Frankenstein
Or better die than live
I am the correct resemblance of my creator
Crown of the Creation
With two eyes wounds like taps
Tears to spring
With hair standing straight like nails
To be untouched by a lassie’s caresses
With a nose big and sharp
To frighten everybody
With a mouth a gap
For mourning to be loud
And small pointing beard and moustache
To be laughed at
Square the shoulders and the face
To keep the enemies away as well.
Clumsy the moving of hands
And the feet enormous
Not to step on the ground.
Me, your resemblance, my Lord
Halepas, the Sculptor, making her refusal immortal.
Vizienos, the writer, dressed in his wedding suit
Van Gaugh, the painter, burning my hand on the candle
And so long as fire I can stand,
Speak to her!
It’s me, my Lord,
Never, nothing I refused
From what you suggested
Fidel to duty and to fate
Always with the sword in hand
Always fighting in the steel armour of punishment
You dressed me
An Aristotelian soldier of yours
I followed the rules of the game of logic
Till the end
Say, poor, a “little” brave
I guarded the narrow gate
Deny me, why?
Judge me unfair? Why
Give me the hemlock at last.
It’s the mass of people
Moving slowly, aggressively
Swelling like a wave enormously
To drown, drown
What has beauty and excellency,
May you wouldn’t exist my God!
Mon lecteur! Mon hypocrite! Mon semblable! Mon frere!
”Who is afraid the King-Kong?”
Are you out of flesh or water?
Small like a finger of mine
I hold you in my hand.
Do you smile and wave lovingly
Or in my hand suffer;
-So many like you were only a mouthful for me.
I look, I stare, but what can I see from you as you are such little and insignificant;
-You show me your fist
and you beat me on the chin.
Is it tenderness or war?
You shout very loudly and suffer,
Is it curse or asking for help;
Or caring love words
You throw like stones against me;
Really are you small or enormous;
Must I love you or eat you up;
Great is the love that gasp me.
Fires are burning in my inner body
Like the hell fires I feel that my palm is burning.
Am I holding you or am I tide to you;
Me scared of nobody…
I am trembling…I am trembling…
”LINESHIP”
Don ‘t surrender
Go away.
No…no…stay here….
-Such an afternoon in the Aegean sea,
this moment that I sail as a passenger
so invisible I can see you fading away in your swimming suit
to drop the evening wind blowing through your smelling hair
and your body is the open sea.
Good wine in my mouth
The moment that dries out
The sun and the ship and the sketch
And the evening,
This moment in my brown and green and blue like
A guy ‘s dance far away horizon,
Shine suddenly purple the memories coral……
UTOPIA
On the coral bottom of the sea
Down hidden by the wawes
Signs the fair city,
Building up towers and gates,
Signs,
Signs, the inner body, the human,
Tenderly cares
And the beloved shadows opening mouths,
Talk,
Talk, and their music
In my mystic moments reaches our ears.
Our hearts are warmed,
By the mystic voices, the music.
The respected shadows dedicated to their
Utopy split the inner body of earth,
Cross the skies, voltaic light, gothic Cathedrals…
Loud Rock music, all that belongs to art,
The given, the lousy sunlight, beating the darkness,
Leaving and coming continuously,
Knowing everything and ignoring everything,
Monster and baby put you in bed to your lullaby.
”Suddenly last Summer”.
Oberon found us asleep that night
Near the pine trees away from the roses
And tenderly put his balsam on our eyes.
Next noon during the high-heat on the beach
Of cancer tropic circle,
Thousands from inside the sand,
Burst out the turtle eggs.
In the skies the eagles covered the sky,
Starting the war in itc shadow.
Thousands run, rolled, climbed
Little turtles leavinh for the sea.
The hights, the eagles plaunged,
Turned over the defendless puppies
Picked the tender wet flesh.
The afternoon sunlight shone
On the sunhills.
Bright was the sunset.
