Chris Tyrimos

Chris Tyrimos Poems

1. Deo Favente (The Life And Trials Of Foxman - 3) 7/30/2012
2. Department Store Delusions 7/30/2012
3. Desire 7/30/2012
4. Dinosaurs In The Bath 7/30/2012
5. Foxman (The Life And Trials Of Foxman - 1) 7/30/2012
6. Last Night In Tangiers 7/30/2012
7. Meet Me At The Diner 7/30/2012
8. Networks 7/30/2012
9. Pretium Victoriae 7/30/2012
10. Diversions 7/30/2012
11. Knickerbocker Glory 10/16/2012
12. The Back Seat 12/13/2012
13. Space 4/2/2013
14. Supermoon 6/25/2013
15. Desperado 7/8/2013
16. Desperado (Part Two) 7/17/2013
17. Desperado (Part Three) 7/22/2013
18. Snowmen 9/21/2013
19. February 2/4/2014
20. Symbolic Nonsense I 2/24/2014
21. Sich Hüten 3/2/2014
22. Nostalgia And Wet Playtimes. 3/23/2014
23. Nature 4/28/2014
24. Observations Of A Ghost 8/5/2014
25. Foxman Revisited (The Life And Trials Of Foxman - 2) 7/16/2015
26. Foxman's Observations (The Life And Trials Of Foxman - 4) 11/6/2015
27. Mercury In Sagittarius 11/29/2015
28. Symbolic Nonsense Two 12/13/2015
29. Frog Returns (Childrens) 12/18/2015
30. Tea 12/30/2015
31. Sliding Doors (Prose In Stanzas) 5/21/2018
32. The Sixpenny Maid 5/31/2018
33. Mr Frog [ Childrens ] 7/30/2012
34. Radio Times 7/30/2012
35. Marrakech: Or The Tale Of The Monkey In The Jemaa El Fna 10/28/2013

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Best Poem of Chris Tyrimos

Marrakech: Or The Tale Of The Monkey In The Jemaa El Fna

The futility of an ego cased in a personality, in flesh.
Ideas came to me in a juvenile milky coffee.
Semi copper coloured bricks in a cheap attention seeking hostel.
Lemonades and liars, frauds and friars, princes and peoples.

Men in the cancerous Indian summer of their lives.
Paying for lust, a well oiled transaction.
My soul spirit affected by the noise, bright lights, a voyeurism.
As viewer, more foreign hypocrite, 'Noel Simsolo' moral administrator.

A bizarre re-affirmation of local suffering, somehow,
confirmed in replica watches and matching tungsten ...

Read the full of Marrakech: Or The Tale Of The Monkey In The Jemaa El Fna

Meet Me At The Diner

Welcome to my world, yours, ours.
Meet at the diner you knocked down with those
expensive beautiful lies voiced in mock red leather electric booths.
The trifle reminded me of the French revolution.

Touch hands through the ruffled edges of a newspaper.
Wet soggy cinema tickets, un cut, never used.
Carve a slice of cherry pie and preserve our date.
Fill your cup with metallic black coffee, big black eyes.

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