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Nicola Pecjak

of

Bogota, Colombia

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Creation

by

Nicola Pecjak

Sometimes
I think it is sad
Your getting your hands
Dirty
From exploring
The garbage
In your backyard
Every day
Digging
Ever deeply
Into your sins
Devouring the fading remains
Of humanity
Drenched in the fetidity
Of rotting dreams
Drowning in the excrements
Of the Gods
You alone created.


A look into the city

by

Nicola Pecjak

Drizzle,
thin mist,
gave a gloomy look
into the city.
There was not much to see.
Trash-can philosophy
dazzling cars,
famous drunkards
in forgotten bars,
shaggy beggars
in rags,
hungry street dogs
chewing scattered refuse
from a round-the-corner
hot-dog sale,
classy French restaurants
filled with sitting brains
thawing slowly
in their oyster sauce delight.
Rain,
washing dirt into the gutter,
where the homeless survive,
where the foulest of smells
dwells;
smell of humanity.

Creation

by

Nicola Pecjak

Sometimes
I think it is sad
your getting your hands
dirty
from exploring
the garbage
in your backyard,
every day,
digging
ever deeply
into your sins,
devouring the fading remains
of humanity,
drenched into the foul smell
of rotted dreams,
drowning in the excrements
of the Gods
You alone created

Dark Corridors

by

Nicola Pecjak

The corridors dark
bring fears unknown
from endless abysses
of space unthought.
Sacrilegious chants
of forgotten rites
in monotonous cadence
arise,
rays of sound
reach
the infinity
of the Universe,
explosions
of phosphorent streams
conglomerate,
a crumbling world
vibrates,
thaws
into oblivion.

Sand

by

Nicola Pecjak

Sand
sand of time
an immense desert
cold
with silence
slipping away
eternally.
In tiny fractions
of infinity
we drown
slowly
in the mist
of shiny
crystal particles
sending
multicolored
beams
into the void
of time
sand of time
sand.

Meditation

by

Nicola Pecjak

The greyish rays
of your empty mind
contaminate the world
around you
and you gaze
opened mouth
drooling
at your reflection
in the dust covered mirror,
you feel
as though your stomach
was elsewhere
digesting
your own refuse
in silence.

In The Beginning (Genesis 2006)

by

Nicola Pecjak

In the beginning
there was only darkness
and silence_

and the Little People.

The Little People gathered
around the fire
and waited.

Time passed
crawling,
eons went by,
and the Little people
still sat
in silence
around the fire

waiting.

The silence grew deeper
as the fire ran out,
and darkness engulfed
the Little People.

And then,
there was nothing left
but silence and darkness.