V
A lonely oak stands gracefully
against the ravaging north wind
smiling at the shivering cloud
sun ray reflects in the river’s retina
while the sleepwalking troglodyte
colours the guillotines in bloody red;
stigmata emanating from
the insatiable abyss he dwells.
Yet here stands tall, like the oak.
The Overseer. With the horizon in his eyes
and with the wider view always guarding
and directing his day’s length.
The stigma’s breadth sighs like
the most silent river murmurs as
people parade in front of him like
contemporary zombies
covered in elaborate garments or
irrelevant undergarments
yet although well-fashioned
and trendily attired
they stand naked from the inside out.
Manolis Aligizakis 