People of demise, with an undeserved fate, like a defeated dream
People of demise, with an undeserved fate, like a defeated dream,
With dead dinosaurs, my eternity embroidered by extended time.
May new beings be born from the manure of life, all at once,
Identifiable in the ecology of the world, sometimes alive-alive.
The emotion of the sun, an immense mirror in which we lose ourselves,
I, the animalistic poet, reflecting God in verses that burn.
Blinding us in all things, our gazes are strange shards,
My words deceitful, vinous, full of bubble-poems, oceans.
Feeding hungry thoughts, wrapped in vain hopes,
For I have died formally, before my time, in empty days.
To the venal criminals, secretly scolding life's partners,
Covering the sunken graves under the impenetrable rain.
Under the rain's immensity, measurable, we catch ourselves in a dance,
The supposed heroes, pure sources of lightning, with pale color,
Bringing from the horizon the languid light, the extinguished dusk,
The humanity in me and in him, balancing the dawns in dreams.
Beloved, the night tilts the balance of dawns that intoxicate us,
In the paradox of life, where light and darkness get drunk.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
