Old 10-02-2017, 09:10 AM   #1
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Join Date: Dec 2013
Location: Europe
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Aftermath Of Pax-Putana

I have submitted this trilogy about 10 days ago in the main board but it has not been published yet. I donít know the reason, and I donít find anything prohibitive in it. So, I re-submit it here with my commiserations to the editing/approving team.

Hillside 21/9/2017

(Just another summer report)


I had in mind some good plans,
about how to set a plot,
how to entrap your future fans,
maybe I've done, and that's the lot.

I try, every day I try,
down by the waves, in Avra Beach,
sometimes I lough, (I never cry),
but old "Nissaki" has turned Kitsch.

I've hired Hillside for thirty days,
I ended up having two homes,
my old routines and usual ways,
my lonely swims, my monodromes.

Everything that I tried didn't work,
the whole content is in my brain,
mostly unstructured, what a joke!
I wait the first autumnal rain,

to wash away what I do,
like dust of summers long bygone,
and maybe then, if it was true,
I'll know, the sun has really shone.


As for this summer, all is fine,
in late September big heat wave,
I hope you rise and still you shine,
and still you rock, and still you rave.

I am surviving on my wits,
call it a bluff, call it a whim,
still playing guitar, the standard hits,
I drink espresso, then I swim.

The night comes, plenty of drink,
the German tourists are all here,
to men I smile, to girls I wink,
I drink raki, they stick to beer.

Though I donít call, I think of you,
oh, never mind, another trick,
it is the smells, it is this blue,
maybe I'll call youÖ next week.

Not that we would have much to say,
sometimes the words are best unsaid,
just to confirm, all it's ok,
too late now, time for bed.


Autumnal clouds over the Libyan sea,
since yesterday the temperature has dropped,
I'm sitting underneath the orange tree,
in its protective shade, as I had hopped.

I did not hope for much, and that's enough,
to feel upon my skin this soft cool breeze,
if every other feeling is a lough,
then send it to North Pole and let it freeze.

The oranges are growing every day,
by mid-November they'll be full and ripe,
I donít intend without a cause to stay,
and blow once again my lonely pipe.

The bugle of loneliness has stopped its warning,
since loneliness became the only season,
I stay awake as always till the morning,
without thoughts, without romance or reason.

Despite autumnal clouds, summer thrives,
and gives me all its blue and all its blessing,
like new sensation every breeze arrives,
a few are chilling but the rest caressing.

I watch the south sea, the waves are coming,
I may miss my swim if I'm too late,
Rebetiko tonight, then some jammin',
as always, music's still my only fate.

Refrain ad libidum
Some years ago you were my type,
now you're just an archetype,
the aftermath of Pax-Putana,
but now a new Fata Morgana.
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