Venezuela (Remove filter)
I don't know...
I don't know if the poet's dreams are inert,
if dishonesty surpasses the truth
I don’t know If before that twilight
the hours paused
and their shrieks burst out
I grope my way along the road,
finding a dungeon at every step;
the voice of hatred surrounds me like fire
taking root very close to me...
I don't know what I want to be and for what;
in what...
Tuesday 23rd February 2021 6:29 pm
Recent Comments
Bethany Sallis on Preferences in attendance
2 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on A Different Kind of View
29 minutes ago
David RL Moore on Scrap yard philosophy, too late
1 hour ago
John Coopey on A Different Kind of View
1 hour ago
Telboy on A Different Kind of View
1 hour ago
John Coopey on TRANSUBSTANTIATION
2 hours ago
rob1967able on song of pure desperation.
12 hours ago
William Alderson on And now for something completely different ... Write Out Loud poets turn out nonet after nonet to mark World Poetry Day!
12 hours ago
Auracle on Defined
12 hours ago
Steve White on TRANSUBSTANTIATION
16 hours ago