Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
Christos Voskrese!

For Tod

The world is unusually quiet this dawn
With fading stars withdrawing in good grace
And drowsy, dreaming sunflowers, dewy-drooped,
Their golden crowns all motionless and still,
Stand patiently in their ordered garden rows,
Almost as if they wait for lazy bees
To wake and work, and so begin the day.
A solitary swallow sweeps the sky;
An early finch proclaims his leafy seat
While Old Kashtanka limps around the yard
Snuffling the boundaries on her morning patrol.

Then wide-yawning Mikhail, happily barefoot,
A lump of bread for nibbling in one hand,
A birch switch swishing menace in the other
Appears, and whistles up his father’s cows:
“Hey!  Alina, and Antonina! Up!
Up, up, Diana and Dominika!
You, too, Varvara and Valentina!
Pashka is here, and dawn, and spring, and life!”
And they are not reluctant then to rise
From sweet and grassy beds, with udders full,
Cow-gossip-lowing to the dairy barn.

Anastasia lights the ikon lamp
And crosses herself as her mother taught.
She’ll brew the tea, the strong black wake-up tea,
And think about that naughty, handsome Yuri
Who winked at her during the Liturgy
On the holiest midnight of the year.
O pray that watchful Father did not see!
Breakfast will be merry, an echo-feast
Of last night’s eggs, pysanky, sausage, kulich.
And Mother will pack Babushka’s basket,
Because only a mother can do that right

When Father Vasily arrived last night
In a limping Lada haloed in smoke,
The men put out their cigarettes and helped
With every precious vestment, cope, and chain,
For old Saint Basil’s has not its own priest,
Not since the Czar, and Seraphim-Diveyevo
From time to time, for weddings, holy days,
Funerals, supplies the needs of the parish,
Often with Father Vasily (whose mother
Begins most conversations with “My son,
The priest.…”), much to the amusement of all.

Voices fell, temperatures fell, darkness fell
And stars hovered low over the silent fields,
Dark larches, parking lots, and tractor sheds.
Inside the lightless church the priest began
The ancient prayers of desolate emptiness
To which the faithful whispered in reply,
Unworthy mourners at the Garden tomb,
Spiraling deeper and deeper in grief
Until that Word, by Saint Mary Magdalene
Revealed, with candles, hymns, and midnight bells
Spoke light and life to poor but hopeful souls.

The world is unusually quiet this dawn;
The sun is new-lamb warm upon creation,      
For Pascha gently rests upon the earth,
This holy Russia, whose martyrs and saints
Enlighten the nations through their witness of faith,
Mercy, blessings, penance, and prayer eternal
Now rising with a resurrection hymn,
And even needful chores are liturgies:
“Christos Voskrese  – Christ is risen indeed!”
And Old Kashtanka limps around the yard
Snuffling the boundaries on her morning patrol.
On Saturday mornings it always was the same
my Nan would say come Chris we are going down the lane
I would fret want to go to the bathroom but she'd drag me out again
knowing what a powder keg she was and thought her rather insane

It did not matter how big they were she had ***** of steel
if someone crossed her path they would come off ill
I was mortified by her temper, my word but she was strong
I have seen her throw hard men right over my head and they were gone

Now at this not so tender age I am
now I understand who I am
just another dangerous creature
like my sweet old Nan

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Never relent to reach your dreams
never fall at the first fence
be brave and fight on
think everyone not your enemy

Stand fast and never yield
be strong for the time of deliverance
be a child of the stars so vast
with hard work and perseverance

Go by the beat of the drum
know that enlightenment is within you
be as we, stride on freely
for I truly believe that you can really do

(Poem For Larna Kira Kourtis)

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Christos Rigakos Aug 2012
ang ngiti mo ang sumunog sa puso ko
ang ngiti mo ang umalipin sa kaluluwa ko
at kapag ikaw ay tumititig sa akin
napapaso ako, mgpakailanman

