25 lipca 2013
A CENTRIOLUM
Never in those sizzling conflicts
displaying the pink eyes
you were able to reach me.
Was it metagenesis,
forgetting your selfhood?
Fragments of a beast were floating on sea.
Was umblicus of death broken
in the crotch of a mother?
Lay the corn again on my palm
to smoulder in the heat of sun.
Hunger will take revenge now.
Burn, burn my truth, burn!
I was the creator,
and I was destroyer
at the helm of unbuttoning coal.
It was a black, black sky,
where the stars were hesitant to show their
centrioles.
After the sun rises in a black dawn
there will be no shocks.
Satish Verma
11 lutego 2026
Yaro
11 lutego 2026
wiesiek
11 lutego 2026
Yaro
10 lutego 2026
Kreton
10 lutego 2026
Jaga
10 lutego 2026
nieRuda
10 lutego 2026
sam53
9 lutego 2026
wiesiek
8 lutego 2026
sam53
8 lutego 2026
sam53