Niko Tiliopoulos


Witch City - Poem by Niko Tiliopoulos

Good morning!
Yet another “why? ”
I dive in the bath
and the mug is warm.

As I put on my clothes
the radio awakes,
music...
you…

If I search inside me,
a flame of void,
a mute heart,
a dead fag.

I am a dumb peasant,
a drunken scout
of a life,
insane.

Like an acrobat I always balance
on fairytales about a plastic city.
How much I love you!
When will I be released?

Recorder sounds
in neon rain,
my eyes aurora
will cry for her.

Sleepy sunsets
and bleeding waters,
a cry…
silence…

Witch city,
your broom is grey,
your domes are rusted,
the disease is known.

With the passion of a sunbeam
a blinded bat,
I glide…
I hurt…

Like an acrobat, apparently, I balance,
a rebel in a city I hate.
How much I love you!
When will I be released?

Good night!
What else to say?
Your shadow is bitter,
I will not dream.

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Comments about Witch City by Niko Tiliopoulos

  • Dimitrios Galanis (1/31/2016 3:19:00 AM)

    Poetic tones in a bitter sensitiveness. (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, October 14, 2006

Poem Edited: Monday, December 5, 2011


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