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Jul 2020 · 132
work
Kov Bog Jul 2020
You're a poet
I am the paper.
You start to write
I couldn't feel safer.
Unsullied work of yours
Will be thrown away later.
2018.01.17.
Apr 2018 · 423
Cocaine Silence.
Kov Bog Apr 2018
White sheets covered the ruins of the day,
Nothing really helps when you can't run away.
Bombardment dashed through the trembling city;
Left under debris, buried in your favourite graffiti.

Tell me is it really silence that I hear?
I can't be deaf, your words reach me here
You could shout at me or whisper in my ear,
Believe me it is not the voices that I fear.

Not the voices but silence.
For SILENCE IS A CUTTHROAT,
A lethal murderer of words.
Devouring a budding thought.
It is just eldritch vacuity.

White sheets covered the ruins of the day,
Nothing really helps when you can't run away.
Bombardment dashed through the trembling city;
Left under debris, buried in your favourite graffiti.

Tranquility.
A word     fell into oblivion.
Tortured.
Taking away a piece from it
Every time a man kills a kid,
Every time a mother abandons her family,
Every time we declare war on another society,
Every time we make a mistake and try to forget it,
Every time  WE  WORK  AGAINST  THE  FUTURE  AND  NOT  FOR  IT!

******* Silence.
White sheets covered the ruins of the day,
Nothing really helps when you can't run away.
Bombardment dashed through the trembling city;
Left under debris, buried in your favourite graffiti.
******* Silence. // Non-existent serenity of a bygone society
Jul 2017 · 216
Music
Kov Bog Jul 2017
Music is:

every single emotion
   dissonance of hearts
radioactive explosion
   nocturnal paradise
Jul 2017 · 206
Stripes
Kov Bog Jul 2017
Let me breathe in the zebra
And exhale the feet
Keep the white stripes,
While darkness runs the street.
May 2016 · 1.1k
Wasting Gravity
Kov Bog May 2016
Wasting Gravity.
What were you telling me,
Chills run down my bones,
Aching for rip out my thoughts.

Frosty Sunshine.
A garbage can of my mind,
Space between infinities,
Buy darkness to see me, please.

Painting Sanity.
Humid canvas of reality,
Always scanning emotion,
A money flavored deadly potion.
My very first poem

— The End —