WILL BORN INTO PROGRESSA Poem by Tasi83 It would be good to remain stuck outside of everything as long as possible; to sit outside of all endeavors on a cotton candy cloud or on a branch. Because everything is already hurting the brain, the ears, our inner instinct cells that have begun to dull, the crescents of ashamed nails on the fingertips are ruining their driven members. Because even now, at the height of incomprehensible chaos, the city with the smell of Nineveh is grumbling and arguing with itself - to feel that sooner or later something will finally split here too, while once only a light wave could have been the only possible answer. From ruined souls, crypt smiles and manipulative intentions are burning, as if everyone is waiting for the border points thoughtfully, if you like, humbly, silently, because no one can want the peculiarities of total chaos. They only dare to crawl slowly through the mole tunnels of fear, because they do not understand that the head of the headless snake can grow back if they are not careful. In their sleepy limbs, they should also learn the why of their attitudes if they want to thrive. Through invisible windows, one is forced to stare at the wild noise of the crowd of people, buzzing like a hive; their tiny crumbs of existence are carried up and down hills and valleys without a sob, because every movement they have experienced has now become a postponement, the living and the victims are declining to the limit, because something swims unwaveringly into the crosshairs of consciousness - even so - that may seem impossible to simply decipher. All career building or path-finding seems like a shameless deception; a petty flaunting of individual ambitions, because on the rowing courses of compulsion, someone has sold the oars one after another.
© 2026 Tasi83 |
Stats
13 Views
1 Review Added on May 15, 2026 Last Updated on May 15, 2026 |

Flag Writing