white Christmastime

snow is at its prettiest
with a roof above your head.
hope there's one for you too, out there.

______

white christmastime by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

never too soon to clap

it’s the rehearsals,

not the final show,

that I love.

and not even last ones,

where you got to recite all the words,

dance all the steps,

harness all the musical notes,

so many times already.

no.

it’s the first ones,

where the excitement of something new is flooding the room,

where every attempt is a little awkward

and a little funny,

where I get to see your inner fire

forging your body into the most elegant,

most exquisite,

and most precise instrument of Art.

know this:

you were already perfect when you started,
you just needed to learn how to show it.

I was there;

I saw.

______

never too soon to clap by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

irreversible

[Trigger Warning: (Spoiler) Death] 

‘dad,

I just

had an accident

with

my car.

dad,

it

was a little girl.’

______

irreversible by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

on the day the Donald that was no Duck got elected world leader

you know what,

my only hope now lies with Democracy

and its incomparable ability

to maintain status quo,

no matter who gets elected.

I always considered this to be it's main flaw.

never before today did I realize,

- not just realize, feel it in my bones -

that Democracy was designed

as a fail-safe switch.

______

on the day the Donald that was no Duck got elected world leader by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

in the subway, between 8:45 and 8:48 am, on a monday, going to work, stuck next to two people with smelly armpits

I never accepted organized happiness.
you get up,
you dress yourself in your best clothing,
and then you go t o a place to “have fun”.
how does this even work?
I find it ever more insane when considering the existence of people that do not consume alcohol.
ok, true their existence is somewhat problematic to conceive and come to terms with anyway,
but still.
you go and you have fun,
as if fun is something you can fit in little boxes,
in little rooms,
in little cd’s with the greatest pop songs currently out.
fun is accident,
fun is surprise,
fun is randomness,
fun is people that make it funny,
fun will never be something that one can plan
poetry too

______

in the subway, between 8:45 and 8:48 am, on a monday, going to work, stuck between two people with smelly armpits by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

as simple as it gets

the river kept flowing
- as rivers do -
endlessly pushing against the rock.

the rock kept standing
- as rocks do -
endlessly holding its ground against the river,
but briefly got to wondering:

how could it tell,
that the thing it's up against,
is a river,
and not, let’s say, maybe, another rock?
seriously,
no sight, no touch, no smell,
just the general feeling of pressure.
how could it tell?

the answer was quite simple:
the storyteller named them thus.
no storyteller would ever name a rock
“river,”
right?

and they wouldn't even dare name a river
“rock,”
right?

thank god for storytellers,
they know which is which and
tell you straight away,
right?

______

as simple as it gets by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

acquaintance

jumping off a towering cliff

into the dark and stormy sea

that lies inside your mind,

I couldn’t help but wonder if

I’ll ever be allowed to see

the ocean one might find.

______

acquaintance by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

Mrs. Lana Singworthy and the chamber of ice-cream

"good day Mrs. Singworthy,

five different scoops of ice-cream, please,

whatever flavor you like.”

“how different?

we’ve got quite different pineapple from the pharma industry,

some substantially different vanilla PhD,

or even surprisingly different salesman’s chocolate.”

“I doubt chocolate could be any different,

to be honest.”

“that’s what makes it surprising.

and the toppings?

we can make it up to twice as different with them!

how about whipped childhood,

or first-job sprinkles?

maybe a little extra parents’ expectations on the side?”

“just, whatever you like, Mrs. Singworthy.

it’s up to you, really.”

“tough request, lad,

and impolite on your part,

forcing a poor, old woman to decide for you

and take the blame for the outcome.”

“it’s not like that at all,

I just trust your taste.”

“that’s what everyone says;

I just explained to you what everyone means.”

“…

Mrs. Singworthy,

what’s wrong?

you are bleeding on my ice-cream!”

“don’t worry, lad,

it’s just my secret syrup of wasted dreams.

I promise you, it’s delicious,

though kinda bittersweet, I guess.”

______

Mrs. Lana Singworthy and the chamber of ice-cream by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

control

if a puppet was

all you wanted, then just play

with yourself instead.

______

control by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

conscience

what if

every time you passed by a helpless person

and ignored them

without even the tiniest bit of remorse

- not even a small pinch just below the heart,

what if

that was enough to spark

such a tremendous rebellion inside your own body

as the one we tend to call

“cancer”.

would it change anything?

would it make you care?

would it make me?

______

conscience by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

just this once

I like the restless

for I consider myself to be one.

I’ve been watching them,

and me,

for as long as I can remember.

the restless realize,

that there’s too much out there,

and no time for all of it,

so they jump at every single opportunity,

to experience more.

that’s why they seem restless.

in time,

what I finally noticed about the restless,

is this:

despite all this constant need,

for new and exciting times,

they settle.

maybe not generally,

maybe not always,

but,

when looking for a partner.

they mostly settle.

why?

because the restless keep moving

on and on and on

and never spend one moment

to find each other.

thus,

when the time is right,

they consider their options,

and pick one that is not restless

one that just stood there,

one that is safe,

and they keep them.

and so,

using this awkward transition,

that has a huge room for improvement,

we come

to you.

what makes you so special?

well,

I don’t exactly know,

to be honest.

it’s just this feeling that I get

when I look at you.

this very distinct feeling that

if I ever ended up with you

I wouldn’t have settled for you.

you wouldn’t have been the best

of the available choices.

you would have actually been the best.

______

just this once by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

regret

next time you find yourself

in the middle of a feast or party,

suddenly hearing no music,

no laughs and shouts.

the taste of your drink weak, bland.

its burning down your throat just a gray,

distant memory,

from a moment ago.

your cigarette just a stick soon to be ash.

the clock ticking ever so slowly,

with each single chest muscle pulling ever so tightly.

next time you find yourself

thinking of what could have been,

stop,

say “fuck it”,

and have a drink for me instead.

I promise to do the same for you.

______

regret by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.