28 august 2020
Forever In Coma
Zinnias were stalking.
The fading moon hangs upside down
from the massive Ficus tree.
Ultimately the grace withdraws.
Now you sit under the bo-tree
becoming a wet Buddha.
Unthinking, unblinking
falling out of thoughts,
and start supervising the barren landscape.
The dawn sets free, the white
pegions to become prey of ravens.
Would you talk about peace?
The evil touches every next door.
I will write a long letter
to me, to unwrite the sermons.
13 august 2025
wiesiek
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
12 august 2025
wiesiek
11 august 2025
Jaga
11 august 2025
absynt
11 august 2025
absynt