your poem 'Dream' came to my mind as I woke up this morning:
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Langston Hughes
Thank you for keeping us alive with your dream
in these times
quivers a voice in the
waves of sleep sheaves of thoughts bleeding
at the doors of illusions drifting among
disasters betwen the pillars of mounting cries
the walls we erected to protect ourselves from
our fears you see me then you won't see me
your roots push you to the sky
your wings of light
your words your bread your music
of all times
YOU ARE READING
trips
Poesiatalking about trips don't trip don't move don't groove sitting in street poverty such cross nailing you down in the tomb of lost paradise eating at your brain your eyes your infinite holes piercing the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie never gave you...
