9 sierpnia 2012
REVVED UP
It was getting dark.
The insane curve of greed was rising.
I would not draw the boundaries
between the words.
The finch was immersed
in soliloquies and light was waiting
inside the seeds.
I open my eyes
and yell at the clouds in hyperboles
becoming stranger to myself.
Who belongs here
in slit eyes? Each flower was leaving
a blemish, for the winter.
Tell me,
who you are in the twist of reality.
A proverb is going to be taken away.
Satish Verma
24 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek
23 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek
23 kwietnia 2025
Bernadetta
23 kwietnia 2025
Bernadetta
22 kwietnia 2025
wiesiek
22 kwietnia 2025
Yaro
22 kwietnia 2025
Yaro
22 kwietnia 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
21 kwietnia 2025
Arsis
21 kwietnia 2025
Marcin Olszewski