26 lipca 2012
SINGING WOODS
Walking out of the body
I was drowned,
accepted and condoned by depth of sorrow.
A wide circle of testosterone
giving pardon to a sin
becomes sexless.
You were overwhelmed by the missed beats.
Your prosaic crime of not fathering
the words becomes a belly dance
for wrinkled verses. There was no meaning left
for the artifacts, the national shame.
The autumn was praying for the
well-being of pine needles in fog. The repetition
of the outbursts was cold and I
was smiling.
Satish Verma
2 kwietnia 2026
wiesiek
2 kwietnia 2026
sam53
2 kwietnia 2026
sam53
1 kwietnia 2026
wiesiek
1 kwietnia 2026
guccilittlepiggy
31 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
31 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
31 marca 2026
sam53
31 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
30 marca 2026
absynt