April tool
16 March 2017
Fashion me
Model of the talk
Make me walk
Through mirrors
Cutting through realities
With tongues’ swift scissors
Maintain cool
Walk on verge of death
April tool
Of the fool
We hear of stories that drool
Over heroes lost
The victims
Players of the whims
Unlocked grids
Earth that skids
Future you reach for now dims
Hands now usher rims
Reading of the poem:
I’ll be your woman – Michelle Gurevich
In Nomine Patris -Not!
20 October 2015
.
Synchronicities
Only worth their stories’ weight
No food for the blind
.
.
The surge shot through me
Helter skelter ran the thoughts
Where are you within?
.
.
You hear me never
Empty points of connection
Heart-split soul happens
.
.
Scissors in my hand
I cut through these veiled contacts
Tears in my glazed eyes
.
.
Fly away from pain
The nightingale told me soft
His spirit Withers
.
.
The rain falls on you
From waterfalls in my Heart
In mind no Echo
.
.
Prayers forgotten
In Nomine Patris – Not!
I will fly within
.
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