Progress
I
Dead groves of buried flowers,
for the modern to be and to appear ...
and innocence be voice off tuned,
only the voice of noise be flourish.
II
Hallucinate engines loose on the street,
causes the moon, flee, hide, and disappear,
carrying on her breast the night naked sheet ...
The sun aware of this, uncertain that appears.
III
All bucolic geometry has already collapsed
in this infamous madness, villain of success,
even joyful and lively joy are vanished
IV
fearing for such bestial evil intentions,
because only of ghostly aberrations,
so they wear the visors of progress ...!
Copyright © Alkas Poetry | Year Posted 2019
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