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Poems By Giorgia Stavropoulou


Giorgia Stavropoulou is a poet, writer of absurdist fiction and a former clinical psychotherapist trained in systems theory and Lacanian psychoanalysis. She was born in Athens, Greece but raised in a bilingual home in multilingual Belgium, and now lives in Southern California. Her work has appeared in City (Journal of South Asian Literature), Journey Curves Anthology 1: writers reading in Athens, Zombie-Logic, Out-of-Print magazine, Clockwise Cat and Entropy. She also holds postgraduate degrees in Anthropology, South-Asian languages and literatures and Creative Writing (Manchester Metropolitan University).


hurricanes of fire


deep
under the sleepless
black soil
of the pacific ocean

a spur
puffing itself up

ignited
by your dead heart
beating in
arrhythmic rocks

stones

dwelling in alchemical lakes
of cobalt & amphibian 

in these dead waters
aquatic flames
of frozen fire
thinking themselves more alive
like unborn placenta
they want to form a human hand
they want reach out of the dark
in black lotus movements
ploughing through pale or
nostalgic corals

picture submarines at full speed
or fighter jets circling above gigantic tremors of salt
there are warships moving full speed ahead in the pacific 

their mission?
to inspect 
dwarf suns
being born
at 36 000 under
from a womb of archaic fire

suns
accompanied by
seventy-seven underwater 
blizzards

with turquoise-lightening sparking off in murdered water
and vibrations encapsulating the whales of regret


yes it thunders 
my friend 
deep down in the pacific ocean

isn’t your floor trembling and shaking?
hasn’t water told you
how exhausted it really is?

sea salt is plotting its next step

but don't worry
just take another sip
from your cocktail
at manhattan beach
while you still can

because
at your horizon

the polymorph perverse
hurricanes of fire began their ritual eruption
swallowing the disheveled pigeons of desire 
blurring the neat divisions
between above and below

you know
monsieur 

there’s a demon
inside you

waiting

to rearrange  
your plastic organs 


only $2.50 


india

an ant colony of shades of brown

in banaras

at the shores of the holy ganges

where corpses are crisp

and human ashes are mistaken for the heavens

an american breakfast is only $2.50

the view you get for free

bon appetite

no need to tip 



in black city’s invisible auschwitz


in black city’s

invisible auschwitz



i meet the angel of death

about to execute jazz music



my eyelashes adorned

with electroshocks

and my legs open:

clitoris erect

i sit like a real man



my corpse marching  

on whole notes

and half notes

when prison guards

mechanically

behead themselves

with samurai swords

and sound waves

attach themselves

onto my silicon skin

like termites

wriggling melodically

into my pubic hair

when my liver

escorts improvisation

to resurrect itself



when that happens

mermaids armed with condoms

and automatic rifles

will swim through the soft music

of city lights

staring at burning butchers



and all suns will

hold their breath

while the color red

sets foot again

in black buildings

and giant spiders

will menstruate on my hands



female robots

will burst out

in loud laughter

their silver teeth dancing

in bordeaux blue ecstasy

(hysteria gone overboard)



till the butchers

are finally buried



then the sirens will

piss out of joy

on their graves

and bob kaufman

will recite seven of

his jail poems

in black city’s

invisible auschwitz


This post first appeared on Zombie Logic Review: Poetry For Outsiders And Outl, please read the originial post: here

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Poems By Giorgia Stavropoulou

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