Moonlit blues
to recollections’ bureau –
the moon is blue, an opened mouth
for chatting suras.
The risibility is lost,
while running through the days,
where lords of rigmaroles are
secret holders of the craze,
gatekeepers of my hope
and sloppy sins collectors.
They are my silent victories,
my buggy vectors
who will transmit, transfix, translate,
and paperlessly spread
on peppy screens the confidence
to love and lack of dreads.
They’re in harmony with words.
To rhyme is easy
when you are painting with your pain,
when winds are wheezy,
when every tint of painted
would be felt by digits’ tips
while harvesting the moonlit blues
as in the bud to nip.
February 8, 2009
Copyright ©2009 Iouri Lazirko
Свидетельство о публикации №109020700347
moonlit blues
-------------
the moon is blue
an opened mouth of darkness
its risibility is lost
while running through the days
an eye-fax’s lately sent
to recollections’ office
where lords of rigmaroles
are holders of the past
gatekeepers to the future
and sloppy sins collectors
my silent victories
my buggy vectors
who will transmit
and paperlessly will spread
on peppy screens
the confidence to love
and harmony of words
in countless tinges
to sound wheezy
with a wind
to rhyme with easy
every tint
of painted by the tips of digits
the harvesting of moonlit blues
Юрий Лазирко 13.04.2009 21:16 Заявить о нарушении