broke his arms, his ribs, his legs, his heart.
He was a man who loved with all he was.
She ripped a very loving man apart.

He gave her money, pushed her shopping cart,
he bought her heart's desires, and without pause,
she broke his arms, his ribs, his legs, his heart.

His crime was having loved her from the start,
and far beyond her limits without cause.
She ripped a very loving man apart,

and though she was a very sour ****,
he loved her still with everything he was.
She broke his arms, his ribs, his legs, his heart,

hock-spat at him, and in his face did ****,
to agitate that love wrapped tight in gauze.
She ripped a very loving man apart,

and stomped him in his sleep, stiletto darts
pierced flesh and pocked him, loving as he was.
She broke his arms, his ribs, his legs, his heart.
She ripped a very loving man apart.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

A teardrop from a woman's eye,
contains a magic so immense,
to shake the stars out from the sky.

A man may unceasingly try
yet fail to match one as intense--
a teardrop from a woman's eye.

It matters not if truth or lie,
once one among the men is sensed
it shakes the stars out from the sky,

and men will rage forth low or high
to save the damsel from distress.
A teardrop from a woman's eye,

which can be conjured with a lie,
un-twines sinews of muscled men,
and shakes the stars out from the sky.

Her greatest weapon is to cry
and warriors will jump the fence.
A teardrop from a woman's eye
can shake the stars out from the sky.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

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 *** 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 *** 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

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

let's run again before we have to leave
let's take the time to do just this one thing
our time is very short, you must believe

to run our hearts will beat, we'll have to breathe
and life will course through veins, and lungs will ring
let's run again before we have to leave

let's run and wear our hearts upon a sleeve
and tie our hearts together with some string
our time is very short, you must believe

all races end, spectators then will grieve
as long as we do run, we'll fly with wings
let's run again before we have to leave

the end of things will come, we'll be bereived
why waste our precious time on empty things
our time is very short, you must believe

let's run the paths that always interweave
where hearts beat through the breath that living brings
let's run again before we have to leave
our time is very short, you must believe

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

A day will come when they'll collect my soul,
as they have done with all those before me,
to pass me through the forty different tolls.

To analyze my character's life role,
with words and deeds in burning third degree,
a day will come when they'll collect my soul.

My guardian, with good deeds in a bowl,
will show the toll booth keepers all of me,
to pass me through the forty different tolls.

Have I ordained to fill my empty bowl,
that I may pass through tolls efficiently?
A day will come when they'll collect my soul,

the day when I'll have reached my life's last goal,
but will they find a purity in me,
to pass me through the forty different tolls?

It won't suffice that I've a gaping hole,
with mourning's sufferings that I can't flee.
A day will come when they'll collect my soul,
to pass me through the forty different tolls.

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

where is the other world, where does reside
the realm of souls impossible to see
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

most say it is a place where souls abide
a distance from the flesh of which they flee
where is the other world, where does reside

the doorway sought and failed where many've tried
to peek into the dark against decree
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

yet is it here among us as we cry
for loved ones passed from casket 'cross that sea?
where is the other world, where does reside?

and could it be right next to those who've died
while resonating foreign frequencies
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

why do we look with longing to the skies
when all around us things are never seen?
where is the other world, where does reside
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

they came to Earth to take us all away,
the few of us who'd make a new beginning,
who had the mark to save us from the Day,

through whispers into children's ears would say,
the dates when Death's visage would show up grinning,
they came to Earth to take us all away,

who have our innocence, the rest would stay,
who lost it in a sea of ****** sinning,
who had the mark to save us from the Day,

the visitors would show them bleak and gray
foreshadowings the Sun would sure be bringing,
they came to Earth to take us all away,

yet no requests of those who'd strongly pray,
could stem the tide that'd stop the Earth from spinning,
who had the mark to save us from the Day

could, with a pebble in the hand, go away,
and find ourselves upon a new field, singing,
they came to Earth to take us all away,
who had the mark to save us from the Day

