Long have I lived in the outlet storeOf assembly-line music,There, it filled meWith ethereal echoesConcentrated syrupEmotional quicksandHorizons to follow,Facing overwhelmed eyes. I understand now that
Étiquette : poem
Mist as Mist
This is a re-post from a 3-year-old article…This article is a free adaptation from the French version: Où la Brume est Brume Clinging to thoughts
Noise At My Door
I’m not digging any deeper in the hole of society,Nor am I walking toward its crooked smile. My sensitivity is below its radars,The world does
The United States of Noise (re-post)
This is an old post dating back from 2018 Though it feels like I wrote it more than a decade ago I now find it
African Glows
On my skin,The glimmer of a candle flameBrings up Savannah.The colors of scrub landSoftly abandonedBy a setting sun. The light changesThe fine lines of timeInto
Poetic Slope
Poetry,The poetic mind,Can also be a sensibility which ends up penning the poet in spiritual drowsiness.From that point, the poetically inclined mind will dig to
