Poezja

Using me, 
I take a refuge in desire. 
‘Seeing act’ strangulates. 
I suffer in the mists of defeat, 
there is no evidence. 
One attachment catches the conflict. 
The fading light of moon burns my pillow, 
transcripts impenetrable theme. 
 
Conceiving a problem 
in the shifting sands, life seeks 
a view of words and enjoys the discreet 
meaningless movement. 
We play the game again & again, 
feed our egos. Study the sorrow 
and give charity to the torn flags 
of pride and hunger. 
 
The fear does not end, 
the looking does not stop. 
Each answer leaps to a grief. 
The chronicle of squeezed holocaust. 
we were hurting each other 
humming a song. 
Violence of non-violence was more evident.