Idle Cirrus Poem by Lihle Shezi

Idle cirrus,
what mirrors
dusty foyers of earth?
Though these grey waters
drink dreams of
sleeping fisher-men.
And vomit fragile curse
upon the nostrils
where humans breath life.
For a retarded reflection
pictures no soul.
And ochre nightmares
possess soo much
of our mighty
potential; that
is to forgive death
before it happens.
And to name a child
before birth happens.
What is there to
buy with a second hand
life span.
For it keeper grew tiring
of nostalgic seasons
where sinning
was the nosegay
decorating insignia
graves.
And the sound of
wailing children was the
only song to remember
the dead idle cirrus,
for no Pula came!
Pula, Pula is a shame!
Where people burn books
thirst for wisdom percolates
any cascaded verbs
and accept them as true.
Yet, idle cirrus
mirrors no such truths.
Though these grey
waters drink dreams of
sleeping fisher-men.