Scorn (industrial poem)
Розміщено 05-05-10 у розділі НавколоСлова.
Хм… Колись мене крило не на жарт між іншим! Презентую індустріальний вірш або техновірш із назвою “Зневага”. Вийшло щось у стилі Fallout: занепад, спустошення, смерть, безвихідь.
Looks like I was badly fucked up while writing such fallout poem, or we can call it industrial poem, technology poem or even death poem.
Moving through wastelands lost in dead peace
Nomad finds ruins, annihilation and only tears.
Resources are wasted, soils saturated with poisons,
Everything is dying… Silence. Fading of noises.
Desert is spreading long dirty nails
Conquering squares, swallowing space,
Transforming relief in delusion on dunes:
It’s dusty realm – a kingdom of dooms.
Wind plays with sands in crazy swings,
Throwing motes in slowly torrent-hells
Flowing instead of glossy crystal springs,
Bearing bones, radiation and greasy stinks.
Oil-lakes formed out of earthly veins
Are burning in hazardous nasty flames,
Feeding death, feeling close surroundings
With rotting flesh, motley toxics and trash…
Acid rains fall out of red blood sky
Killing plants, making nature cry,
Weep for the mercy and salvation,
Starve for purity and recreation.
Decadence, pain and insanity in mind,
Futility of wisdom, progress… All that kind
Is just illusion, step in abyss, into dark
Where philosophers can hardly grab the spark
Of sensual word, of thought to make excuse,
To bring new theory, oh, fuck!.. It’s an abuse…
The intellect wants find the rational – way out –
To rush, to run away, to leave infernal dome…
There is no shelter, no cover to be alone,
To die in solitude, to wait the final lively breath:
Everywhere, it’s in the air, even down, beneath…
[4.12.07]
Теги: in English, поезія
