Chris Tyrimos Poems
Comments about 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 ...
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.