THE WHITE CITY
I’m in the white city.
A dense fog
Disintegrates all my hopes.
There are people dreaming
Of nonexistent worlds,
There are disoriented people
Walking on the terminal’s sidewalk.
There are lights turning on and off so erratically
In this white city.
There are hidden screams in the night
Covered by the heavy rain sounds,
That rain falling continuously
And monotonously.
In this white city,
The victims
Don’t understand that they are victims, yet.
There are flowers,
There are fast food kiosks,
There are botanical gardens
With beautiful exotic trees,
And there are horror movies in the theaters.
As shadows emerging from the fog
Are the last steps.
There are steps searching each other,
And there are steps being separated forever.
The rain’s sounds
Vibrate the eye of the windows,
Vibrate the burial stones,
Vibrate the dreams,
Those dreams
About better days.
Apparently,
Someone screams
In the white mist of the night.
Maybe he is the victim of an aggression,
Or maybe, he is someone who has lost his love.
Maybe it is just an echo . . .
I am in the white city,
And I am searching for you in the darkness . . .
A dense fog
Disintegrates all my hopes.
There are people dreaming
Of nonexistent worlds,
There are disoriented people
Walking on the terminal’s sidewalk.
There are lights turning on and off so erratically
In this white city.
There are hidden screams in the night
Covered by the heavy rain sounds,
That rain falling continuously
And monotonously.
In this white city,
The victims
Don’t understand that they are victims, yet.
There are flowers,
There are fast food kiosks,
There are botanical gardens
With beautiful exotic trees,
And there are horror movies in the theaters.
As shadows emerging from the fog
Are the last steps.
There are steps searching each other,
And there are steps being separated forever.
The rain’s sounds
Vibrate the eye of the windows,
Vibrate the burial stones,
Vibrate the dreams,
Those dreams
About better days.
Apparently,
Someone screams
In the white mist of the night.
Maybe he is the victim of an aggression,
Or maybe, he is someone who has lost his love.
Maybe it is just an echo . . .
I am in the white city,
And I am searching for you in the darkness . . .
Refugees (Triple Boketto Poem)
Victims have no place to stay;
Refugees are turned away,
When the night becomes the day.
Nobody asks why.
Life is going by.
Refugees are turned away,
When the night becomes the day.
Nobody asks why.
Life is going by.
Kids need food to stay alive.
Make an effort to survive,
Lost in blue.
How hard is it to live there?
All their diseases are rare.
In this world wave of prayer,
Where the snakes lie,
Life is going by.
Sands fall through the hourglass.
The hope withers like the grass
Lost in blue.
Behind the concealed mind walls,
Near the sky and the wet falls,
The life dances, the death calls
To upturn the eye.
Life is going by.
The chaos can’t rise above,
When the people search for love,
Lost in blue.
YOUR SPIRIT FIGHTS
Your spirit fights
Against
The changes
During ageing
Your flesh
As a bird flies
Against the wind
Until it gets
A hurt wing.
Against
The changes
During ageing
Your flesh
As a bird flies
Against the wind
Until it gets
A hurt wing.
Algorithm of a Tree (Sextuple
Crystalline Poetry)
Crystalline Poetry)
A free tree is never rooted—
Infinite complete binary tree.
Infinite complete binary tree.
A finger tree has internal nodes and
Each one in this tree has child nodes.
And their connection is a walk—
Parents and children walking the tree.
Nodes without children are called leaves,
While roots are leaves of the finger trees.
Very intelligent are the word trees—
Trees—no one-to-one correspondence,
Adaptive merging operation,
Implementing finger search trees.
[MARIETA MAGLAS]
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