19 august 2020
Charisma
The caterpillar on the lawn-
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.
Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand-
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.
The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.
The eagle swoops on tiny
breasts, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.
25 april 2024
2504wiesiek
25 april 2024
QuartzSatish Verma
24 april 2024
The End StartsSatish Verma
23 april 2024
Three poemsAdam Pietras (Barry Kant)
22 april 2024
Echoes TravelSatish Verma
21 april 2024
od wewnątrzsam53
21 april 2024
2104wiesiek
21 april 2024
Picking RelicsSatish Verma
20 april 2024
To Dying MuseSatish Verma
19 april 2024
The VoyagerSatish Verma