Unnamed abstract poem
Which is more –
words told by the people who
have gone to the underworld
or the number of stars in the sky?
Before the World War III, till the earth would be destroyed completely,
will the planet, on which we can continue to live, appear?
Will people get used to the new space,
and will a new life be born with a local passport?
Will a new story be written?
Will the Earth geniuses be remembered?
The desert with the ocean shore
and the breasts of young mothers full of milk.
My exhibition –
In MoMa, at the Agora Gallery
and the Metropolitan Museum.
The wife delighted with the information aired by CNN
and one more day of a child
spent without daddy.
I go straight and to the right…
Miami Art Basel and Batumi dancing fountain.
Rustavi theatre and Dostoevsky – Notes from Underground.
Van Gogh, Nikala, Schiele and Basquiat.
I draw you
and Andy Warhol dances on the text by Dr. Alban,
which I sing
when you hug me.
An abstract poem is painted
Without brushes and colour.
And I don’t know whom I ask to,
what colour are the words –
“I love you!..”
What colour would be the thought
that emerges in the brain for a second,
If it would sound suddenly-
“Hello! Sorry, what will happen
here and now if we have sex?”
or what colour would be that girl,
who needs this closeness, but she restrains herself and plays,
not to surrender to the man easily
and to illustrate her power…
Copyright © Nika Dzamiashvili | Year Posted 2020
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