Next stop

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual text: English, Italian and Romanian

everything is fully simulated, nothing is left alive
The world does not exist from longtime,
All this cream is artificial:  sweet hates, soluble loves,
baits as decorations – packing of Ego round, but not perfect …
the norm of the normal imposed, induced
even death is not natural
Death is a clone of: cosmetics, neon, awnings
I suspect that even the birth is just a game of mirrors
we chewed illusions spray, we drinked smoke spray
clothed with mottled shadows
every faith, every act of pure art,
each axiom, any ideas, all are thrown in your bag
to be clown from the God of Money
the last poet, a couple of centuries ago, has left us
went to collect stars like flowers and then close them in the herbaria
that you do not know
the last mad ago selfless ascetic with Saturn’s ring on…

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