Dying Night
Rojio Usham *
Every so often,
reality is too multifarious
for you and me to articulate.
But legend embodies it
in a form that stretch
beyond you and me,
beyond this metaphysical world.
Prudence, silence, sense, defence,
all getting out of shape,
all things weird normal
in this whore land,
the Capital of Misery.
Smack by the wretchedness and fleshiness,
many things of this eerie galaxy
are not in the orbit.
It’s always like that,
perplexed and leaves us speechless
and one night, you and me,
let’s wait to death,
with our dying voices
in the midst of the dying night,
in this weird vampires’ town.
No one's lived in the past,
nor will live in the future,
But hard to pass the present.
One finds the red stars,
hanging everywhere
to our splendid cheirao ching;
you can't compare it
to my love for this whore town,
a vast labyrinth, small and magnificent.
People have become slaves of probabilities
in this weird vampires' town.
All and sundry,
every person's journey
is to the dying night.
Usham Rojio
24/01/2010
* Poem from Rojio Usham.
He can be contacted at urojio(at)gmail(dot)com . This poem was webcasted on April 05, 2010.
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