21 listopada 2012
ABSURD FLIGHT
Rain of victims.
Crossing a parched field
a summer moon was laughing
like a naked lie.
I intend to lie in state,
no grass was going to cry.
A red spot was growing
on your chest.
Were you shot in heart?
Creeping, they want to put the sandal paste
on the dome.
I walk waist-high between
the kneeling heads.
Who were the inmates of the
black house,
which was so sexy?
I do not mean anything, over the head
a kite was flying.
Satish Verma
12 marca 2026
wiesiek
12 marca 2026
Weronika
12 marca 2026
sam53
11 marca 2026
Jaga
11 marca 2026
Jaga
11 marca 2026
wiesiek
11 marca 2026
Atanazy Pernat
11 marca 2026
Atanazy Pernat
11 marca 2026
ais
11 marca 2026
Kreton