Arhive etichete: literatura

Mr. Saint Peter

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I’m knocking and knocking at your door.
You’re just too drunk
And you’re passed out on the floor.
I left my sins outside,
I hope you keep the score,
And I have nothing left to hide.
You know my guilts and all of my goods,
You have the key and you prepared my room.
Please, Mr. Saint Peter, don’t send me back into the woods.

Time

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As the words rush out,
As time forgets to put on its pout,
As the roots dig deeper in the ground,
I am left here without sound.

As you know me inside out,
As the world turns without doubt,
As the future holds the dice,
I am left to eat my slice.

One week old and one week only,
How did I get so lonely?
Time is one,
No time to hide!
I am left on the inside.
Time is low,
And time is slow.
I am left with moldy dough.
One time old and one time only,
How did you get so lonely?

Sand

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sand-time-clockFragments and figments
In a world without pigments
Reality’s gone with the sin and away
I have no place where I can stay.

Bloody sheets and sweat
In a world without sounds and breath
No balance in sight and zero places to hide
This monstrous child bride.

Forgotten wars and words,
In a world with unsharpened swords
These times are waving goodbye to this land
All that is left is some sand.

Pic.