I listen to this sleepy blues
of the last day of eternity .
Rain leaves a scent of rust on life.
I seek harmony in the sublime
indifference and nobility
of disenchantment ...
Porgy and Bess are back
in bounty hunter paradise..
My thoughts drifting in the dark
ocean of tired inspiration ...
Frozen landscape of a Flemish primitive
populated by livings reincarnated
as thinking street furniture ...
Futile carnival in the gutter .
I can only find writing
orphaned of words ,
pathetic lunar node ...
Love offering me bitter parody,
losing lottery and mockery
thrown onto a virgin page
void of any mystery .
But it remains like an enigma ,
a dissociated voice ,
searching for the path
in a maze leading somewhere
beyond the last day of eternity.
Damned poetic alchemy ...
Who keeps lying to me .
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 31st, 2025 11:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS
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Comments4
thoroughly enjoyed, happy new year
Thank you for your appreciation !
most welcome
An atmospheric text, dark and slow, with a sense of exhausted meaning and desire to say a final word.
Final word for a lethal world !
The science of reason makes no gold of lead. Bess is out of drugs and Porgy has to beg for them but found the Flemish Privatives had gone home to the Netherlands five centuries ago. So he pulled up a resurrected chair once property of an orphan. Another surrealistic read that seems more a Hermanus Bosch painting. A trip through the cosmos my friend
Five centuries ago the eternity was still very primitive...
Little things like "scent of rust" and "nobility of disenchantment " and "Damned poetic alchemy" make this special. Nice work.
Thank you Dan ! Alchemy of disenchantment ...
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