It was the salt that the sun put off in the sea.
And far away the mountain…
THE GARDEN
Among the Hycinths,
The violets,
The white flowers
And the roses of your garden.
I would like to be
A white lilly on your fair
Back to be,
Among your odours…
Every night
To fade out
And all fresh
Every morning to bloom up.
PIETA
I am a horror mask,
Sleeping…
Please don ‘t wake me up.
Sing song softly my love…..
OMONOIA SQUARE
Dawn and sunrise
I would like to kiss your mouth.
You
A small green leaf,
In the huge enormous desert…
STYLE
I have found my style in the eerie library
As everybody,
I have my own way
To butter bread.
SOLDIER
Full armed with armour and shield
You rush against me,
Who,
Neither a warrior be,
Nor an Achean fighter.
CHRIST
Even if you crucify me
For your truths,
I will tell you my lies…
Noah Dream
The blue star was diminishing in the distance
With its canyons and valleys
The blue seas and the bottomless oceans.
Its vines blew its muscles sprang
Looked airy and virgin
From the spacecraft cockpit
Where all was in logical order
Last moment’s starfighters
Just before the final deluse.
In this studying point
Where all stars fell into
And invited and laughed
The superman of Nietzcheic eschatology
Faded and faded away
And ridiculed
The blue planet before its destruction.
It was then, after the last wit
That she approached and embraced him
A moment and a breath
So long as a cosmos to shine and to dim.
This was the key where the tune turned allegro
And the music flooded everywhere,
Illuminated the piles of books
The paintings, the numerous Te Deum,
Poetry like an endless river
The nightingale’s singing at midnight
In ecstasy and sorrow, in love
Of one only moment and breath
So long as a cosmos to shine and to dim
And everything twisted madly
In a curious minuet
In their space travel
Above the roofs and the chimneys
Above the stardom of earth
Only the two of them
Male and female untouched
And loony
The only ones to be saved
Carrying all the wisdom of the world
All beauty and art
Spread around
Charmed and witnessing
Revealing and smiling
While down there, though,]
Far in the distance
The blue planet
The only one ever to carry life on,
Was blowing and blowing
Small pink vines
Muscles well built sprang,
Sprang
And it was time
That everything would finish
Destruction would be behind them
All would be millions of fractions
And they would be the only ones
To be saved
In this ark towards the infinite.
Ah! Venice
The liston of the Doge Palace
The gilded, shining Dom
In the dim lighted Saint Marc
The most celebrated square in the world
Crowded with pigeons
The mosaics, the frescos
The Venetian lion.
The Middle Aged clocks
Which are permanently struck
By the same slaves, the sorrows bridge
All is mocked
Standing at the Observatory
Of the eighth store
Opposite “New Lido” hotel
In the notorious side street
At Omonia square.
– Such as you are- “El Greco”,
Painting in skies
And Dom of your own planetarium
Faded out Sagittarius and Gemini.
All the same -seriously not, boring yes
And dull-
From this studying point of the eighth floor
You can watch the buses arriving
From Lido of Thomas Man
From this lovers lazaret
You see Georgia Sand arriving
In the arms of her new lover.
In this prison connected
Through your own sorrows bridge
From the eighth floor to Plaka
Area underneath
You always reach vertically.
Ah! May you reach today at last vertically
The pavement gyps.
Ah! Venice!
You once narrated in seven volumes
Sehrazat’s “Arabian Nights” tales
To gain a life and a love
The light diminishing,
Underneath the Acropolis.
Ah! Venice, Lido
The Community Casino, the Murano.
“New Lido” hotel, “El Greco” hotel
At Omonia square.
Oh! you longing soul flying high
From these heights you fell off
Brave though.
Mouths teethless are
The huge shipyards gaps
Of the Empire. Ah! Oh! Venice!
The Dress
Oh! May I were the jewellery
You wear in your hair
Softly set
Deeps in the caress of your hair.
