Soulless

Even though I am locking the sky’s door

the fantasydream awakens me. How many 

images captivate me as I am unfolding the

 knot of light in my blind memories.

I welter alone, wander, my trip

dead, as I am fighting off in the shame. The verse is a

story, buried river, narration of years and then

soulless footprints. The chrysalis flies and the

gazes secretly talk, until the sound

of the bell of the intermission. A clash and

a note in front of Prodomos’ image,

touching the wings of the archangel, 

I long for the oblation, I don’t interpret

loneliness, I said so to my friend, the thoughts

are whispering, but I am walking. If I remain nostalgic

it’s so that I see laterna’s past, the soldiery and the sounds.

To exist to see the intangible, the soulless.

Fotios Panos

Janissaries

Those white umbrellas overwhelm the utopia of the soul,
 janissaries vaccinated inside the body, awaiting the acid
rain to fill with comfort the darkness.
So many candles around and tears,
but where are they heading to? The beat of your naked
boot as I hear, I collapse, but lost is the vision of the
wind. I anticipate my descent uninvolved in this frame
that shows your booming laugh. The flag wells up, as the
 entire longing gets painted. Today you are captive and
 you are hiding your fast in the eyes of children. I want
to embrace you, yet, you push me away, but white omen,
 you are forgetting the cancellation of the sky like a lie,
so that the truth sinks in your sore knees. But which treaty
 executes the patron saint of life and it doesn’t matter?
But which hymn is superior from the human mind?
Without you I was hoping for paradise, now I’m leaving in hell,
now I welcome you and kiss you. I was saying lots of things
and was sowing days in the skylight, until the sight of you
 became shadow and distance. Later on for the voice I will be awaiting.

Fotios Panos

Oracle

A smoke in the Oracle of sky races first wore on
 the pace of the procession. A raven fights the
canvas of the sky tweets explaining the dream-book,
voices of women, quiet streams, unique beauties.
In this theater cyanide, melanoma on long hair in
 the opinion which is considered unique. Silence
knows that lips are guarded, that the storks burst
 in the joy and in the eyes of the young girls, slugs
 to chew before the eyes the moist sorrow, the heart
 that beats ticking unprofitably. Full moans approaching
from the pitch almost childless, almost unprotectable.
Speak in front of the sunrise, speak in front of the virtue
 of the sun. A moment does not reach the mind of the
stork to put on sleep the stars and the bow of the day,
the navel of the world can't hold the bronze eagles.
 Oracle of water and stone, indirect, rhetorical words
let not stay the affirmation in the locked trunk let all the
 knees to bend in front of the dead jasmine. Hapless
nature that gained in your road souls of navigators.
 Sweet, sweet whispered me to cry next to a cliff for the fairy tale to grow.

Fotios Panos