A keresés eredménye

Poem About Motherland

Surly like drunkards slow barracks hardly ridge
Or creeping road patrol service car with 2 pairs of eyes Glittering from inside like M&M's.
Toggled-looked new buildings hold the sky, the same black Lada 2109 is crossing wastelands.
Worker drags a coffin like a tarantula its cocoon.
Humans' offal is in photo frames of windows.
I come along Vostochny-city streets like I'm in Manhattan
Not hiding edematose face from the sunbeams.
Children sniff in carriages being lulled by carriages springs.
All my female classmates are drown close to me.
I come across midday streets like I do it in Montparnasse.
I'll let deceive me to each hooligan.
I'll drink and use drugs excessively in the gateway.
Then I'll fall down to your chest like a hydrogenous bomb.
 
My Motherland- is my love.
A sight from the window shows the mono-city wearing a dress Made of a grey cloth.
My Motherland- is my love.
Slum soldiers smile me back.My Motherland- is my love.
A sight from the window shows the mono-city wearing a dress Made of a grey cloth.
My Motherland- is my love where I read the poems not to the point.
I read the poems to an automatic
 
Our people(Russians) take part in wars or they're imprisoned.
I remember every Monday minute in October: how I was Assembling money for a pink police officer bribe.
Being afraid that he can take my fellow into prison for 10 Years.
Another brother said that he has nothing to lose and he went
To fight in a senseless war and to die there.
I only stayed here like a chatter-bird, like a child in fear Beyond the plastic windows.
We look like peers
In carriage wagon some random people consumpting a food.
Do you remember that you died and we were eating your Flesh that has a mummy flavor being forgotten in Mausoleum?
I'm sending a lost Chaldean language where it used to be Sent.
Trainman being in cold and in sweat has weaken significantly.
And I tell you genuinely that I love you loudly and with not a Shame.
At the carriage wagon of the train going to nowhere.
 
My Motherland- is my love.
A sight from the window shows the mono-city wearing a dress Made of a grey cloth.
My Motherland- is my love.
Slum soldiers smile me back.My Motherland- is my love.
A sight from the window shows the mono-city wearing a dress Made of a grey cloth.
My Motherland- is my love where I read the poems not to the point.
I read the poems to the automatic.