You ,prisoners of a pebble lost in the suburb of the universe,
you invent gods and alien cousins for yourself ,
to forget your destiny doomed to the trash of a black hole .
I am that dwarf to whom you denied the right
to belong to your insect community
but the shadow of the gnomes is getting longer
inordinately under the sun of the giants ...
I am this cold in the blazing seasons of your hopes,
once the fires of drunkenness and feast extinguished
your satisfied and sleepy bellies ,
lives thrown up on the doormat ,
dressed in your mourning clothes...
I know that I am waiting for sepulchral nuptials...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 29th, 2023 05:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: aDarkerMind, rhmn_7
Offline)
Comments4
excellent
Enough daintiness and rose gardens !
Here come the time of the Titans !
Cheerful little message!
I will survive halloween !
Fantastic work.
The times inspire a desire to change suburbs...
Strong words!
Don't be afraid to assume your inner Hades !
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