moved moving
controlled controlling
reality picture
safely tucked chanelled
or deliberately threatening
wordles wordless
dripping down the streams of questions
unaddressed
unanswered
by a frozen user
with no soil planted in a pot
reality show
info security belted
paranoia watered
where have you sung, freedom
against the blind sight
of eyeless cruelty
where one becomes what is watched
when one becomes what is heard
shapeless plasma
in the hands of little gods
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a perfect poem, a perfect comment on culture. PH asked me if I would like to receive a nice poem everyday, and I, instead, received this not very nice, but eye-opening one. Thank you for a great read this Thursday.