Of course
it will happen
one day
Lizbeth says
it will happen

I lay the borrowed bike
against the hedge
and so does she
hers is red and silvery

we walk up
the narrow lane
to the hollow tree
and we climb in
and it's like a small house
inside but small
and snug

I like it here
she says
last time we came
I thought we'd do it here
but we didn't
and I so much
wanted to
even though
it's not very
comfortable or big

what's the rush?
I ask

she sits on a small ledge
hands in her lap

never know
how long
you've got
might not make 16
might be pushing up
daisies by then
she says

I look out
of the hole
in the hollow tree
at the surrounding
woods and trees
and hedges
bird song and such

come sit down
next to me
she says
I won't bite
well not
straight away

in this book
I’ve got
this woman
is kissing
this man's
what’s-it

I look at her
she's drawing her
dress up
from her knees

why do you
read that book?

why not?

she taps
the small space
beside her
sit for a while
I promise not
to do anything to you

I sit beside her
the space is cramped
and there is a smell
of sap or rotten wood
plus the perfume
she's drowned
herself in

you smell
of farms and cows
she says

I was working there
for a while earlier

smells like it
she says smiling
but I don't mind
as long as you're here
next to me
elbow to elbow
thigh to thigh

and as I turn
my head away
a small bird
flies past
the hole
catching my eye.

your skirt was red and flowing,
your blouse was blue
on the night i locked eyes with you.
it seemed to me like i hadn't seen your eyes since last december.

my shredding muscles
my popping joints
i saw the pupils of your eyes by firelight shrinking down to pinpoints
you were poking at the embers
there's a cold wind coming off the ocean.
there's a cold wind coming off the ocean.

i wet my finger with my tongue and pressed it in the ashes,
rubbed it up against your perfect eyelashes.
you said something really important,
something pretty seems to have slipped my mind.
walls were freezing, so was the floor.
i didn't want to hurt you anymore.
you had a sad, sad, friend in front of you,
that dying fire behind.
there was a cold wind coming off the ocean.
there was a cold wind coming off the ocean.

I wish this life was simple,
Not to complex.
As a puzzle.

It's so **** frustrating,
Why do I have to piece it together?
Get yelled at,
Get lectured.

As I age,
I only feel...
Caged..
Like an animal.

Through the sand he goes
the boy trapped in the hour glass
his life would be linear
if this child was alive

Yet he live and dies every second
he's the boy that lives in the sand
here he goes spiraling down
just to be turned upside again

No time within time
he's encapsulated in his vessel
so free in some ways
yet a prisoner of forever

Again again he lives and dies
the boy that lives in the sand
time trickles through his fingers
with the laughter of the gods


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

This is it
The only one

Everything between the rising moon
and the setting sun
is all you've got

It'd be a shame not
to make the best of it

It's a new year
What's done is done
Today is here

Move on.

My poetic dream has rhythm of a newborn child
with his life so temperate and depending on the
favored winds and season
and continuity of theme worn out and fluid within
happy in its first cries and innocent
and spoken on his mother's breast his first love his nourishment
his quest is to survive like every gnat or fly or
word
that seems to seek what is best for him or her or I
and keeps on throughout this orbs revolving a brand on all living life we share with yellow grass and dogs with creatures we have never seen that
rely on mother natures schemes that feeds with rationality
and sacrifice the weak.
I seek to think man is just a head above, on two limbs, but always get knocked down, to thinking that we aren't much better than wild.