Farwell to my works

A FARWELL WITH MY WORKS
by Galaburda Cyril

My room was invaded by mother
That sowed a floor with my notes.
I’ve feared that some time or other
My secret and humorous coats

Can’t be as a mask, as a helmet
For her execution and court.
And now she’s committing a fell meet
When siegging my sort as a fort.

Will damning my evidence poison
My “innocent” mother with all
Desires and hatred, and noisy
Morality falling, and call

That I’ve been corroded by long since?
Don’t walk on my papery soul
Amending my favourite nonsense!
As into the fragment or scroll

I’ve settled my senses and living,
And codes of my rational thoughts,
And projects for perfect and even
Processing and crunching of oughts.

The treasures were wrecked not entirely
By all brut barbarian force
As I was concealing them highly.
Let everyone know all the curse!

And now all my annals and letters
Drift on a men’s handed tempest.
There’s no any sorrow that greater
Than mine at my “children” that missed.

30/08/2010