agonia
english

v3
 

Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission Contact | Participate
poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii
poezii
armana Poezii, Poezie deutsch Poezii, Poezie english Poezii, Poezie espanol Poezii, Poezie francais Poezii, Poezie italiano Poezii, Poezie japanese Poezii, Poezie portugues Poezii, Poezie romana Poezii, Poezie russkaia Poezii, Poezie

Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special

Poezii Românesti - Romanian Poetry

poezii


 


Texts by the same author


Translations of this text
0

 Members comments


print e-mail
Views: 3301 .



Flying in that silver world
poetry [ ]
the seventh poem for Shiraz

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [Alma ]

2018-10-10  |     | 



men are weird
one used to talked about s.x and other stuff like that
other about fake wisdom and other stuff like that
another one about sky constellations and speed of light
and all this seemed to me like a fake orgas.m
like a pseudo love
like our times divided into rouleaux and thrown over head
as they did when my grandfather died and everyone used to throw small coins
hell knows what they looked like silver in the summer sunlight
sometimes I'd start to laugh, how to talk with a woman about s.x and other stuff like that
men are useful, we were to laugh
I used to laugh when my grandfather died, in fact afterwards
there was a hot summer day and people lit candles
the summer sun would have been enough
people lighted up new candles, we laughed
we were sitting in that blue room and laughing
rollled on the floor in that bluish room
we were too young to laugh alone
now too lonely to laugh again

men are weird, so I've started to believe in aliens
I've had a small orange ball taken from a pet shop
it was an orange world a small 'g' a kind of k-pax in my pockets
I have imagined how the angel was coming in taking that orange ball
spinning it and other angel-like stuffs
then how that three-year-old boy in Africa no longer carried water
and that little baby girl in karachi was no longer stoned
and how they all were living into my world painted in orange
my little prince
my little princess
and somewhere an useless eden in background
and the Snake swallowed by the Elephant

people are weird
every night at 3 and five minutes a bird spreads out the wings next to my windows
above it is the sky with the same cluster of stars
what's the point of knowing their names
somewhere is my grandfather I've just talked about
somewhere closer, our first dog, then my dad then all of us
and all baby girls stoned somewhere in another part of the world
and all women stoned somewhere in another part of the world
maybe you think about same issues and other stuff like that
while you were taking one moment of your hours and sending it to me
while the birds were guarding the worlds just near the windows of our rooms
while the night birds were flying

.  |










 
poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii
poezii
poezii Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. poezii
poezii
poezii  Search  Agonia.Net  

Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net

E-mail | Privacy and publication policy

Top Site-uri Cultura - Join the Cultural Topsites!