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The P-Papers by Andrew Stergiou

Part I June 5th, 2005

For those with minds life is in need of explanation

Consideration and deliberation

One needs to explain matters in length and breadth

And if what you say is true

For your own sake in this existence

For even prison cells for the most part have dimensions


What diabolical fiend designs prison cells?

In that which can not be defined?

Without more where is it all going?

Does it have shape and form?

Who wants to suffocate who?

As one may suggest

Why issues are truly real issues?

When I raise no such issue


I ask not for such love unconditional

Nor without limits to be doled out

Without consideration of expense

In endless parcels of mail express
Nor Endless overseas calls

At 1pm and 1 am

So why is all that an issue?

When it is not an issue for me


I never dreamt of having slaves

Nor idol worshiping minions

(Though some offered me such bribes and inducements)

And as I don't want to have you as a slave
Why has that become an issue for me?

Did you make it one for me?

Did you decide foe me? And if so why?


But as we are here, it is a fact

Do you like the fact?

As I wish to leave and I ask where we are are to go:


For if we do not act we will stay here

And as such

Do you want to keep things as they are?

Non-threatening, distant not too heavy nor too casual,

Light you are in no hurry to change matters

Nor as fatalistic as I

Nor as you once were you rush no further into them


If not how would you like to change them?

What are you fishing for?

What are you waiting for?

A miracle consisting of white puff

An army walking on water?

Nigh maybe more in some unknown nondescript abyss

As your lips are shut

Of the uncharted waters on unmapped shores in unseen lands

Of planets never visited that you speak of not


In words which you lie even to yourself as you say you'll decide

Youíll decide One day some day Soon Where I donít know

Some day some day soon waiting deciding ranting raving

In what has not been conceiving

As it has been neither defined nor measured in the slightest

As the description which could be all too frightening

As evil as some evil witches brew

In what is sown is what is reaped

As black as night and as sweet as honey


But nigh it is not that either

So what is it and what will it be or become

What is expected? When it is easier said in Abyssinia

Under the moderate influence of spirits

Tried by courts in absentia

Rather than in sobering moments of espresso

Doctor Livingston I presume means Cabernet

Wine means the mythological nectar of the Gods


TheP-Papers Part II June 6, 2005


Crabby cranky tired malingering in writing about the eyes and ewes the pen moved itself

Upon empty pages with glistening modern ink

Rather than thinking to depend in wait on lazy thoughts

Letters words and phrases before the author pronounced them

Appearing as a dunce that can do better than any writer

In a corner with effort many try but few succeed

In what one writes

Balanced as it was "so inadequate" so empty,

Unfulfilled and shallow unworthy devoid of meaning

Related to many things crying tears in rivers

Hidden in the ancient pastry of Pompeii

Were a million annoyances

Complicated in unforgotten words

Lacking respect foul mouthed and dying was death

Sliding into the depths of some unknown precipice

Callously some cold fingers into a cavern

Hidden in a wall realizing limitations

As strange or stranger as strange can be

Feigning what is no stranger in fear

As most strange to self is neither the sum total nor some part

But strange itself as the essence undiscovered in metaphors

Self centered and fixed in fears

For which tiring there is a beating that is needed

Mad Bitch crying at the moon hidden in the forest

Rather than confront the light

Sullen shaded subtle shadows

Foul mouths stricken vindictively

In what is desired as hate in anger

But never found as such in caring


Universally Copyrighted, All Rights Reserved (copyright 1955-2006 Andrew Stergiou (aka Andreas) use at your own risk, contact for author's consent to fair use (fascists only have rights to drop dead, die, or be killed!)