Time...
On the face of an abstract rhyme
Flows in and out of rhythm
This poem is aesthetically displeasing
Locked in the hot press of writers block
I'm not...
Just teasing the normal formal poetic attire.
Futurist aren't really liked in the present. They live ahead of their time, dead to their time
Only in death will they shine
...or perhaps not
The marks on history, rather his stories is what's marketed a lot, is it truth?
Still I'd like to be in the books with an un-assassinated character
I don't want to be painted as anything but
as a man...
as a soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem