It is up to many Venuses who
Lie back like viruses along the veins.
Many women of mine are virtues.
Unfortunate lovers,
Who stumble over the whisky bottle.
Ideal emotions roar untamed,
And ideas straddle unwritten
Since the first day of our encirclement.
Arm-in-arm light-headed barn
Bubbles and bubbles to its naked
red-mouthed red-petalled mothers
Virtuous song of harmed rebellion at the very birth.
How do we spell its name now,
When the actions have taken upon themselves
The mask of social destination?
This road gently leads through a hidden
Among legs and fags and torn to rags
Obstacle. Unsafe and dangerous.
This is how we me ma-are
Feeling of either living or surviving.
up to many Venuses
© Copyright: Сильви Вархола, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106042302450
Свидетельство о публикации №106042302450
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