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos


*
(Translation:

my first poem for my Zera, in Tagalog

your smile sets fire to my heart
your eyes enslave my soul
and when you stare at me
i burn in your gaze for eternity)
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
ngiti mo sumunog sa puso ko
mata mo alipimin kaluluwa ko
kapag ikay nakatitig sakin
napapaso ako sayong mga tinging magpakailanman

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Christos Rigakos Oct 2012
seashells
line my bare shelves
barely--line my bare walls
collecting emptiness to fill
my house

(C)2000, Christos Rigakos
Cinquain
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.bacon doesn't exist in Polish cooking... podgarle... the under-neck meat of a pig... or just plain lard... rather than olive oil... 1 onion per 1 scrambled egg... paprika and lots of garlic... and definitely some cayenne pepper... certainly more onions than eggs, scrambled... and definitely using animal fat... to fry it on... hell... if vegetable fats are so healthy... why is there a term for the vegetative state of immobility of an otherwise animate being?

****! not against Norwegians...
what the **** am i saying?!
spotted one vegan girl...

              pork head terrine...
slavic version of
the Scotch haggis -
      
                 omnivore -

        you eat what?
i eat anything that, once upon
a time, moved...

                i've actually fallen in love
with a fetish that i circumcise into
a lobster...

  i want to eat a lobster...
chicken bone marrow isn't enough...
i want a lobster...

              i want to taste the foods
that could cure me of
ever wanting the 72 virgins
promised by Islam...

    instead? i want the feast
of Belshazzar...
to begin with...

i don't like bacon...
i prefer prosciutto...
   i haste bacon... it's too crude...
too anglo-saxon...

i hate the stink of frying it...
******* hate it like
a Muslim....
    prosciutto? different story...

and i hate ***. sushi...
smoked salmon,
and raw herrings in cream dill
sauce?
   or with pickled cucumbers
in a cream sauce?

thumbs up...
i'll only eat sushi,
if i take a knife in public...
and eat it with a cut up lemon...

raw lemon and sushi?
i can do that...
                  but i need a bench,
in a public space...
and a knife...
                      i can stomach that
sort of sushi,...
but? scotch smoked salmon,
of the Baltic king,
namely the herring
in a creamy sauce...

you come near me with
that ******* about calorie
intake?!
  i'll tell you to stomach
a ******* rhino!

               not here, not now...
    i don't like the sort of impoliteness
of people who do not eat
the other person's food...
****** me off...
eat the food, **** the turban!
i said! eat the food, forget
donning the turban journalistic
opportunity!

****-wits!

               the food! the food!
eat the food!
you don't eat the food?
you might as well be donning
a donkey's **** on your heard,
thinking it a Sikh turban
on, your 'ed...
you, *******! ****!

eat the food...
   is it me, or having watched
channel 4, in England,
finding the English people
overtly picky about
the food they eat?!
you figure that one out?
they're picky... don't you think?
picky as if half of them are
allergic to nuts!

             ah...
but the English want to both
entertain the food, & the clothes...
       goodie ol luck!
      
the "thing" you've had,
prior to 1945?
you're not getting it back, forget it!
i too remember Tony Blaire
ensuring
Hong Kong was a
revival of the ancient Greek
city-states...
        
                 love the diet...
            too bad i eat the rare,
most decent architectural pieces
of pork...
     like the head,
meat + cartilage + fat + sclera...
   in a terrine...
   yummy... ******* yummy...
      
      what else?
chicken hearts broth,
chicken stomach broth...
    cow intestines broth...
   pig liver sauce...
         czernina...
   duck blood soup...

                   the Semites
and the Arabs can have
their Kosher and Halal rites...

we? the people of the north?
we have the economics
of the purity of a slaughtered
animal...

unlike the Semites?
we use all the bits,
best for frying or worst for the broth...

