clichés
there's nothing new in my palm –nothing that stars
haven't seen or been so far.
just the same old smile that god
hanged in the corner of his mouth
whenever man entrusted his throes to smoke,
turning one day into sand,
the next day into salt,
depending on some divine whim
twisting and twirling
on the edge of frankincense burning
in an overrated milky grail.
blasphemous I am, I know...
but I can't help it.
(not that I wish I could...)
I'm posing blasé, dear reader,
because I know that
the temporal dimensions were
invented by human beings,
who, unable to comprehend the fact
that nothing is lost,
one day applied
the "was-is-will be" domino.
and from that moment forth
bones began to break painfully.
so, you see, there is no reason
to worry about
the evanescent nature of things,
since from the dust of today's oblivion
tomorrow's star is already born...
Poetry by Lilly Negoi
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Written on 2012-11-26 at 10:53
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Nathalia |
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by Lilly Negoi Latest textswinteringfeathery song coils shapes of sand moral-less fable |
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