The quill immerses into the inkwell,
and pulls out slowly, careful not to drip.
The hand trembles with excitement to spell,
it moves across the page with only the tip.

The author breathes deep, the muse speaks softly,
words come easily, flowing like water.
The muse commands, the scribe follows blindly.
The words appear faster, the hand a blur.

A smile plays at her lips, her breath catches.
The ink like a tattoo, leaves a dark trail.
Faster, her hand, Fire, leaves only ashes.
The muse completes the symphony, hands fail.

The quill falls, the author breathes out a sigh.
The black spreads. This writing can satisfy.

One may wish to turn back the hands of time
And return to a place unscathed by change,
Only to find this petty whim a crime
For change is certain, and entirely strange.
It comes with no notice, hint, or advice;
Wreaking destruction throughout its wake.
Some can foreshadow change and it's device,
Like I, counting down until the great break.
Yet through all the warnings, I embrace it;
I await the day where my life will shift
And irrevocably bend and emit
A brilliant light on which I will drift
Into some uncharted territory
Where I anticipate to find destiny.

This evening, alone, I dim the light.
The needle crackles on the vinyl disk,
and Billy Holiday expounds.  The night
belongs to 1933.  I risk

forgetting all the present, modern days
sinking.  In leather deeply I recline,
absorbing all that special era plays,
and all I never lived are surely mine.

With every sip of bourbon on this night,
they come alive again through jazz and song,
from album cover pictures, black and white.
We dance in black ties, black tails all night long.

And when the morning sun has woken me,
I will have lived my night in history.


(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Two sailors navigate a turquoise sea
To stay afloat we made a brittle boat
The ship rides low: we’ve got buckets of glee.
It’s made from sails of laughter, planks of hope

The boldest storm can put away its thunder
Our rolling sails will last through coldest night
The stars will turn their icy orbs and wonder
How we manage to float along alright

But,

Green ocean waves themselves have turned cliche
And god, I keep on dreaming ‘bout that prow
My bottom-dwelling thoughts ruin the day
I want to wet my freezing feet somehow.

So,

I’ll sink the ship and dredge the empty sea
Because I'm so ******* thirsty.

Don’t speed through because Life is “too short”.
Enjoy all moments, good, bad, and every sort.
The good, you will always hold tender.
And the bad are lessons to remember.

Let your experiences take you on an adventure you never knew.
And don’t let your possessions possess you.
Never settle for normal or boring.
Just take a leap of faith, and start soaring.

Always be proud, even in your mistakes.
Learn from them, and just say “Thanks”.
Don’t be passive, but not too controlling.
Give yourself a push, to get the ball rolling.

Stay humble even when you’re doing great.
For when you think you’re the best, you might fall on your face.
Love and care for everyone, even your enemies.
‘Cause your kindness, could be their remedy.

Life is crazy, and is sometimes annoying.
But stop your worrying, and start your enjoying.

Heavy clanging of funeral bells greet
newer, bleaker days in the same turmoil.
Men and Women alike run fast to meet
greener grass sprouting out the same black soil.
I cut laugh lines into my pallid face
and throw my head 'neath freight trains each new morn'
I find little solace or change of pace
in carving the page to express my scorn.
My dark fantasies of death and sorrow
plague my night and cast shadow over day.
The other souls are simple, vain and weak
that shuffle on wires with little to say
and no fighting spirit of which to speak.
For each smile, there runs a bitter tear.
Just let me sleep, wake me when Death comes near.