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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • FROM WHOM EVERY DAY


      
      

    An alarmed desire to escape on a loop of violated Soul, maybe only for a few minutes. An alarmed pecking at the backyard of self-confidence that has been humiliated to dust. It is becoming more and more difficult to rediscover true happiness in a loop that snaps.

    Every forgotten movement and unnecessary word torments me because it selfishly falls back on itself. Silently screeching, seemingly sincere actions can break into pieces if a fragment of it touches and injures an impulse or emotion.

    Szirt-In time, terrifying fears crackle like dry branches. The echo, which was once ours, descends with a howl in existence. Wild knives, profanity and aggression threaten everywhere. The past hoots hauntingly like the sounds of owls, and warns incessantly.

    Our intentionally misdirected, distracted thoughts wander uselessly and then fall down with the nuggets, where sooner or later everyone turns.

    Corrupted sadness pours out your unworthy morning like a torrent again and again. Your hive-mind to discover new things is deteriorating. Knowledge honeys - you know - can fall into Alzheimer's prisons sooner.

    The screams and laughter of shock, half-madness, and brainwashed self-absorption drive up the daily changing candidates for the stardom of nobody's house - rather, humanity and tolerance crackle in millions, and it's as if the permanent ideas and thoughts have been worn away from the books meant to be permanent.

    The mirrors no longer show the Janus face of those who once believed that good and noble intentions can change or fix anything. "She-quick Death threatens incessantly until she climbs up her donkey ladder to commit suicide." The scheming, scheming Time always urges us to do our deeds, when even Existence is urgently falling out from under us!

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