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos

we met like two birds landing on a wire
and chattered with our chirping sounds that sing
at distance where no flights could we conspire

though thoughts of love nests set our ******* on fire
like humans holding tight to form a ring
we met like two birds landing on a wire

that laid upon the face of earth's attire
so far that only light-boxes could bring
at distance where no flights could we conspire

yet caught by love like wings snagged in a brier
two lovebirds sought to ease loneliness's sting
we met like two birds landing on a wire

and dreamed since then of hatchlings we could sire
with eggshells cracking at the scent of Spring
at distance where no flights could we conspire

above the clouds now dreams have floated higher
and soaring past the heavens there do sing
we met like two birds landing on a wire
at distance where no flights could we conspire

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

she boiled my blood inside a *** of steel,
with bread she cooked it thoroughly till foam,
had covered all, unseeable, unfeel-
-ing, vengeance wrathful, hardened to a loam,
          where blood is life, she caused the life to be,
          unlivable, no more a life to me

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

there is a place i want to see
          which no man yet has seen
a city built around a tree
          where it has always been
where animals feed off the fruits
and no man's dared to step his boots
          where flirting sun in sky just smiles and preens

a city built around a tree
          which no man yet has seen?
how could a city none could see
          be built and always been?
who built it if it wasn't man?
could animals, and if they can
          would they also build zoos for you and me?

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

i am the sun

that rises from its nightly earthly grave
propelled by hope to find her love in skies
unmasking galaxies for their disguise
his mighty queen, pursued by lowly knave

and finds but empty space littered with stars
its solar flares upon its face but scars

descending then it falls into the sea
and drags the heaven's colors to the floor
its light extinguished through the closing door
in dying for a spell will cease to be

i am the sun

(C)2012, Chistos Rigakos

my wedding photo hints of some foul play
          of death, destruction lurking, looming 'round
as four have cracked or burrowed under ground
          while two remain who yet have lived to stay
for two by two the years have counted them          
who've left this picture someone has condemned
          and neither they nor evil can be found

from left to clockwise tragedy has struck
          this picture taken in 2004
a blissful wedding day with bliss in store
          has seen no bliss yet only jet black luck          
for two years is the pattern found within
as if installments paid for unknown sin
          and two by two the years have taken more

2006 my brother passed too soon
          at thirty this was not his time to go
from one disease a cure does not yet know
          and from his loss we still are not immune
as one by one his organs fell asleep
until he too slipped through, we couldn't keep
          and he was just a prelude to this show

2008 my grandpa, ninety-five
          had lived a healthy, fruitful fulfilled life,
outlived even his loving doting wife
          by eight years more the man remained alive
for two years of his grandson was berieved
whose name he often spoke of as he grieved
          an old man overwhelmed with burdened strife

2010 the blissful pair had split
          whose wedding day this picture to us bore
after six years her joy had been no more
          explaining that my throne no longer fit
for i'd become a burden to her cause
and cut off, bleeding freely without gauze
          i cannot find the life i had before

2012 my father's heart had failed,
          in April he was saved but for a spell
until in May his heart one last time fell
          despite all of our efforts as we railed
and as it were, a grandson he'd not see
a son of my wife's flesh enjoined to me
          now how this pattern plays i cannot tell

the back row in the picture's marred complete
          the front row bears the two that now remain
this pattern of two years i can't explain
          but if continues more will see defeat
the clockwise movement left to right is done
now right to left the foreground move will run
          2014 promises new stain

the next in line, my mother in two years
          and two years after her my aunt is left
then i will be of everyone bereft
          an orphan, fate fulfilling all my fears
by this 2016 none may laugh
but one, this silent chilling photograph
          completing all my family's great theft

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

on the tree branch
outside my window
a squirrel chews furiously
on a walnut

as sales have fallen
business declined
frustration
is a fat sweaty man
sitting on my chest
i cannot breathe
i surrender
and lay as if dead

watching
outside my window
as the squirrel
finally cracks the shell

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

under dirt
in a box
no voice
     teaching about nutrition
no breath
     exhaling cigarette smoke
a brain
     shrunken
          no more knows
shut down
     irreversibly
          dismantled
in silence
in a box
under dirt

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

empty bench
beside a grave
silence


(C)2012, Christos Rigakos