27 june 2013
DARK LANGUAGE
Wanted to wear the grief uncrying,
sitting on the bank, counting the waves,
watching the swaying of earthen lamps.
There was a little water on the moon,
charged atoms settling in the lap of a sponge.
The water becomes the moon,
floating on goat's milk.
My descent starts to find the truth.
Where the water has gone from the eyes?
The mirrors always tell the lie.
The headless body writhes in the dust,
words change the author of a murder.
A crowd finds a knife only.
Once again a century weeps!
Satish Verma
17 march 2025
Eva T.
17 march 2025
wiesiek
17 march 2025
absynt
17 march 2025
absynt
17 march 2025
absynt
17 march 2025
ajw
17 march 2025
ajw
15 march 2025
absynt
15 march 2025
absynt
15 march 2025
ajw