14 stycznia 2015
KUPFERNICKLED
Looked downward –
the granite face,
to see imprinted kupfernickeled
god, lying in dust.
From where to where
we have come sleepwalking?
In freezing winds, like brown angels
with swollen lids.
White moon-poised to commit suicide?
Blindfolded heavy as lead
in the trade of spared lies?
Back pain will carry us not very far.
Green stems have yellow leaves now.
We start blaming ourselves
to keep the winter away,
in torn shirts.
16 marca 2025
Yaro
16 marca 2025
sam53
16 marca 2025
sam53
16 marca 2025
wiesiek
15 marca 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
15 marca 2025
wiesiek
15 marca 2025
Yaro
15 marca 2025
Yaro
15 marca 2025
absynt
15 marca 2025
absynt