Ode to the liars
your flight is a song of wrong calved. World
farces,
spiral of silence where the echo is the vessel. Gathered
lovers lie
hold each other and proclaiming
crowning virtue.
While the honest man is carving his stone
turn those who lie in jail
breasts
weakest in the world and endless moisture
of their days plotting evil seduce
the beauty of luminous beings.
When you sleep the dawn trip
hit the flight of angels and fast feed
stem of a miracle,
case, aromas of roses,
your summer fragrance worldwide. No waiting
splinter love, but not before
suffocated. They demand loyalty
then bite the hand extended to them.
evicted in its wake the seeds of music
and stab to the trauma of oblivion.
The
lying cradled a seed of hatred in their souls,
not decline because they lack the noble affection.
The heart
has made them tiny and dust that sweeps
ages without grapes,
extracted from evil fevers
sap weak stems pubescent.
And so, between existential equinoxes
a pen dies on tight reproach. Rossana Arellano
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