"tighrope" poems
dawn, the epitome of I
for I rise as bright as fire
despite the abuse of life
despite the breaking point of a tighrope
in a circus
I am the moon
for I am a victim of meteors,
that punctured holes of words.
but the moon is I,
as it snatches my sleep
and reminds
me I am white,
for my soul is a vessel without substance,
a crippling facade at war.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 6:51 AM UTC
Summer greys have disappeared
taut silence, heavy tighrope walking.
Autumn's charms are here and winter
serenades. Down the abyss a little bird
is hopping mad, and a country held at ransom.
**** Blood's lust slowly takes over silences of past.
Don't abrogate freedom, don't. Country of disdainful
dreams, let us perish before you do. Angels will lament.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC