18 february 2015
STILL BIRTH
Roses had gone wilting
after surgery.
Biovision
of acrylic lenses
was projecting a corrupt green mount.
The rubber king had a papery laugh.
How you deal with a maverick –
matter – of – factly?
Pall bearers of a tall legend
were carrying nitroglycerine sticks
unfazed.
Saboteurs of moon night were scheming.
I was sick of pretentions.
Brown and black scars
become a honeycomb
hiding the agenda.
Stigmatized devotion gets back at you
after still birth of truth.
I will wait sine die for the verdict
of hope.
15 october 2025
wiesiek
15 october 2025
Jaga
14 october 2025
wiesiek
13 october 2025
Jaga
13 october 2025
wiesiek
12 october 2025
wiesiek
11 october 2025
wiesiek
10 october 2025
wiesiek
8 october 2025
ajw
8 october 2025
ajw