I'm Not A City Poem by Kinga Fabo

I'm Not A City

Rating: 3.9

I'm not a city: I have neither light, nor
window display. I look good.
I feel good. You didn't
invite me though. How
did I get here?

You'd do anything for me; right?
Let's do it! An attack.
A simple toy-
wife? I dress, dress, dress

The dressing remains.
I operate, because I'm operated.
All I can do is operate.
(I don't mean anything to anyone.)
What is missing then?

Yet both are men seperetaly.
Ongoing magic. Broad topsyturviness.
Slow, merciless.
A new one is coming: almost perfect.
I swallow it.

I swallow him too.
He is too precious to
waste himself such ways.
I'd choose him: if he knew,
that I'd choose him.

But he doesn't. My dearest is lunatic.
In vain he is full: He is useless
without the Moon, he can't change,
he won't change,
the way the steel bullets spin: drifting,

the blue is drifting.
He tolerates violence on himself, I was afraid
he'd pull himself together and
asks for violence.
I watched myself

born anew with indifference:
(if I melt him!)
stubborn, dense, yowls. They worked on him well.
Right now he is in transition.
He is a lake: looking for its shore.

(Translated by Gabor G. Gyukics)

I'm Not A City
Monday, October 24, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: stranger
Chinedu Dike 01 February 2017

Insightful and lovely, thanks for sharing.

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Siddartha Montik 24 December 2016

Nice expressions in some strange way. loved it cross crossing though! thank you for sharing! 10++++++

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Sylvaonyema Uba 12 December 2016

Nice poem. Thanks for sharing with us! Sylva Onyema Uba

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Kinga Fabó 24 December 2016

Thank you, Sylva-onyema Uba!

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Anil Kumar Panda 25 October 2016

Right now he is in transition. He is a lake: looking for its shore.......is so nice. Thanks for sharing.10++++

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Kinga Fabó 25 October 2016

My pleasure, dear Anil Kumar Panda.

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