9 kwietnia 2014
STONES IN CRYPT
It was midnight moon
cruising in the bedroom.
I step aside in the depressed window,
watch the overwhelming spillover.
I listen, then do not listen to alien voices
of bipolar beings, speaking Aryan,
artfully in cryptic signs
crunching the bones.
Black crucibles throw up bright stars,
in cruciferous crow bars. Pungent
smell of armpits. Dizzing heights
of memorials, becoming digital targets.
Deathless deluge of totems, claim the
corpse of earth. The screams start
coming from buried caskets.
Divining rods disappear.
Blue spirits trying to fly away.
Satish Verma
9 sierpnia 2025
Jaga
9 sierpnia 2025
dobrosław77
9 sierpnia 2025
ais
8 sierpnia 2025
violetta
8 sierpnia 2025
absynt
8 sierpnia 2025
absynt
8 sierpnia 2025
wiesiek
8 sierpnia 2025
Bezka
8 sierpnia 2025
ais
7 sierpnia 2025
sam53