A Silent Fighter

i.

Shadows make my hand to start’s an upsurge,

slowly, stop until it turns to a wildly panorama.

Restrained, flamboyant insignia are dancing.

Rapid, explode the reddish blood flowed.

ii.

Emaciated stain sketch in the papyrus,

strive to illustrate the mouth of the famine.

Scrawny, bloated stomach, pathetic…

Premonition of an old times epidemic.

iii.

Neurosis inside the mortal psyche,

moan, hilarity, muffled in anticipation.

Perhaps in tune of wilderness,

existing, gasp in new world that created.

iv.

Vain, blemish spirit, happiness, memoir…

In the tomb of an unnoticed conqueror,

pieces that once molded by dispense nor

manu scripted in an exceptional wave.

P

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This entry was posted on Friday, November 30th, 2007 at 1:04 am by M.R.Farala and is filed under Random Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.