27 kwietnia 2016
Woods Of Craft
I woke up clutching the dreams
in deluge of tears.
Night had a brackish taste,
the other side of moon was dark.
One by one the stars were dying
Ideas were no longer candles in gale.
The final thought of liberty demanded
a tribute to partners in revolt.
I wanted a sunlit corner
in the blighted sky of hopes.
Instead of scorched impulse of a mob
injured truth, walking alone.
Give me a bitter fruit of certainty.
I don’t want to loose myself in fogs.
The truth must meet the lie-
alone, in woods of craft.
16 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
16 grudnia 2025
sam53
15 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
15 grudnia 2025
Jaga
14 grudnia 2025
sam53
14 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
14 grudnia 2025
violetta
14 grudnia 2025
jeśli tylko
13 grudnia 2025
sam53
13 grudnia 2025
Yaro