Chris Tyrimos Poems
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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 ...
Last Night In Tangiers
Giants in Hell, was the exact look on that beggars face.
I walked and walked, back and forth passed back alleys, bars and ruins of Coptic churches. People at the bars were dancing to fill a void, a perfect way to hide, in their voodoo dance trance
Frame by frame, incorruptible Saturday night dancer.
Twelve years ago today, my car crash, blood everywhere.
The car crash that defined me, a near life experience, perfect balance of adrenaline, middle class ideas, baptism of fire, invincible tha