19 maja 2016
Repeating History
My nativity at peril
I wanted to stay away from myself
seeking anonymity in inwardness
Death had drawn a circle
my mode of survival depended on
the hopelessness of life
The ant-hills were growing!
The final assault will take place at night
at spiritual depths.
I will be seething with fake acoustics.
Kissing the blue lips of dawn
night bids adieu.
I will move quietly behind the corpse
A dark tribute to the mother of sorrow.
Flames on river, my body was burning
in blue waves
I was repeating history.
11 lutego 2025
Marek Jastrząb
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Marek Jastrząb
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Belamonte/Senograsta
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Bezka
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Yaro
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wiesiek
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Jaga
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absynt