Washed Up Poem by Antonio Liao

penned cover with rushes
comes underneath from the cocoon
of fresh faces filter on a new
breed of flesh

we have come to trials on the most
existing avenue of change
among our generation, like vast desert
of sand dotted with dunes
of history

never comes in an empty vessel with
clear water, the dirt and the poison
hell on the thirst of death

gone the past days, where the wind
freely fly in
the sky touching the storm and dancing
with the thunderstorm as it
says goodbye to
the rainbow above the sky

painted with color dress and
like balloon
in catching moment of explosion; where
time has return in a different
pattern of existence, for today is no
different from the past, than to
die today

the fresh awake from
the dust of wind, breathe open the
lasting fumes of life to live