Born during the seventies
I
The deepest thing within
Destroying the possibility of breathing
Will cry even when we’re gone
Even after our own death
We will remain
The homeland poets in the foreign countries
Obscure forces of alien lives
Too tired sights of alien eyes
The deepest thing within
Will move on breathing
When all our days are gone
Hopefully not dying again
Insane
Wretched descendants of alien pasts
Paying their bills with our own skin
Moving back to illusions
Building the worlds
Out of the ruins
Nothing has ever belonged to us
Nothing will ever be
The broken dawns in our minds
Deliver
The fronts of the dead
To move everything into nothing
Within the last battle
II
Were you in the universe
Scented by any scent
Your skin on the altar
Would not darken the repentances
Endlessly
No
There were no songs there to feed you
No sweet words to hear
Out there beheaded by the sky
You put the honeycomb
Into the order of nothingness
Look
What an incredible classification
Lies there within the chains
Out of pain and deception
They weep like dogs
They roar like bulls
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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