28 august 2020
Forever In Coma
Zinnias were stalking.
The fading moon hangs upside down
from the massive Ficus tree.
Ultimately the grace withdraws.
Now you sit under the bo-tree
becoming a wet Buddha.
Unthinking, unblinking
falling out of thoughts,
and start supervising the barren landscape.
The dawn sets free, the white
pegions to become prey of ravens.
Would you talk about peace?
The evil touches every next door.
I will write a long letter
to me, to unwrite the sermons.
17 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
absynt
16 september 2025
absynt
15 september 2025
wiesiek
14 september 2025
wiesiek
13 september 2025
wiesiek
12 september 2025
wiesiek
9 september 2025
absynt
9 september 2025
ajw