Andrew Stergiou
Andrew Stergiou Poems
you have been given everything,
the tea cups have been filled,
drained and emptied,
a thousand times, filled again,
...
ENEMIES:
One does not need to search to find enemies,
for enemies are always found,
so throughout history,
...
dark and often mysterious,
cryptic and lost,
redundant and found,
never nice never good
...
Andrew Stergiou Biography
This world has been made a police I don't mind people who are ignorant of that, I censor no one, but do find their ignorance highly insensitive and offensive, and regardless of their political affiliation require them to act accordingly. As the concentration camps were filled with many of different sorts I don't discriminate either but I do exercise my abilities in exorcising the world of that which plagues it. ~~~~~ART OR DEATH! ~~~~~ In true poetry which is never written, TRUE POETRY IS NEVER WRITTEN, NEVER SPOKEN NEVER FOUND, BUT EXISTS NONE THE LESS. burn your manuscripts, you have failed once again, burn your cheapened books, slickly priced and numbered, signed and addressed, cast your idols into fires, throw yourself upon the ground, prostrate yourself in fear, before god and gods, raise yourself in song, caste away your right and wrong, nurture weak and vanquish wrong, sit in darkness, close your eyes blinded by the lights, hearken in solitude nothing, weld shut the gates of hell and heaven, piss on flowers wilting, bleed on lunch naked, gaze into the dead of night, feel the rays of stars and sun. This is going to sound like a rant to some people, to other like nagging bitching complainer which is not actually me though I have my moods. After years of experience I can say I care and I don't which will sound like waffling, indecision to other people, in what may mildly be called ambivalence, which is not me either. Woody Allen is an Alumnus of my High School as were many notable people who I never met, this will sopund like name drop[ping though that isn't true either, as for me it is mereluy a frame of references I use in processing thoughts. Generally I hate these little boxes that seem all too inadequate to reflect the human being or subject in question. In attempts to be free of constraint people attempt to defy definition while I crave it, and which humble I admit failure though not total failure. Some in my position state they are musicians, writers, poets, painters, creators, engraver, videographers, producers, actors, illustrators, which does not even touch the attributes of iconoclast, rebel, human, male, sensitive, impulsive et cetera. So I am sorry to disappoint all of you because this profile will never satisfy anyone including myself because the boxes of space to be filled are much, too much small, as you may have noticed. Generally I like homemade cookies and glasses of cold milk, or drink right out of the container if I buy fresh milk (which is okay since often I live alone) . I am the first documented publisher in the world of an online art literary journal, founding TENTRA-ARTNET in 1988, documented by James Taranto (currently the senior editor of the Online Journal, Wall Street Journal) who called me 'an internet pioneer of the wacky left', though I strongly disagree as he is a member of the wacky Reaganite right, who works for Rupert Murdoch, and as he may have clandestinely interviewed me as a hack job that was part of a counter-intelligence program of the New York City Res Squad. I am a low income entrepreneur with eclectic interests, where the corporate world lacks integrity, honesty, creativity, often static rigid pompous, arrogant, counter productive, wasteful, struggling to succeed they fall back on hack formulas. Mastery is not achieved by academic degrees, fancy schools, or even experience and money, it is achieved by an openness to challenge problems, by seeking questions and answers, in determination to build, make it work, and ethics and morality to treat people right. Better or worse a entrepreneurial artist for last 30+ years I have had no real interest in the commercial world though I am fully familiar with it as a prison. Recognized as an internet pioneer in IT since my EBBS in 1988, my sites excel in my diverse personal interests, incorporating as Universal Living Arts Inc. to reflect that, as I am an accomplished musician and artist that now encompass styles of jazz and world music, rock, and blues. I have met and know many notable people, though as many people perhaps to not believe, it will come to them as a surprise that that is something I have truthfully stated. Just because you are a well known artist does not make you rich, though many like to draw you in to use that against you, Unfortunately many artists do not see themselves in the complex position they are as being special and like any ordinary person. As for America and Americans, in the current state it exists as a fascist police state I take all the standard accepted norms as questionable, corrupted, or tainted, as society itself is in question as intolerable as conflicting with itself. Call me an asshole at your own peril, for then you will have to ask what are you. The first documented publisher in the world of an online art literary journal, founding TENTRA-ARTNET in 1988, documented by James Taranto (currently the senior editor of the Online Journal, Wall Street Journal) calling me 'an internet pioneer of the wacky left'. An entrepreneur with eclectic interests I may be wacky but I think that is more so due to my current age and state of health rather than the good judgement of Mr. James Taranto.)
The Best Poem Of Andrew Stergiou
Insatiable Desire
you have been given everything,
the tea cups have been filled,
drained and emptied,
a thousand times, filled again,
in many life times wasted,
the world is a grave yard,
in unmarked graves of millions,
in a thousand years,
of a thousand millennium,
in billions drifting in a nebulae of stars,
you have given life, born in dreams,
providing death is not your affair,
for you are life itself,
you are the longing unsatisfied,
in fires eternally unquenched,
in the darkness, fire is unseen,
as in the light, blinded,
lost in a rambling of stars,
unseen, unheard, unknown,
without questions and answers,
of tired conversations which lapse,
forgotten, forgiven, in folly,
of unseen laughter,
of cats crying heartbroken,
in a wilderness of naked poses,
of imperfections and blemishes,
given clothes and wholesome meals,
still naked and hunger,
for unborn and dying,
there seems no hope,
in the tricks of the minds,
conceiving what does not exist,
in touches and embraces,
of emotional connections,
in what appears as selfishness,
in red ochre, and crimson,
there is only time to die,
there is no time to live or cry,
there are no explanations,
of storms and gentle breezes,
the rage ranting, the quiet whisper,
the empty heart,
overwhelmed in lacking,
what is seen and unknown,
as empty, full yet unfilled,
forgiveness in living,
that we die, as immortals,
for truth can not be,
commercialized, marketed, spoken and sold,
as all we see are lies,
those lies die with us,
those words rest in graves, and hunger,
for debts to be paid,
in lives to forfeit,
by hearts to be won,
never lost, nor found, but gained.
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