which segregates us from
Golgotha and last supper poetics,
Semitic poetics,
of invigorating a stance
for the...
     transmutation of human
flesh, subsequently the
        refusal of pork,
but somehow normalizing cannibalism;
Rabbi?
  how about? NO!
NO!
   i rather eat pork, curated
to Italian standards of smoking...
i will not eat the filth of the *******
catholic Eucharist!
   no chance in hell!
the Semitic critique of pork
is my critique of the... "bread"...
you eat it!
    i'm not eating it...
now? sheave the silence,
   and the lamb...
      oh yeah... i'm anti-semitic -
against one Jew... hey-zeus christos!
It's a **** count down on Rockies ranch
Rock's got the list
and Clancy's got the **** counter
listen to Rock sing his favorite song
good old Cockity ****
to see how many heads pop up
time is a ticking
counting all those chickens
so cockity ****
get them heads up
my lovely *****


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
I dance like a lizard on hot sand
by the light of the sun I've done this before
it's like that, one minute waltz times four

Reptile be what reptilian is
on rock lazily warming in the sun
as my slow constitution has began

After midday hiding in shadows
with darting tongue, I smell my pray
by their nest I wait till the last of day

Then out they come in the cool of the night
a feast frenzy for all
yet this ***** lizard is so small

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Black And White

My heart has always belonged to you
body and soul by command, you make me do
I am the lion in your heart
I fight to see you when we are apart

When I take my uniform off
I think hard about you
and all makes sense to me
when so far over blue seas

For I love and protect
even if they are not we
I am your knight
black and white as you see

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Humbled

In your shadow I am presented
to be never disappointment
you made me holy
made majesty of me

I sing your praise
glory to the love of you
I am humble by your art
forever I will love you

In your honour
I will build temples in my mind
for the heart of to dwell in
and the sweet love of you

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Just Another Girl

You are not just another girl
you have become my world
I worship you from afar
you are my distant star

You are not just another girl
without you I pine and curl
for you are my heart
not just another girl

You make wisdom principles
and by the eyes of Zion
by the glory of your trinity
you are not just another girl

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Christos Rigakos Sep 2012
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
So long ago was the rebellion
when shield and sword clashed
how mighty those battles
far, far from our homes

All were once the same
till he shot his big mouth off
and a division was made
we knew then this was rebellion

Brother and brother locked in combat
sister and sister fighting to ones defeat
never should this battle of taken place
all because of jealousy of the human race


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
My hamster has asthma
it's so well not ****** cool
he sits there just looking at me
when I put him in his ball

The wheel I bought him to run inside
does sit in his cage redundant
for he has no want to play
my poor short of breath rodent

I took him to the vets
this coughing spluttering pet
I told of my malady
hoping he'd make him breath better for me

The vet looked at me astounded
and very confounded
as this condition he had never seen
a hamster with asthma looking cute and serene

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Have you been bad my friend
as you seem to be on the naughty list
let me just check for you
see all that you have claimed to do

Can I look at your pass again
sir by this your seven foot tall
and to boot, great with child
you can kiss it, you are on the naughty list

Oh don't give us this and that
I smell the bull, you're full of crap
you are on the naughty list
maggot, just one off the wrist

Now move over sir
as you are not welcome here
no point stomping your feet
you sir are not getting in


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Sitting past the reeds
upon a willow tree
the kingfisher surveys
his watery larder

With keen polaroid eyes
a victim he spies
and measuring distance
he makes his next move

A flicker in thought
his blue metallic wings
now do go into action
such a beautiful thing

Down from the branches
wings folded back
he darts into the stream
by the banks waters edge

The minnow that was hunting
has now become the hunted
and out of crystal waters
the kingfisher is victorious

Out of the stream
with feathers to preen
after a hearty fill
of minnow and bream

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
The Kid Is Lonely

This kid is lonely
he cries in dark corners
his mind full of doubts
about who he is and who you are about

The kid is lonely
he is not afraid
for he knows he's ever lasting
and has always cheated death

Yet he is a lonely kid
one with big brown eyes
just wanting love
just wanting love

He spins the bottle
hoping it points to you
he wants love
for he is lonely

He wants to play
in closets he will stay
he wants to play finger bobs
with you as his toy


By Christos Andreas kourtis aka NeonSolaris


Do You Think It Matters

Do you think it matters
who I know and don't
same old sh*t
in the fame game

I relate to those that run
it is not nice to be loved
they want to know all about you
and that is the thing that kills me