Oh! May I were the lipstick
That makes your mouth desirable
Spread on the velvet of your lips
The moment you bite to smooth it.
Oh! May I were the bras
That proudly carries your beauty
Warming your tits
The freezing hours in winter.
Oh! May I were the pants
That sweetly circles the triangle of your body
From silk or leather oriental
Passionately to embrace his pleasure.
Oh! May I were the stockings,
White, pink or black
That can tight your legs
And provoke thoughts to males.
Oh! May I were the thought
Original that illuminated your mind
And from which items regained a fresh name
When brought to existence.
Oh! May I were the emotion
That deeply penetrated your existence
And made universe
Erotic and admirable.
Oh! May I were the thrilling
The unique and authentic that of desire
And trembling and fright
And longing and seducing desire.
Oh! May I were the dress
That fully embraces you
And to the celebration, the ball escorts you.
Oh! May I were the dress
Only your dress.
Eloise
The small workshop sparkled miracles
Colours, notes, words clear spread around.
May sun rited on the stage
Where man and woman at the altar
Sat opposing each other idololatres.
She, in the brightness of her flesh
Wrapped in the silk gown
He, bearing the memories of his books
The places traveled, the women kissed.
Future was threatening them in foaming
Huge waves and what was cheap and old to abolish
And new figures and fancies and actions
And words fresh and notions virgin
Curved on the copper
Decorated with orgies from pots coming
From Horamsar and Nissapur.
Her glance deepened in his eyes
Like a hawk plunging
Towards a nestling
– No, refused Histar,
A leaf of thickly written paper replaced her.
The Beast
It is the morning.
With the first singing of the ladybird
And the swallow.
It is the morning.
Having the first sip of coffee
Having the first feeling of the cigarette.
It is the morning
That needs the swift glance
That needs the quick tease
It is the morning
That all Bacheans and night dancers fade away,
When you know that everything cheated you the previous night.
It is the morning
That truth alone dominates, reality,
Which needs the warmth of her body.
It’s not the evening or the day work
Hidden with the tools and the apron
Reigning in the back of the mind
It’s not the night or the bedroom
Its longing the scenery to spread
Little Nymphs sailing in its blue.
It is the morning.
Fresh, the human mind, newly cut
Without plans and thoughts
Quick like a daring tease
Protoplast beast, looking for drunk
The known monster of your friendship
Virginally looking for, the Apocalypse angel,
Like a brute blindly looking for the hand
Mute looking for, only with a sigh,
Only with the deep coughing of the cigarette
Only with the sacred beast`s appeals
Him deafly looking for.
It is the morning,
That your touch becomes dearest.
All my riches
This pearl
Maniac poetry, madly you inspire
Lady of my madness
I saw your phantom
Queen of the girls
Sword out of its case, sparkling
Its movement cries and murmurs
Its pulsation front and back
Bodies rocking
In seducing oriental dances.
I saw your phantom
Hologram uniting all bodies
Fire lightening, outburning without ashes.
I saw you standing up, embracing everything
United with the dancers, one with the Bacheans
I saw your phantom completing everything
As lusty and tenderly, an illusion
The whole of my madness sacred insanity.
Pieta
I am a horror mask
Sleeping soundly
Please don’t wake me up
Sing slowly my good fate.
The Purple Ideal
Don’t speak!
What are you thinking of? What can you think?
My eyes are filled with beauties.
I set my eyes on your body
Short jean skirt, black stockings.
I set my eyes on the purple shirt.
I set my eyes on the black vested.
No, though! No, though! On the crimson lips
The brown eyes. The white face
The olive above the lip
The hair which lustily wave
As in dreams ocean breathings.
There I couldn’t set my eyes upon.
I set my eyes on the black shoes
Mirrors of longing which seduces
Without questions and wonderings.
I set my eyes on the black shoestrings
The unification and the separation.
How strings are bound and dissolved
The fate and the destiny.
