Mihaela Pirjol Poems
Comments about Mihaela Pirjol
We cannot aspire to that which is already dead,
And there is no solace in delusion;
We should save the present for future memories
Thus, to remember we had a life we lived.
No soul which is born alone and dies alone ever pertain
To anyone, on this mortal realm of mortals;
Nothing we are, but an evanescent breath of air;
Utopian significance of being insignificant.
How a superbus phallus in carnal pleasure dies,
That ephemeral all these earthly passions are;
Like the face of moon from dusk till dawn
When sun replace its ardour with other kind of ...
Flying With The Flies
searching hectically and anxiously,
upon the squared pattern
of the table-cloth:
they seem infected
by some strange narcotics,
which energise them
with a ceaseless commotion: —
What are they looking for? —Do they know?