It's easy to **** one like me
for you get on that stage and tremble
do you think it matters
that you are killing me

They tell me not to worry
but how do I take this
are they just being kind
or just *******

I am as insecure as my last work
and I live the pain
for I am nothing
but a **** poor poet


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris


They Want Me Dead

Those of the black arts
want me dead
the circle of hate
want me dead

They hate me as if I was a Jew
they would gas me if the could
but they have no chance
for I am already dead

My ****** veins are hollow
and echo dead man walking
oh let them wish
that they want me dead

Hush my love
you know I love insults
it gives me an excuse
to justify the hurt

Oh they want me dead
I will give them that
as I shove me fist
right down their throats


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Giorgos Vlachos Sep 2013
as month July
crossed Avenue T. Vladimirescu
on a bicycle
in Sinaia


Denebola
in a red
cloak cross-legged sitting
over Revolution
was teaching History
to the cherries


Leyla, a midwife from Damietta
refers to the Kepler Laws :
with Fullmoon uncompromising
I do not recognize the midday crossing
of the Sun
its True Heading
the height of the stars
today 07.11.1980
right from within female Danube's womb
I bare
the smile and the eyes
of cupid .


George Vlachos


Translation :  Christos Rodoullas Tsiailis
Ice cream ninety nine
I know you make my lips taste fine
I need a big one mister
give me your large ice cream, ninety nine

We hear you coming
with lame tunes, Mmm pretty shifty
but we love to see you here
in our slum of a f>>king city

Yet Ice cream man
your sauce is tasty
and the blood you put on
makes kid's like us factory

Come back ice cream man
just one more ninety nine
come on ice cream man
let us bleed you dry again


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka Neonsolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Oh cast me to the dark
so I have a chance to fight
let my sword on fire
make brave and inspire

My loyalty is only to you
you are the light of my dawning
what do you wish of me
I do promise to serve you

Soon they will know
just what a fool of love I am
my heart aches for you
I even dream with you

You are all to me
you are my dignity
and I truly love you
with all of my loyalty


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
As we transcend from the perfumed gardens
my hot lips climb your mount of venus
and by your belly button
I breath hotly on you and lay a kiss
I know I pretend to be prim and hawlty
but keep my secret, that I bite naughty

People would think me a ***** monger
a ****** beast with a unquenchable desire  
I rive and burn with anticipation
just to feel skin against skin
I'd do you and her to, it's my fault
that I do bite naughty  

I look deep into your eyes
as I move up ever forward
I reach your temple lips
and there I lay my hypnotic kiss
laying where you are my beauty
as I bite you naughty


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Water lapped up the side of the lifeboat
as it bobbed up and down on the sea
only seven ****** had survived
the rest had gone under and drowned

The first officer and the stoker
lent over a fellow ******
he was coughing up oil
and in unbearable pain, was screaming

The stoker mumbled, He's not got long
then he started to sob in his hands bitterly
they had been torpedoed by a U Boat
a day and three quarters out of Italy

The coughing then stopped
the ****** was dead
so they said a little prayer
then tipped him over the edge


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
My brothers dog is a naughty boy
he chews on the furniture, and destroys his toys
the chap can even open the bread bin
scoffing all that is contained within

My brother did say, just the other day
with a huff and a puff in somewhat dismay
that he had caught his crafty mutt licking
the board that he chops his food on

He had wondered why it always kept clean
now he knows, all is not always what it seems

Yet my brother loves that puppy
and together they are so very happy
but he is a rowdy little sod
is my brothers naughty dog


By Christos Andreas aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
By The Falls.

