Antoine La Najja
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Antoine La Najja Poems
Love Like an Owl (Three Deadly Confessio...
My love is like the owl Asleep in the morning When your face is true
A Billion Paper Hearts
A Billion Paper Hearts Bristling in the wind Many with similar folds All with different creases
As solemn as the heart Yet as menacing as the dove As soft as the fingers Yet as rough as a feather
Too Much Freedom
If we were to stay anonymous And our need for identity be forgotten Then life would have too much freedom And end in its own destruction
I seem to be standing In a world that moves Still waiting In this snow-lit groove
Parent and Child
A parent and their child Shares a connection of a physical kind Who are able to share And exchange kisses
War, A Man's Breakdown
To kill is such a terrifying task Though the malevolence of others would prove otherwise Their pure hearts now covered by Hatreds mask And their minds instilled with atrocious lies
The wind burns my eyes Do not ask me why For I embrace its beauty And boast of its freedom.
Cippled Old Man
I had been reduced, To a crippled old man Who limped on the sidewalk And lay down on the grass.
My friend had always asked, 'What house will you buy? ' I had replied, 'I will buy a country.'
Alone I slept In the midst of my dream With an empty space in my heart And an empty space in the seam
Pains of Love
When physical pain is applied long enough The nerves adapt And its resistance grows stronger Until the pain is no longer felt
I aspire to be nature: To be as beautiful as the peacock Who is able to express itself And ignore the hammer of judgment;
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Love Like an Owl (Three Deadly Confessions No1)
My love is like the owl
Asleep in the morning
When your face is true
Active at night
When the darkness conceals you
With stern, gaped eyes
That press through and through
That subdues my urges for a few.
Your loves purity,
Full of innocence and honesty that keeps you tame,
Drives the dove to insanity
And places me in the cold arms of shame
Because my love
Is full of faults
And puts our love
On seemingly endless halts
Unfortunately as I hoot
It is not my conscious calling
But are my lusts
That I deem ...