19 january 2013
THE BELIEVERS
Inheriting the dust of street
something of a lofty ideal
in politics of poverty, I want to get back
to my native moon.There are
too much wounds here.
My green blessings came from the dark.
Sun was altering the geometry of crops.
Genes were manipulated and the
debate was running on fiction.
Down the drain went the hybrids.
To glow or not to glow was the big question
and the hunger was discovering the cause.
Suicides had toppled the numbers
and clouds had become colorful.
God knows when the ceremony will end.
Satish Verma
16 may 2024
1605wiesiek
16 may 2024
O TrinitySatish Verma
15 may 2024
1505wiesiek
15 may 2024
ToastJaga
15 may 2024
Studying LifeSatish Verma
14 may 2024
NonethelessSatish Verma
13 may 2024
I Write With Red InkSatish Verma
11 may 2024
Everything Is BlackSatish Verma
10 may 2024
Wielki wypasJaga
10 may 2024
Tangerines SingSatish Verma