Every time I am here, I think of you
I remember the laughter and rain
your voice that sung to me
with honour and purity

You made yourself queen of this place
this magical land, that you filled with grace
your voice is my substance, my law
you are all I love and adore

My maiden of cool waters
one of Poseidon's daughters
I will always worship you
with tears and rose petals


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris




My Sweet Justice

When I first saw you
I knew I wanted you
you was my desire from within
and I so needed you

I wanted to put my point across
did not mind you being boss
I just wanted you
at any cost

Oh foolish man I was
my wife was the cost
and now you have left me
yet again I have lost


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka Neonsolaris



When Willows Wept

Do you remember that sweet summers day
when willows did weep and the smell of hay
we laid silent in the shadow of it's leaves
I believed in you and you, you believed in me

It was more contentment then life itself
this precious moment in time
I stroked your face cool as marble
and you did then stroke mine

This flutter of heart
my sweet love for you
what ever's your bidding
I by my love would do

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Time does tell me to unfurl my dark wings
keep a blood red cross on your door
for like the last time I flew
it is time to take the first born

Years become seconds
I am programmed
to hunt and ****
by the orders

This is a deep communion
nothing to do with faith
just an action I must perform
deaths bitter sweet wraith

So from door to door
I will strike them down
**** the first born
all around the world

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Christos Rigakos Sep 2012
empty bench
beside a grave
silence


(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Haiku
Hey bro don't push in front
you *******
hey **** for brains say thank you
you *******
Man you are going to make me loose my rag
you *******

Why don't you just ****** die
you *******
because I will ******* up
you *******
I will bleed you till you never believe
you *******

I can break every bone in your body
you *******
I can make you burn in hell
you *******
I can be wicked if I want
you *******

So get out of my space
you *******


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Ocean calm but for moonlight now flickering
the wake of the playful children of the sea
here in secretive parlour they lift their heads up high
and sing profound longing to Orion with star filled eyes
their solemn songs with kind indifference they click and cry
in holy matrimony of cool waters joined with black velvet skies.

By Christos Andreas Kourtis
By NeonSolaris

© 2008 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Poppy walked the streets by day
she cried in the allies at night
she's still a kind and generous lady
who through circumstance had lost the fight

The vacant look in her eyes
dirt on her face that some despise
but if you gave her the time of day
wise words she would always say

People call her a down and out
but that's not what she's about
for from the front she had come
and no more would she hold a gun

She is a forgotten hero
and now she's a zero
she keeps her medals in her pocket
in a tissue next to her false teeth

One of the many now forgotten
one who's life now is rotten
this is Poppy the hero
this is one of the forgotten

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris


© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Christos Rigakos Oct 2012
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
Villanelle
We walk by the river side
wanting the sky to fall
planes fly tree line low
she ducks her head as we go
as I hold tight to her hand

She has the look of eloquence
her eyes burn into my eyes
and by the riverside
we spot a blue dragonfly
we watch it's shimmering wings as it flies

We stop for a few moments
to watch this baby fly
as we care for all
and none care for us
as we are just planes and dragonflies


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
It was silk that handkerchief
that she kept in her slim red velvet sleeve
that windy night whist out riding
she did loose that hanky to the wind wild and free

Holding on to her mighty black beauty
she did let her chief fly with the wind
and as moonlight fell
it did land upon a still pond

A frog still breathing the breath of flies
dead in eyes did adorn himself
making the silk handkerchief his cloak
claiming all the kingdoms of the world

He claimed dark magic for his evil empire
bathed those so foolish to follow his lies
from spore to twenty ages past
he was their glory, for a thousand years to pass

Oh his sick blindness was his ignorance
making baby skinned lamp shades
as death by his hands came so easily
by suicide he'd die in a shallow cowards grave

The lady of the midnight rides
oh she did hear of his wicked deeds
so she made a black clothed thing
a dragonfly, with the heart of fire

It was sent to that time
oh to that dark age with jagged wings
it did put hate in a box
to save fit for another day

That silk handkerchief
oh did he know it's worth
pudding disdain is now the frog
and to our shame, so is this world

By Christos Andreas Kourtos aka NeonSolaris
FLY 2013

Put him back in the deep freeze
who let out FLY 2013
I want their number
so I can dismantle them

I won't let you're black hollow eyes deceive
one of you are accountable
I will work back in numbers
and with a 7 19 scanner find you