I didn’t speak. What to say. How to say?
The unspoken. The unexpressed. The metaphysical.
I set my eyes on poetry’s body
My ears were filled by the words of poetry
Music, colours, smelling
Longings, longingly breathe upon
The same air, listen to the same words
Eternally
As cosmos in a cosmic pulse
Ornamates and is decorated
By the glance set upon, speechless
On the short jean skirt, the black stockings
The purple breast.
My name is George Drandakis and I live in Peristeri, Athens, Greece, 4, Vostitsis St., 121 31. My telephone number is: 0030 -1 – 5750018. E-mail: drandax@hol.gr
I was born in Peristeri, Athens, 27-1-1945.
I finished High School in Peristeri in 1963.
After graduation I took exams for a position in a Greek Bank in which twelve thousand of candidates took part, of whom only seventy were to be appointed. I succeeded to be the eighth in the success row.
In 1964 I entered for the Pan Hellenic University examinations and succeeded at Law School, Thessalonica. Because of this, I had to leave my Bank position. In 1965 I was registered at the second year of Athens University Law School. In 1967 there was the pouch in Greece and I was actually in the black list never able to finish with my studies.
In 1969 I entered the Psychology Private School, which I finished in 1972.
In 1971 I obtained the Proficiency of English University of Michigan Certificate and I started working as a teacher of English around Greece, Athens, Crete, Thessalia, Argos.
In 1973 I took part in the Polytechnics House uprising as well as in the riots of the Law School in 1972. The dictatorship finished in 1974.
In 1974 I was married and divorced for the first time in 1978. During this time, I had my own Private English School in Lamia. I was also elected as the First Secretary of PASOK (Political Party) for the Prefecture of Fthiotis.
In 1977 I published my first poems “Studies” in Lamia.
In 1980 I married for the second time to a German wife.
In 1981 I published poetry for the second time “Poems”, Athens.
In 1983 I have started working for the State as an Advisor for Adult Education with the Ministry of Culture or Education alternatively.
In 1982, 1983, 1985, 1986 and 1987 I have attended International Summer Courses in Germany, Friebourg, Heidelberg (three times) and Leipzig.
In 1987 I published a book of poetry “A child of Karl Marx and Coca-cola”.
From 1987-1990 I organized evening happenings for “Poetry and Music” where most of eminent Greek poets were presented.
In 1990 I was awarded a bursary by British Council and I was sent to Durham, England, where for one month I was trained as a teacher of English and in Human Resources approach.
In 1991 I divorced for the second time and I am single since then.
In 1991 I practiced for the R.S.A. (D.O.T.E.), which is a diploma for overseas teachers of English. In 1991 an Anthology came out of these evenings called “Balandega”.
In 1990 I started also working as an Educational Advisor and Interpreter with Private Schools of English.
In 1991 I have worked for the Radio doing cultural programs and in 1993 for private TV channel until 1995.
In 1992 we established a cultural club and I was responsible for “Poetry and Music Evenings” until 1996.
In 1994 I published a book of novel and poetry called “Ariel”.
In 1996 I published poetry “Eloise”.
In 1999 the novel “Ariel” was included in the Novel Anthology by the well known in Greece anthologist and writer Renos Apostolides, who is the most reputated anthologist in Greece.
A book of mine under the title: “Longing is blowing the sail” is now under edition. It contains two novels, “Longing is blowing the sail”, “A small story out of Oedipian complex”, 19 poems and a play “Carmen”, which is a transcription from the known novel by Prosper Merime.
I have also under edition an essay called “Psychology and Art”.
I have also published essays, pieces of criticism and poems in a lot of good literary magazines and newspapers, national and local, for instance “Eleftherotypia” (newspaper), “Planodion”, “Alevevan”, “Schedia”, “Ellitrohos”, “Periplous” and so on (magazines). I am member of the Pan Hellenic Poetry Society.
