15 stycznia 2016
Dirty Homes
While going my way, searching an eternal flame
I confront an extraordinary trauma,
God does not live, but dies in me daily.
There was green pain in this condemned strangeness
as the young world moves on
dancing with joy.
It was not a coincidence
that intellectual anesthesia
was not able to bring good sleep.
So much passes by your city
existential traffic, soaring above arguments,
but a chilled, far away voice
defends the crumbling palace of syntax.
The masks are crying from the split walls
languishing in the hopeless garden.
Wherever you go, the windows are closed
and the smoke rings
rising from the chimneys of dirty homes.
24 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
23 lipca 2025
Marek Jastrząb
23 lipca 2025
Bezka
23 lipca 2025
wiesiek
23 lipca 2025
Misiek
23 lipca 2025
sam53
23 lipca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
22 lipca 2025
wiesiek
22 lipca 2025
ajw
22 lipca 2025
sam53