Bera Tremoz

Rookie (01/11/82 - 01/11/2012 / Lebanon)

Goodmorning Love

Poem by Bera Tremoz

Death is cold outside
and the early birds,
what's left of them,
will rise in a few hours
and sing awakening
to millions of souls
burning within their

Death is alone outside
and the yellow stones
clogging the walls
of ruminating machines
will soon melt to the sun
and engage the wicked
engines towards another
day of mindless war;

Death is religion outside,
and what was once music
to minds devouring art
and love like hungry
lion kings
will bloom and rot
perish with the rest.

Death is peace outside
and i will sleep through it
both eyes shut
unable to care about anything
unconscious to all
faced to my true self,
a dream within a dream.

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Langston Hughes


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 23, 2005