Iulia Gherghei writes

Time and time again

I woke up and the world was full of clowns

All wearing large smiles, lipstick red

All spitting lies from their red carnations 

We have a Russian clown popping up from the calendars 
This one knows karate, he shows us in the April picture

The blond haired one has a western origin

And wants to build walls against cactus trees

The fat one plays with bombs as if they are fire crackers

Clowns everywhere you choose to look

No matter what the political system is ruling

But I forgot our own clowns

This kind smiles in your face while his hands empty your pockets

Delivers political bullshit, phoney patriotic stuff
while he hides millions in exotic islands and ruins forests and changes climates

My questions is, why at the top of the pyramid

Do clowns pop up so easily

Time and time again

 Peace Owners II --  Sunil Sigdel

Iulia Gherghei writes

Another kind of spring

Death in your vision was so appetising
So voluptuous
Oh, yeah, yeah.... With her charms inciting us to sin, to commit savage debauchery
Oh, yes, yes, poet,
You deceive yourself and us too with nymphs wearing their scythe as a laurel crown
Their thighs billowing sweet angles and
the candied nipples anxiously waiting your slave kisses
Poet, what are you describing here it is not death
Only another kind of spring
Oh, yeah, yeah...

The poet answered with a smile

 

 Lady Death -- TK Miller

Iulia Gherghei writes

The archer is the aim

As far as I see 

there are so many ways to anchor yourself 

to the ground or to the sky or both

So many argumentations gathered in holy books offering us golden heavens or hells painted in flames of destruction

Practically, we are left loose to our imagination

As far as I see

the vectors

holy or not, pointing to the sky or to my neighbour's heart

poisoned with knowledge or blessed with love

the vectors, these invisible carriers of subtle particles of deity

always return to the sender

As far as I see

a sea of flying spears comes my way and

I wonder what have I sent you 

Lonely archer -- Thean-chan

Iulia Gherghei writes

A story with loud pigeons

One summer morning

when the heat was still bearable and

the pigeons were as loud as an orchestra

who lost its conductor

she decided that life made no sense to her

Her soul must fly to her daughter who fights

with death all alone

That much she could do

Her gesture, desperate as it was

someday it will be understood

Meticulously, she dressed herself with the Sunday gown

She combed her hair for a long, long time

Now she was ready

Her reflection in the mirror looked so calm

so serene, so promising... 

Definitely, she was ready

so she took the final step 

Behind her

The mirror broke and the pigeons got louder

White Woman and Pigeon -- Jamil Naqsh