A woman of Gamma-Oh-Dee –
And city-signs within an argon gas –
Looks in gleams of puddles and deem
The rain in metal – the midnight jazz.
And such as Nephilims of Fallen
Hover-railcar rise to dome’s skies;
Looking a top, she watches for them,
“Setting forehead up to air-exclusion zone”,
With her luminescent-blue eyes.
By a scarf within a saffron smell
A black – crocus – Heaven’s high
Wrap her hair in black-n-shell.
The noir-city of hat-and-tie.
Solitionis Croci oleosae
Is sprinkled on her dreadlocks,
Braiding in black-n-bluish rose.
Subway’s vapor – city’s smokes -
Naiads of the urbis digitalis,
By hands of solar flare free
They embrace her waist as chalice.
The woman of Gamma-Oh-Dee.
In sounds of jazz gammas
Aside of her, men stands on knees
And their hands, lifting up,
Creating an enfilade of arcways,
She comes through them tough.
As an existential bit of a zoo,
They’re restricted zone’s bosons,
Sons of bosses, Nephilims’ dew.
Rain drops, dozen after dozen.
By the way of extrusion words
Mediators free out to clefts
Of synaptic ganglions – goal:
For the sake of receptor thefts
In the course of mechanical loom
To effuse the protein inside of a car.
A womb closed as a tomb of doom.
Ai to wa nanides’ ka? (愛とは何ですか? - What is the love?)
‘Tis not the cracks of icepeaks.
The woman of Gamma-Oh-Dee
By her hands makes a crucifix,
Forcing bosons back, she’s free,
She goes forward, to the home’s dome,
As sleepless cloistress with the keys.
She’s lost the boson’s bits, she mourns
For mirage is in the cyber-cities. |
