other half of eros

the days yield nothing but useless


leading me down the garden path

in a circle

in which centred the fial answer

lies/ reflecting like a devil’s eye.

the days of nearness to each other

have driven a wedge of indifference

between us

that belies our passion

that has made us to believe in the

failure of human relations

that always centres around passions

and desires

like the circling path of longing

that reflects a central blue-green


this day is marred by failure

even the messenger of love breaks


as comm’s slip from his weakening

fingers/ the poet swears

all’s just a blank page and

a dark screen.

let’s do it tomorrow/ we say in unison

and hope has won

for we are soulmates of the first degree.

‘see you in bed’/ she says

and i agree with my other half of eros.



zjg poetry’21.


in the heat of our love

i s aw flashes of words on the

mirror of your heart:


as if a string of events played

a ticker-type message

as if i would fly with you in a

whirlwind affair

upside down in this dance

between heaven and earth

counting the whorls of hair

at the delta of your thighs

colourful dots of a holy ten

creations of art

that changed their shape

blew up as balloons

of sun and moon

and starformations that fell

upon the planet earth

in a full-mooned august night

illuminating the upright pillars

of the great poet’s genesis

that brought scribe and muse

to embrace in the mystical glow

and the band of powerful beasts

and vile men came undone

and galloped off into the endless


above the lover’s embraces.


zjg poetry’21.


i smelled the body of a palm-tree

fingers spread/ moving towards me

drops of tears all over its hairtips

attracting me to its nectar

i pressed myself into

its fingertips made me move and slide

untilthe softness of its curves

pulled me in/ ignited me

and a fire raged between my thighs

fine hairtip needles perforated my skin

white drops of blood stood like

a string of pearls around the neck

of her/ her/ i’ve met in my other world.

i watched this man who came from

within the russet bole of the tree

embracing the woman of milk and


change into a priced bull and ride

away with the woman

who had a skin of a whale.

from the dark green and purole sea

the movements of her feet and hands

lapped my great excitement

as i watched this spectacle of

ever-changing bodies and trees

for as long as i fell asleep.


zjg poetry’21.


you are everywhere and

nowhere/ the song goes

it is as oir life is/ love/ strong

and present in the mind

projecting you physically

into my bed

that is wide and keeps your


stroking the imprint of love

tactile and wild

gentle and forever waiting

for you _

you/ who are the smile that

has been promised to me

by the poetess’ soul

the poetess’ breasts

the poetess’ desire to live in me

forever –

the sweetest curse that promised

love that’ll never end.

she cited: ‘for mighty is love

the neverworld its fervour’.

“i have to live it’/ she said

i’ve read your own citation and

it sent showers of anticipation

up my spine/ as if she’d help me

now with love/ as if she’d touch me

at my sacral bone/ as if she’d

want me to feel this act of penetration

i have fulfilled on her in love

as i’ve done so many times

in fervour.


zjg poetry’21.

replay of names

dukakis.sikakud/ doxiades.sedaixod

how good these names sound on a

dull morning/ aching joints/ humidity.

at times the sun comes thru’ with

a punch of halogen-shine

then again clouds gather rapidly

grey with weighted water content

ominous/ shedding some drops

saturated with dust and chemicals

to dirty the windows of rooms and

cars/ menial cleaning jobs for little

pay/ nobody’s keen to clean.

why the two names?

the first an actress and singer

the second a famous greek architect

both talented and only recognized

once they paid a visit to cerberus

and back.

twice the poet dreamed this

clearly saw their names lit up

besides the poet’s dad was always

thought of as an actor –

the architect’s home was crete –

the preferred island of the poet

the town of galos.solag/ still on

the back of his mind/ a flash of a


along the way of traveling the

island of mountains and the sea.


zjg poetry ’21

still moving

with a sudden flash the artist’s life

had changed

besides the general showdown by

technocrats and rulers of public life

the artist had to re-establish his groove

of creative moods

work at it steadily day for day.

there’s no problem working away

in solitude

yet meet your mate now and then

or perhaps a good friend

a potential soulmate

visit exhibitions of art

let art-history scroll past your eyes.

your assembly of experiences

hover like a blue mountain

in the mental landscapes

your mind will assist/ but you/

dear artist have to dig restlessly

and mine it.

for treasures will come to light

you’ve forgotten about: romance


eros with his never tiring arching

to get you still moving.


zjg poetry’21.


where are the friends of the poet?

whereto have the friends of the artist

gone to/ who has painstainkingly

rendered his drawings for a follow-up


there are many scared people

the fright of survival bulge from

their eyes

and the few who preach and live

positive lives

have faded into the parisian blue

of the spring skies.

still/ the artist finds hope in using

more quality time

to complete a series of drawings

he had conceptualized fsome years

ago/ they have now matured for

publication without censorship.

without the tin drum of marketing

it’s only for the truth searchers

the style developers

the adventureres in writing

and the lyrical crowd of the few

looking for inspiration and for


for those who can read with their

hearts and souls

not only thru’ their eyes and minds

the artist will carry on.



zjg poetry’21.

wishes from the heart

ευχες απο καρδιας,

για οτι ποθει η ψυχη σας –

wishes from the heart

for everything your soul desires.

she said in conversation

with words chosen gingerly

the way we would come close

the time our souls would meet

a tactile experience had already

been decided on

some time ago

the poet recalls laughs and banter

at the boesner lounge

where the human touch could still

be felt

then/ togetherness at a lunch date

exchanges of interest in art

she sponsored me to carry on

my work: ART & LOVE

soon be finished as one of the great

lyrical poetry book in text

with many drawings this poet

had done durung the years –

as one step closer to a better poem

another step closer to a better drawing.

love has been there already

before the poet had placed the words

toward it/ step by step.



zjg poetry’21.

wide open again

a friend’s page wrote on facebook:

“eventually you’ll end up where you

need to be/ with who you’ll meant

to be with/ and doing what you are

meant to do”.

i share her thoughts in this regard

as a poet/ writing my journal poetry

day for day/ being inspired by suc

fine notions

besides i have opened up my heart

and have experienced love wide open.

for many years my heart had been sealed

of to feelings

with tons of pain and sorrow

having lost a true beloved one

praised in poems/ novels/ short stories

and elegies.

now/ as the aftermath of the passionate


and having scaled the high road

of creative success

that had been slowly cleared up

it’s time to reflect about my art concepts

bring to fruition all the sketches of art

and ideas of lyrical poetry

share it with all art lovers and friends.



zjg poetry’21.


in any relationships at times

one of the partners in love

just as in crime/ disappears.

in the circle of artists it is

ever more delicate

due to a geometry of triangulation

that rules over one’s emotional


the ebb and flow of inspiration

at its peak of success

opposed by the dark shadow

of destruction/ quite often from

the lips of a ghosting jealousy

partner in crime of the shadow world’s

members/ aka pilferers of art

sneaking into exhibition spaces

claiming selective pieces

as there are no watching drones

alerted to neutralize the culprits

somebody called the military arm

of the leaches of society. crash!

somebody crunching a watercolour

screech! it’s the slicing of a canvas

but these are also acts of artwork’s


built into the presentable frames

the new direction of art presentation?


perhaps a grand effect for the moment

of a work under the hammer of an


the art enthusiast will pick up the pieces

uncrumble the paper

re-establishing the sliced canvas as a new

diptych/ triptych/ multitych.

this’ the eternal repetitive circle in our

western culture

however/ art derives from able

if it would be from want it’ll called wable

art from abilities

tra from wanting.



zjg poetry’21.