Submissions by Xenikos
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
writing poetry in Greek, Dutch, English. Main topics: friendship, man to man love. dark poems in English.
9. YOUTH ETERNAL
one more clandestine poem
in a clandestine life,
is the toll you set
for one hour with you, each minute of it longer
than any minute you condescended before;
for one night with you, darker than night,
with stars no more,
darker than the night of the blind.
voices will whisper in fear,
a whisper lower than silence itself.
hands will touch hands,
chest to chest, mouth to mouth
our grasping souls will grow,
until our bodies tangle
in one hard embrace by human law forbidden
but
an exploding glow in darkness,
a jubilant song...
in a clandestine life,
is the toll you set
for one hour with you, each minute of it longer
than any minute you condescended before;
for one night with you, darker than night,
with stars no more,
darker than the night of the blind.
voices will whisper in fear,
a whisper lower than silence itself.
hands will touch hands,
chest to chest, mouth to mouth
our grasping souls will grow,
until our bodies tangle
in one hard embrace by human law forbidden
but
an exploding glow in darkness,
a jubilant song...
790 reads
2 Comments
8. POSSESSION
lend me your shoulder
for a caressing kiss so soft,
lend me your back
for a kiss so tender
as if you were just born.
lend me your thighs
for kisses so hot, for kisses
so wild, so possessing,
that blood is now the red of my lips,
blood the taste on my tongue,
love my longing
for the blood of your soul.
A few words of explanation will be useful.
The Greek poet Xenikos wrote these deep underground poems in English. They were made “public” for the first time on 8 June 2011 in his blog http://xenikos.blogspot.com
Gothic poems,...
for a caressing kiss so soft,
lend me your back
for a kiss so tender
as if you were just born.
lend me your thighs
for kisses so hot, for kisses
so wild, so possessing,
that blood is now the red of my lips,
blood the taste on my tongue,
love my longing
for the blood of your soul.
A few words of explanation will be useful.
The Greek poet Xenikos wrote these deep underground poems in English. They were made “public” for the first time on 8 June 2011 in his blog http://xenikos.blogspot.com
Gothic poems,...
1050 reads
3 Comments
7. SPERM AND BLOOD
watching you in trances
is not enough.
watching you bleeding
is not enough.
watching you suffering
is not enough.
watching you crying
is not enough.
hearing you screaming
is not enough.
feeling your muscles tense with pain,
your abdomen so vulnerable under feverish fingers,
your genitals so strong, so heavy,
so pulsing hot in my hand,
is not enough, not enough.
lust has made me a stony bow,
in lust and pain I guide you.
no climax of horror can stop me now
from spilling, spilling my sperm
on your sperm and blood...
is not enough.
watching you bleeding
is not enough.
watching you suffering
is not enough.
watching you crying
is not enough.
hearing you screaming
is not enough.
feeling your muscles tense with pain,
your abdomen so vulnerable under feverish fingers,
your genitals so strong, so heavy,
so pulsing hot in my hand,
is not enough, not enough.
lust has made me a stony bow,
in lust and pain I guide you.
no climax of horror can stop me now
from spilling, spilling my sperm
on your sperm and blood...
1073 reads
2 Comments
6. TWILIGHT TOWN
thunderbolts are tearing the clouds to shreds,
daylight could not resist.
devout fathers cross their children’s forehead.
the elderly try to remember
how long ago somebody had died
in lonely fields, under trees
full of all too frightened birds.
among many, one man only keeps open
his door.
above his bed no cross, no icon.
uncosy, dark and chilly is the room.
but when dusk falls and the thunderbolts
make children innocent to scream,
when every other house in town is closed
and latent fear persists,
this room receives a lot of...
daylight could not resist.
devout fathers cross their children’s forehead.
the elderly try to remember
how long ago somebody had died
in lonely fields, under trees
full of all too frightened birds.
among many, one man only keeps open
his door.
above his bed no cross, no icon.
uncosy, dark and chilly is the room.
but when dusk falls and the thunderbolts
make children innocent to scream,
when every other house in town is closed
and latent fear persists,
this room receives a lot of...
