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Different Kinds The Perfect

There're different kinds of people,
Some kinds - I can not talk to,
As if I'm four and standing at a blackboard
of the private school,
which was great and famous
and drilled souls into grounds,
as if children were killer soldiers
- Made us wave a flag,
made us hum a tune,
Sing lalala with a smile on our faces:
maybe that's why my smile can be crooked
and not always sincere -
my grandmother said I have a smile of a wolf
- she was the one who put me there.

You know their kind - the people
with a perfect mind, breathing air like crystals,
having a brilliant wife -
flowing through life, like a cruise over the Atlantic -
and not the sinking type,
no, the type with cooled Arabian tea, and flutes!
Oh the music overshadows the waves, doesn't it?;
Somehow they do everything once
- marry one house, name a star after them,
die in their birthtown and listen to bees zooming
- without thinking of bullets;
I think of bullets and crawl in my cave,
which is dark and moistured, full of fat bugs
and harsh imperfections,
with worms making holes and babies -
Those babies, that always rot in the uterus.

Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 703 times
Written on 2009-01-29 at 23:22