We built our armies in the dark
should all our work be for nothing
who activated FLY 2013
this is nothing more then conspiracy

Note that work loads are doubled
it's all out production
remember we are building nothing
there is no FLY 2013


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris


Mr Death

I starve myself of oxygen
getting closer to death
I see his face
and he smiles at me

He is the mirror image of me
just not as hateful
his eyes are bloodshot
mine are as black as Hell

He see's the light
I hold tight in my hands
Death never saw this coming
a lord of love, with holy child in hand

I stand over Mr Death
grab his scrawny neck
pull on his spine
and twist his nasty head

Now Mister Death
who the f**ks dead



By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris


Blood Letting

Every day I tear this body apart
then I I do some blood letting
I let my warm blood
flow over my naked body

I wriggle in my clotting blood
liken to Eve before the flood
I am mother
and I am father

I cut deep into my veins
a psychotic madman
one of the lost
dead to the world, dead with a plan

Blood letting
yet never forgetting
that you are next
for the blood letting


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
When I go on a poetic rant
I call it my **** out sunbathing
and boy do I flash them
whilst I am still breathing

I am trying to help other writers
just to overcome their fears
as I have become fearless
with devotion, so many years

You get to a stage
or maybe an age
that you care not what people are saying
when you have your **** out sunbathing

Yes, I know I am rather brash
smoking **** and flicking ash
drinking till the sun cries morning
a new day of poetry, just dawning

So as a would be sage
twenty first century made
I do hope to empower
writing is a life time, and not just hours

I write for the love of it
help all of this art waiting
for I am a **** for the art
with my **** out sunbathing


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Lawrence Hall Apr 2018
For William Tod Mixson

The world is unusually quiet this dawn
With fading stars withdrawing in good grace
And drowsy, dreaming sunflowers, dewy-drooped,
Their golden crowns all motionless and still,
Stand patiently in their ordered garden rows,
Almost as if they wait for lazy bees
To wake and work, and so begin the day.
A solitary swallow sweeps the sky;
An early finch proclaims his leafy seat
While Old Kashtanka limps around the yard
Snuffling the boundaries on her morning patrol.

Then wide-yawning Mikhail, happily barefoot,
A lump of bread for nibbling in one hand,
A birch switch swishing menace in the other
Appears, and whistles up his father’s cows:
“Hey!  Alina, and Antonina! Up!
Up, up, Diana and Dominika!
You, too, Varvara and Valentina!
Pashka is here, and dawn, and spring, and life!”
And they are not reluctant then to rise
From sweet and grassy beds, with udders full,
Cow-gossip-lowing to the dairy barn.

Anastasia lights the ikon lamp
And crosses herself as her mother taught.
She’ll brew the tea, the strong black wake-up tea,
And think about that naughty, handsome Yuri
Who winked at her during the Liturgy
On the holiest midnight of the year.
O pray that watchful Father did not see!
Breakfast will be merry, an echo-feast
Of last night’s eggs, pysanky, sausage, kulich.
And Mother will pack Babushka’s basket,
Because only a mother can do that right

When Father Vasily arrived last night
In a limping Lada haloed in smoke,
The men put out their cigarettes and helped
With every precious vestment, cope, and chain,
For old Saint Basil’s has not its own priest,
Not since the Czar, and Seraphim-Diveyevo
From time to time, for weddings, holy days,
Funerals, supplies the needs of the parish,
Often with Father Vasily (whose mother
Begins most conversations with “My son,
The priest.…”, much to the amusement of all).

Voices fell, temperatures fell, darkness fell
And stars hovered low over the silent fields,
Dark larches, parking lots, and tractor sheds.
Inside the lightless church the priest began
The ancient prayers of desolate emptiness
To which the faithful whispered in reply,
Unworthy mourners at the Garden tomb,
Spiraling deeper and deeper in grief
Until that Word, by Saint Mary Magdalene
Revealed, with candles, hymns, and midnight bells
Spoke light and life to poor but hopeful souls.

