shimon weinroth Poems

Oh, chidren of the womb
hear me, for I have a tale
to tell of woe and sorrow
of the 'House of Oedipus'
...

the death of covenant,
speech and language
burnt at the stake
not only destroyed faith
...

rays of red, coruscating
and waves that shed,
glimmering diaphanous
silky mantle of tinted hues
...

Naggity and Cruchity,
some old souls
...

born, reproduced, replicated
from the best material that
ever made it to the 21st
echoing out of the past
...

chaos multiplied by chaos
non-linear square of disorder
doing so has found
some law of order
...

how do you know it is good
what do we mean by good
just because the sun comes up
doesn't mean it s good
...

They come but once a year
by solar count or
twelve by lunar orbit
365 by daily division
...

sunken eyes
silently scream
at the ticking face
hanging on the wall
...

Inorganic

How incredible to be
when so many things
...