Ben-Hur: From Here to Eternity, by Lampropoulou Athanasia

Cleft in twain now looking for my M(ark)
launching of my Odyssey but there awaits the narc!
“Be a goodfella now,” he said
“not a raging bull” in a titanic set.
Lost in translation and bearing my se7en sins
I’ve been searching for my dolce vita ever since.
Being a pariah among parasites
I now count 12 years a slave in wuthering heights.
And although I try hard to be the artist that they seek,
I only get identified with Zorba the Greek.
Pan’s labyrinth lies ahead
But I’ve got the gladiator with me my friend.
Stepping upon a shape of water
A desert flower emerged.
“Be braveheart my dear when you get discharged.”
The best years of our lives are yet to come
but I only long for the silence of the lamb.
The sting is deeply rooted in the skin I live in,
The English patient they call me, the nonliving.
I once heard that one flew over the cuckoo’s nest
but he was left all stranded in the west;
not even a streetcar named desire to save his soul
just the right scapegoat to pigeonhole.
So there he was, commissioned to kill a mockingbird
a walking carmagnole with no safe bet.
He tossed three coins in the fountain-his ex machina appeared.
“Will you help me my fair lady?” he said afeared.
“This west side story is your destiny
but beware on the waterfront of the upcoming mutiny!”
The Occident is no place for a godfather.
He will rise, he will thrive, he will fall-like any other.
His empire – gone with the wind now
looking for his Gigi, his eternal vow.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest