Gigi - the Count Dracula

Gigi - Count Dracula

He is the sea, the seagull and the breeze '
Be careful pal; he hides behind the tree!
Inside the sneaky shades he lurks
because you've drunk too many Cuty Sarks.

You, silly chump! You're shaking on your feet;
The Count Dracula he is, a tough tidbit;
he lives inside your foolishness' resource
and punishes your wrongs without remorse.

Excess in drinking could be bad for you;
'tis not you will become a drunk boo-hoo
but he'll transform to a baseball bat
and if you drink again, he'll kick your butt.

I know you're stupefied and much scared
cause Gigi hides in pizza boxes where'd
jump out, if you besotted are and fool,
and will consume your pizza, super-cool.

Admit it, dude! You're shivering in fear!
But if you prayed he would disappear,
expect him to start dancing everywhere-s,
and jingle, so, his spurs on your stairs.

Ha ha! Hill Billy, you! Outside your house,
behind the pumpkins, sound the irked meows:
bewildered Gigi cats will jump ahead,
inside your car and on your empty head.

You should, thus, paint your house pink and fluo green
cause if you stall before your PC screen
he'll haunt the scripts of your poetic calls
and bats will eat your order of spring rolls.

Georgios Venetopoulos

The Sorceress

The Sorceress

The fog's requests accosted us above the ocean vastness
and scattered stars defined afar the tempest's resurrection;
our cargo diesel engines thrummed as she immersed in darkness
directing draperies of fog, enticing wrong direction.

Half-visible the skylines danced with mist that spread abundant
the Sorceress spelled out upon our travel to Atlantic
expanding borderlines beyond, where waves were moving rampant
- the sylphlike wafting of the sea, engulfed our first mechanic.

Hence, she declared, among the mists, her oracle and candor;
presumptuous she coquetted on Hades' shadowed orchard,
as chthonic forms misguided us to deluged reefs, asunder,
beguiling sailors to conduct in ghostly seas, unconquered.

Tangential the drapes of night became our route's incisors;
bewitched by the draping fog and sorceries bespoken
we heard the Sirens' singing calls, ambiguous advisers
as waves embraced our steadfast bow that led to death unbroken:

' Redeeming waters deeply wait,
before our early turns to late.
your blue, aquatic route shall cure
whate'er is sorrowful and pure.
and if you manage to disband,
shall meet me on your meadowland
My voice bespoke in your soul,
we'll celebrate on Astral Hall;
Address me in your heart and dare,
so welcome to my seaward fair. '

Iambic verse
2013 Georgios Venetopoulos