Photo by Saffu
Poetry by Vladimir Fischer
“He’s banished from the cloud in heaven. “
Sleeping with the living angel,
it’s mostly quiet in the room
only nostrils tooting with
the serenity of the silent night.
The soft sound of breathing,
hides the pacing images
in front of eyes blindfolded
by the haze of horror dream
reminded of the mortal life,
you see.
He’s banished from the cloud in heaven,
detached from the gravity of Earth,
stuck with the dreamy poet in the room
and dictator for a house cat.
In the mirror
he sees a horned demon
spawned from the womb of
goated devil
Space-cold terror
fills his lungs and vessels
it’s suffocating right within,
can’t breathe, can’t think at all.
I also felt those spikes
raised between the hairs of beating chest,
I tasted blood from the thorns
located on the tongue.
Protection mechanism at work,
fueled by the aggression of the world,
the universe feels gloomy, wasteful, and hungry.
It’s the realm of the goated devil
where he has fallen from the sky,
everything is the opposite of home
in this tragic version of the abyss.
Maybe I can help,
I’m only child of this soil
but maybe heart could add a little light,
small glimpse, a tiny moment pictured,
from the cloud that’s lost in heaven.
Poetry by Vladimir Fischer
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