Sunday, January 30, 2011


When the eyes vomited fire
And tongue scattered bullets
Instead of sweet words.

From mouth and nostrils
Instead of cold fog
Disgorged flames and smoke.

While the bloody hands
Seemed me anxious to throttle
The human’s throat.

With long teeth
Like a demon
Wandering like a vagabond
In search of human neck.

When the atmosphere perfumed
With the smell of blood.

And humanity danced nakedly
On the reddish land.

I wondered, I puzzled
I saw his vindictive figure
And touched his warm body
With trembling hands
And stopping beat.

My tongue muttered
“Who are you?”
He laughed wildly
And caught my neck
Then replied
“I am your future generation.”

1 comment:

  1. Oh, my God !

    Do you think that the future generation will be like you describe
    in your poem ?

    It's horrible !

    But your poem is wonderful !