28 marca 2013
I CANNOT WEEP
Those vicious strikes.
Beaten by sticks,
a panther dies on moon
in midstop.
Standing on a bomb
digging a tunnel
you pay obeisance to
the god of war.
This sweet revenge
for your forefathers?
Who could not walk straight
in the bastard crowd.
Spilling the sperms
O pimp of faith,
why are you selling
your poverty?
The heap of limbs
on the breast of a mother.
A hand of a child was cut
in every womb.
Satish Verma
13 maja 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
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Yaro
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Yaro
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wolnyduch
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wiesiek
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sam53
11 maja 2025
Yaro
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wiesiek
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Marcin Olszewski
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Marek Jastrząb