The barbarians are here. Walking in the park by the pond,
you'll notice a moth under the moon's haze,
as it tries to realize its limbs,
and then flounders under the water.
And the stone guards in the garden
stand guarding us from the night,
are shattered by the madness of the crowd.
And only the shadow demon that sits
on these stones, smiling,
will offer me cicuta to take
to my lips, to rid me of cicada’s poetry.
I deny it. And I take the sheets.
I leave the garden with a moonlit gait,
so that no one can ever find my footprints.
it’s a pity that a poet can't realize
that it's my fate to crown my own insanity
calling it art
oh, don't worry, you won't get hurt
you're in a safe room
you only hear the screams
When The Poet Turns To Ashes...
(from the cycle of telegrics "Transcendance", July 2023)
Blindness Archive
© Copyright: Константин Немель, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123100402085
Свидетельство о публикации №123100402085
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