Fairytale of the Beautiful of the Big Birds
He put on the gypsy, tin armour and lay down on the new bright, green grass in the light warmth of the spring noon. However, some whispers from outside kept him from getting into the deep lust of the sweetly light blue sky and enjoying the two small clouds that sailed far away at the end of the horizon. There were two very high poplars there too. Indeed, on the north wall, was a heavy partition that hid the door (it wasn’t a secret after all). Soon, the door opened, the partition was pulled aside, and a man, wearing a toga appeared in the opening. The poet got up, went close to the porthole and glanced outside while his right hand caressed the back of the lion. “We are close” were the exact words he said, “We are close to Beirut” Suddenly he turned on the faucet and water started flowing, rising in the space dangerously. Then, he runs, grabs her breasts and kisses her lips passionately. He felt a fire spreading in his viscera, a fiery ring wrapping his kidneys while the merciless rise of his penis commenced. This phallus strong like marble, was erected at the shore and during the hours of the day, a chorus of girls, embracing each other, crowned with flowers came and sang. Some held hands and with slow steps, created a circle around the idol constantly singing a slow, serious and kind song. One girl walked away from the dance, kneeled and wound a gramophone. The poet was there too. “More pale than the Moon,” he said to her.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 