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Writing, Life Coaching, Criminology, and more. But I simply do these, I am not these. I just am.

Three dots can say it all…

Three dots.
A full stop that doesn’t want to be alone.
An ending that continues.
A declaration of an omission; an omission which reverses itself, if decoded by the reader.
A manifestation of cowardice on its one “edge”, but the absolute courage on its other.
Unclear communication on the one side of the coin, pure intercommunication on the other.

A lack-of-words so “wordy”, that includes the completeness of non-lacking.

A mark so liberated and liberating, that gives the absolute freedom to the receivers of the message to interpret it as they please. …

Weekend’s prompt: inner situation=>outer projection

Lion, lion,
Where are you?
Will you come
out of the blue?

If I kill you,
would this mean
I’m a monster, too

Was your figure
in written formed
just for secrets
to be unexposed?

I am ready
to confront
all the symbols
you enclose.

You exist
for me to see
that my fear
is unreal.

You appear
for me to know
how much
I can “grow”.

When a fear
I project,
there you are
with teeth prepared.

I’m not here
to be eaten,
unless by terror
I’ll be bitten.

Oh, you,
big and wild cat,
you’re a kind of


2 limericks

Present through being absent;
two letters are missing from the accent.
An omission that recants itself.
Common sense fills the empty “shelf”.
We all know “__’cause” needs “be” to be content.

William J Spirdione tickled my hand
by inviting me to the Limerick-land.
He said I might like to be a cannon fodder;
What does he mean? I wonder…
Isn’t it obvious I’m a veteran who’ll withstand?

As you can understand, these Limericks are written in response to the prompt in which my fellow writer William J Spirdione invited me to participate.

They are both connected to “because”.
The first one…

Come, my beloved hurricane,
take all the beliefs I have molded,
empty me from labels and ideas,
scan every cell, take out every foreign matter,
wash away every earthly memory,
liberate my actions from past experiences of this life-cycle,
enter every organ, and absorb the rest of the consequences
of all the almost-reactions that ended up as repressed intentions,
leave me naked to serve the pure motives that the principle of life has,
uncover the field beyond earthly mind,
where I am so often,
experiencing even the being beyond experiencing condition.

I give you access to every inner corner…

Prompt: Your favorite sacred tree

It can grow wherever I am

It’s a real imaginary tree;
whenever I want, it’s here with me.
It is the one to which I climb
to cheat on the ground with the sky.
When I stand up for myself,
it sprightly extends.
When I put my needs at discount,
it wrinkles its branches to the ground.
Calm in Autumn,
accepting the fall.
Peaceful in Spring
respecting the cycle.
Wisely living for the now,
anxious for nothing, somehow.
It offers shelter, hosting nests,
having also previously nurtured itself.
Νo water well quenches anyone’s thirst
unless it is filled first.

When I’m on the top of it
freedom it is that I breathe in.
I’m perfectly balanced,
I look at the Sun,
I put on my wings,
I give birth…

All over the space

Every thing encloses its future; so do I.

It’s being drawn as I walk.
So, it isn’t exactly future.
Every step forms the point on which my foot stands
at that moment.
The soil is being created as my foot moves towards it,
and it is fully configured just when my sole touches it.
Synchronous willing, acting, creating.
Nothing was there before, and nothing will be
— externally — after I move on to the next step.

My nows are enclosed in me.
I carry all my timings, as time folds over itself.
What happens within is all that remains.

as long as I’m not “blind”

an eye turned in a vertical position.
I see it like this
’cause it serves my mission.

“ίta” is the previous one
in the Greek alphabet.
When written as a word,
it means “defeat”.

So, after a defeat,
I need to see something in me.
If I see it,
“loss” is turned into victory.

This is the alpha and the omega
of how I see my battles.
I never lose;
I whether win or I’m being “blind”.

Here’s an interesting piece, written by my Medium & Vocal friend, Patrick M. Ohana

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives

Flames always go upwards

A lying body.
Face upwards.
The lifted back forms a curve.
Heart and solar plexus are attracted by the sky;
a bridge for the energy waves to pass by,
again and again,
around the body,
caressing the navel,
going upper and lower,
embracing this soul and its vessel,
from head to toe.

You and I, my Self.

Left hand holds the bed sheet tight,
in this moment of self-pleasuring
that goes beyond just earthly instincts' satisfaction.
Right hand directed straightly by the conductor,
knowing the frequency, the “where”, the “how” to touch.

Nous, mind, and brain make love;
images not…

In the aftermath of my present life-cycle

So, if I die in a few minutes,
if the beef steak I eat gets stuck in my throat,
what will the “backwash” of me reveal?
What will my stuff show tomorrow?
The research is always revealing.
Relatives search and explore like investigators.
They’ll swim in all my lakes
and they’ll discover all my gators.
Strange, beautiful, mystical, maybe shocking.
An opportunity to see the other side
of the beloved one’s persona;
what appeared and what they were hiding.
Walking through the wall,
seeing their private self.
Finding contradictions,
like in those photo games;
“Spot the differences between the 2 images”.
The public self, the private self.
Did you expect everything you found?
Is she a surprise after her…

Until ready to “see”

Once upon a time, in a medium village,
two men were talking about bougainvilleas.
How do you take care of yours?
Mine have problems; they’re not tall.

I face the same situation.
I try hard for their salvation.

They don’t grow, and their flowers are withered,
although I see progress once in a while.

Do you know what makes me really mad?
That stupid Milo, next to your house.
His garden is blossoming these days,
although I sprayed it with weed-killers…

Yeah, he is gardening all day long;
WTF? He doesn’t have to work? …

Anthi Psomiadou

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