I’m not a silent poet…I’m not a silent poet
I’m not a silent poet…I’m not a silent poet
I am an immigrant , yes, I’m an immigrant
my skin is dark, yes, my skin is black -dark
it smells of smoke because I have no home,
no roof, no bedroom…I am an immigrant
my religion is not Christian
I believe in stars, in sky, in sun, in stars, stars, stars
but I have curiosity for all religions
I wanted to talk with Jesus, I wanted to meet him
I wanted to know about his life
I wanted to sing songs with him about my stars, and his stars
but my skin is dark- black -dark and it smells of smoke
You, Trump, you beat Jesus these days because of me
because my skin is dark like black holes , like falling comets
you, Trump, you spit Jesus’ cheek because my skin is not white
it smells of smoke like celestial bodies in flames
I am an immigrant, I wanted to dance with Jesus
I wanted to tell him my story about millions of bear souls
and himself to tell me about his soul, about millions of Christian souls
oh…my soles touched the immortality feeling eternal life
in water, stones, fire and air….
my child , oh, oh, my dear child smiled at the grass thread
oh, the dear child , the dear child romped around a wild garden
my child , oh my child smells of milk blushed of the smoke of tent
but now he is crying, crying, crying in a cage
you, Trump, you ripped of the child Jesus and put in a cage
you, Trump, you said zero tolerance for your dear Jesus
you, Trump, you made Jesus’ mother cry
she is mother of the whole universe
she is crying, now, she is lamenting, and moaning
and crying, and lamenting and moaning
because her pure child , her child unpolluted by the world,
is crying in cage
my dear baby, my dear, dearest baby is so , so alone
under the Trump’s roof, with shouts, with frowning
and hostility against baby smile
Oh, world, world, world….you shut up
but you have remember these day of tears,
yes, because, you world, will be your turn,
you will cry and lament, and moan and cry, cry, cry…..
my skin is dark, yes, my skin is black -dark
I am an immigrant , yes, I’m an immigrant
I’m not a silent poet…I’m not a silent poet
I’m not a silent poet…I’m not a silent poet –
..
Lucia Daramus is a Jewish Romanian writer who is living in England, in Stroud, and an artist whose works demonstrate her fascination with archaeology, history of antiquity, quantum physics, numbers, and philosophy. Daramus has obsession for philosophy, ideas, and religion, she has Asperger’s Syndrome. Her poetry reflects the deep meaning of the life. Her poetry is sometime sad, sometime ironic, or playful. She was published in some magazines in Romania, France, Germany, England, Canada, USA, etc. She has published poetry, essay, short story, play.
She has won same Prizes for Poetry, Romanian Prizes and International Prizes such as the Canadian Prize for Poetry (Gasparik.)
I am not a silent poet 