Mên-an-Tol
ölene dek sende
yaşanan
yaş
gözlerde
yaş
gözler
sönene dek sende
yanımda
yaşlan
ama
yavaş.
Fruit
Provided from Orli's Blog.
cut the tree,
pick the fruits.
all the ones,
whether they dropped
or jumped...
leave the bruised ones
on the ground,
so more trees may grow
from the beasts
that can never be found.
in a way,
generations rise
on the omitted wounds.
Mine
Michael Donovan for Vision China, September 2011
What blushed you is your blood
Coming through your veins
Rooted in your heart
Which is in my hand so I pumped
INRI
Iēsus Nazarēnus, Rēx Iūdaeōrum
the tree has the seeds in a rotten fruit
lazarus has risen but death was his need
jesus was bleeding when the scream has reached
obedience leads you through the painful faith
Illusion
i catch the sparks.
it's my illusion,
as if i can see
the lucid
and the ferocious
consciousness
of the ones
in their bright eyes.
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