almost an utopía

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages


Today, everything is fully simulated, nothing is left alive
The world does not exist for a long,
All this cream is artificial:
Sweet hates, loves soluble baits as decorations – packing for a Ego
round, but not perfect
The norm of the normal is imposed, induced
even death is not natural
Death is a clone of: cosmetics, neon, awnings
I suspect that the birth is just a game of mirrors
We chew illusions spray, we drink smoke spray
clothes speckled with shadows
Every faith, every act of pure art, each axiom, any ideas, all are thrown in your bag
to make the clown for God of Money
The last poet, a couple of centuries ago, has left us
went to collect stars like flowers and then for close them in herbaria
that you do not know which will be…
The last mad do…

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