7 april 2013
KNIVES WERE OUT
Do not stare at full moon.
The distance between love and hate
has narrowed.
Not for the shrunk radiation,
sun wants to hide behind the gift
of sunflowers.
The golden ring on the black finger,
I love the death’s cry,
fire will wear the jewel.
Collapsed roofs of the palace,
it is the cushioned agony
of the emptied king.
Everything was melting,
the child, the mother and the grain.
From where the water will come?
Satish Verma
30 july 2025
wiesiek
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
29 july 2025
wiesiek
28 july 2025
Jaga
28 july 2025
wiesiek
28 july 2025
absynt