Poezja

When I am caught in thoughts
when my eyes see an old vista
and other times come alive and back
I look in another light,
see the changes in the city
the cataclysm, the new regime’s warp and woof
in decay, decline, in hovels, in shacks
and I am not anymore unguarded
when fatal forces come together
to ravage the past for me
and do only awake more crime and evils,
when there utopia of abatement comes to life
and at times I hope not to return again
to this old rubbish dump.