The world is unusually quiet this dawn;
The sun is new-lamb warm upon creation,      
For Pascha gently rests upon the earth,
This holy Russia, whose martyrs and saints
Enlighten the nations through their witness of faith,
Mercy, blessings, penance, and prayer eternal
Now rising with a resurrection hymn,
And even needful chores are liturgies:
“Christos Voskrese  – Christ is risen indeed!”
And Old Kashtanka limps around the yard
Snuffling the boundaries on her morning patrol
(Orthodox Easter follows the Julian calendar, and this year will fall on the 8th of April according to the Gregorian calendar.)
Upon still waters white with slender neck
this beauty glides so gentle in serenity
and as the reeds call to warm winds
she dips her head in acknowledgement

Mayflies skip across this crystal stream
I am in awe of this wondrous day
this is my heaven, my dream
so by it's cool banks I lay

Green leaves are everywhere
willows here weep no more
for this cool and pleasant waters
is where I will rest forever more

Our shatter light from wars holy
will blend with the brotherhood
and I pray to God
for he said we would


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Tic tic tic
I know it sounds sick
all that tapping on keys
my countdown to my sweet suicide

It's no big deal
for nothing I feel
this body, this flesh
good god 20,000 will do

If you live by the art
die by your art
this is my 9,997
before the gates of heaven

I will push myself to death
promise a utter messy death
glory to dark poetry
my countdown to sweet suicide

The fire burns deep within me
I will not retreat from this
no glance back, no romance
just my countdown to sweet suicide


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
He was tripping space *****,
whilst receiving some strange alien calls,
up on planet Acidon,

From where he sat he could see Uranus,
he was so out of his mind,
he thought he could fly,
boy was that crazy spaceman high,

The journey took him really far,
way out to a distant star,

His food supplies consisted of turtle soup,
but his bowels couldn't handle it,
so he often pooped,
after consuming turtle soup,

The journey had been long and laborious,
and his co-pilot was a drug dealing walrus,
that could not handle his drink,
it made his eyes go pink,
to the point that he could not blink,

They were so out of their box,
they could no longer think.

By Christos Andreas Kourtis and Larna Kira Kourtis
Stephen Purcell May 2016
Christ eternal, the seal, the white lamb.
Divinity personified, given in place of us.
The fulfilment of the ultimate blood price,
paid in full with divine blood.
Defeated by death, yet death he defeated,
Rose from the ashes, He struck down the shadows and shone.
Shone into the abyss, the fate that awaited all sinners;
Broke death, brought life and us.
Cleansed our corrupted souls for eternity.
Through the blood of Christ we live.
Through the blood of Christ we are free.
And through the blood of Christ, DEATH IS NO MORE!
Dawn arises, light shines, the beacon is lit and night’s silence is broken.
Get a big **** of butter
throw it in the pan
get your Asparagus out
cut them fresh, not from a can

Simmer them gently
use a little pepper
the more seasoning
makes it taste much better

Then put it on a plate
just for you and me
and see's who's first
to run to the bathroom for a ***

I watch from across the table
is that a tear in your eye
or is it a Asparagus stick
between your thighs

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
He sleeps in evergreen trees
tying his long beard to a branch
and there he dreams of rabbit stew
wishing to snare one per chance

His emerald coat is perfect camouflage
so he lays on his shinny gold buttons
thinking of mint tea and chocolate cake
after a feast of lamb cutlets and mutton

This little greedy plump fellow
with stripy socks purple and yellow
will sing in his sleep to the birds in the tree
with a voice so sweet and so mellow

With nightfall's, he descends to the ground
making sure no human presence are around
and he speedily sifts through park litter bins
looking for cooking pots made out of tin


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
This is a party for the old and wise
a rave up with rich tea and biscuits
all talk of many years past lessons
I sit intently wanting to all learn

In their austere faces
I see the child within each
such wise ladies that mother me
give me freedom and never smoother me

I keep to my cup of Earl Grey
taking in everything they say
maternal goddesses
wise as Delphi's Oracle

It's a vertebral feast
to listen to history
knowledge can make a man
guided by women right

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

— The End —