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Heaven or Hell Poem

Heaven Or Hell
by Mirel Brisca

Heaven or hell

Black clouds of silence
Fall on my head,
I jump in the sea
To wash my brain
With the vacuum of stillness.
I wave to the deaf fish,
But I am cursed with the quiet,
He swims away
Into nothing.
The absence of sound
Yells in my ear,
Your soul is divine,
Your guilt was taken,
Be happy to find


Showing pleasure and joy
I perform hara-kiri
With an imaginary dagger.
I let the crimson, invisible blood
Escape from my body,
And I wave my hands
To help it flow away.
I am proud of it
Like of smart son,
And I want to touch it
Once more before I leave.
I feel it cold and hard,
Begging me to stay,
Forcing me to knell.
I want to catch my breath
But instead of air
I inhale blood dust.
The night is a shrine and
I dream that I dream
Myself invoking the day.


Divinity of lust
Mother me
While I praise
The hour.
Give a glance
To a disgusting
Inward doing
Of genuine glare.


I am an island of reason
In a sea of grass,
Or so I've been told
By a great philosopher.
I scream my Latin
To frighten the dog,
And I see him
Waving the flag
As he runs,
Pulling my land
Like a carriage,
Leaving me seeking
The eternal youth.


I spin again and again
Like a top.
I swallow the earth
As I grow,
I overcome our galaxy
To become infinite.
I peek in the universe
For an angel,
I am boundlessly alone
And I pray.
A comet strikes me
In the head,
Then I explode noisily,
Like a balloon.
Now I can leave your house
For a while,
Because I have a cure
To my giantess.

The sin kills me
Slowly sucking my spine
Of its marrow.
I peel my skin of paper
And I try to burn it,
But it melts like wax,
Warming my fingers,
Scaring my bones.
I should cover my flesh,
But it’s too late.
I take a dive in the truth
To wash off the dead meat.
The skeleton comes out,
White and without shadow.
I wonder what I am
Do I comprehend?

Another sign

The angel is dead,
I do not hold him,
Thus, he becomes water
leaking through my fingers.
He wets my knee
and washes my legs
with his way of going.
Leaving me alone
forever running.
Incapable of losing,
unfit for the soul,
I am talking
without reason,
hardly letting myself in.
Born from a word
I carry my meaning
in a holy desert.
I ask if I am, but the screams
do not leave me,
so I will stay
adding loneliness
to the desert.

© Mirel Brisca

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