I wish I were a poet .
I am just a poor disabled
polymath who only
speaks dead languages ...
I don't understand
the universal law of attraction
that causes two bodies
to touch each other...
Newton never bite
into the forbidden fruit ...
All of Einstein's twisted ramblings
have only given rises to chaos
on a Dali canvas...
In this ambiguous mirror of life
there's only reflection
of a wingless angel ...
My finery is tired with
a nasty taste of humanity ...
I sent a prayer to Allah ,
who answered '' Submit yourself ! ''
I defied Jehovah who accused me
of being a C.I.A agent !
I called the Buddha who was absent
due to impermanence ...
What my bubble room is missing
is the softness of a watercolor
painted by the young Hitler
in his Bohemian madness ...
Pervers vertigo for industrial puppets...
'' You will be an existentialist my son ! ''
Said Tinker bell over my cradle ...
Can you be a poet
if you forget to be a landscape ?
Nowhere land tragic history .
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 12th, 2025 11:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments2
It reminds me of Kierkegaard, but written in the voice of Bukowski who has gone through university.
I gladly leave Buk to the undisputed rooster master of this poetic hen house !
Salvador Dali in words, bent surrealism on a stick is what I say
These clocks that melt like french cheeses this is the landscape
of poetry !
One of my favorites time melts
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