28 lipca 2014
PINK CITY
Burnt-out myths in the old city
are stitching the lips of people.
Pink walls smell like blood.
Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless
deity on throne. Marigolds
are soaked in flowing tears.
Innocent wheels riding against blast,
stand still to measure
the half-life of seizures.
Cult was spreading in place,
fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting
the bleached fathers.
The ages rot under the sculptors.
We walk on water, wordless, sightless
for the thin hope.
Satish Verma
8 maja 2025
wiesiek
8 maja 2025
jeśli tylko
8 maja 2025
Yaro
7 maja 2025
violetta
7 maja 2025
wiesiek
7 maja 2025
Yaro
6 maja 2025
wolnyduch
6 maja 2025
Eva T.
6 maja 2025
Yaro
6 maja 2025
Marek Jastrząb