754 reads
1 Comment
5. SEVEN YOUTHS
the wood is full of silent sounds
of shadows and of smells.
a whisper is sliding through the trees,
the naked trees that seven springs
now beg for leaves and blossom.
but naked they stay, victims hated
by the wind and by man’s memory.
as seven summers have gone by
since Devil’s day, Lord Satan’s day,
when sacrifice they witnessed
of seven youths, who out of silly arrogance
had here invoked His name, and
when so mighty His presence came unto them,
had fled or tried to run, praying now
to another god, to pale inable saints.
short...
of shadows and of smells.
a whisper is sliding through the trees,
the naked trees that seven springs
now beg for leaves and blossom.
but naked they stay, victims hated
by the wind and by man’s memory.
as seven summers have gone by
since Devil’s day, Lord Satan’s day,
when sacrifice they witnessed
of seven youths, who out of silly arrogance
had here invoked His name, and
when so mighty His presence came unto them,
had fled or tried to run, praying now
to another god, to pale inable saints.
short...
841 reads
5 Comments
4. RAPE
why is this open place amidst the wood
so silent
as if no bird dared to appear?
why are the trees so stern?
why is this place so perfect a circle
and what has been burning,
burning in the centre of it?
strange lights can be seen at night
moving from tree to tree.
and in the circle a low fire is on
with no people sitting around.
and dead as the place may be
as long as sunrays wink,
mysterious signs remind of life
beyond this earthly life,
when midnight tolls
and lonely souls
start hunting for a virgin
or for a boy...
so silent
as if no bird dared to appear?
why are the trees so stern?
why is this place so perfect a circle
and what has been burning,
burning in the centre of it?
strange lights can be seen at night
moving from tree to tree.
and in the circle a low fire is on
with no people sitting around.
and dead as the place may be
as long as sunrays wink,
mysterious signs remind of life
beyond this earthly life,
when midnight tolls
and lonely souls
start hunting for a virgin
or for a boy...
824 reads
1 Comment
3. FAITH
night fell as a cloud over
low pine tree hills.
silence came so close to me,
that I had to shout my name
to myself in the dark.
but word and sound echoed back,
in a language unknown,
in sacred syllabs long forgotten.
and fear with silence again
met my burning soul.
where are you?
why should your presence
unsettle my desire to serve you,
Lord, day after day,
faithful as in the hour I denied
the cross,
faithful as in the hour you marked me
with your blood-red blason,
faithful as in the hour
my body lay in abandon...
low pine tree hills.
silence came so close to me,
that I had to shout my name
to myself in the dark.
but word and sound echoed back,
in a language unknown,
in sacred syllabs long forgotten.
and fear with silence again
met my burning soul.
where are you?
why should your presence
unsettle my desire to serve you,
Lord, day after day,
faithful as in the hour I denied
the cross,
faithful as in the hour you marked me
with your blood-red blason,
faithful as in the hour
my body lay in abandon...
837 reads
2 Comments
2. SOULS LOST
my window at night
is a refuge for souls at large,
for spirits damned by man.
so put the candle on.
the shadows on the wall
are not, are not at night
the familiar shapes of life.
on the way to the wood,
the whistle of the young lad
will suddenly turn into a
wild short scream.
the shadows on the wall
will shudder,
and silence will rule again
in utter darkness.
whose soul was it
that blew the flame
and went into smoke forever?
A few words of explanation will be useful.
The Greek poet Xenikos wrote these...
is a refuge for souls at large,
for spirits damned by man.
so put the candle on.
the shadows on the wall
are not, are not at night
the familiar shapes of life.
on the way to the wood,
the whistle of the young lad
will suddenly turn into a
wild short scream.
the shadows on the wall
will shudder,
and silence will rule again
in utter darkness.
whose soul was it
that blew the flame
and went into smoke forever?
A few words of explanation will be useful.
The Greek poet Xenikos wrote these...
911 reads
3 Comments
1. NIGHTMARE
my dream was of ages
when fear had the taste of daily bread,
when little time was left for dreams and
bowing heads did never care to see the sun.
my dream was of ages
when each man was another man’s slave,
and the most mighty king a submissive liege
of the Devil, of Satan the Lord himself.
my dream was of ages
too dark for myth, for tales and history,
too cold for true love in endless nights,
when birth meant rape nine months before.
my dream was of ages
long forgotten, but by the few who
on hidden altars under midnight...
when fear had the taste of daily bread,
when little time was left for dreams and
bowing heads did never care to see the sun.
my dream was of ages
when each man was another man’s slave,
and the most mighty king a submissive liege
of the Devil, of Satan the Lord himself.
my dream was of ages
too dark for myth, for tales and history,
too cold for true love in endless nights,
when birth meant rape nine months before.
my dream was of ages
long forgotten, but by the few who
on hidden altars under midnight...
898 reads
1 Comment
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