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Luka Farmer

Satanic/Angelic

A priest on TV today told me that God makes us in his image. Apparently, this is Gods’ will. If this is true, then God must not know about the Devil wrongly dwelling within me. It intrudes and shares in my immaculate innocence and the purity of my undisturbed soul.
I try so hard to understand this paradox when idle chatter diverts my attention from the truth of the matter. I believe that it is due to my heritage that I prefer silence over talking. I look into the mirror and find myself a little pale. I’m a walking paradox, but I’m not an accomplice. If you like me you are going to have to bear my nonsense. Perhaps I lack logic; this may be my weakness. When I leave this life, I’ll exit just as satanic as angelic.

Other works by Luka Farmer...
We...

Some of us did not choose to be born. We feel deep down in ourselves this sadness that draws us away from the light. Suffering bears down upon us like a weight on our back. We sometimes...
Night is an artist

The night’s hands are gloved. Its image is unfinished, but there is not enough time. The moon is fading. Nights frail fingers are so cold, but as they move, they sculpt the dawn and the...
Ligeia

Poor puppets pass me by like phantoms. They are so strange and pale. They sing a monotonous song that makes the night so cold. Each of them is tied to their heart. Do I wear a mask? If ...
My own struggle

I’m a simple person who prefers to remain silent. The only noise I want to hear is the long grass growing in the wind. I just want to be simply loved... but life has hurt me, and love h...
Stitches

Dreaming in bed, I turn and rest my head in on a dark pillow. Falling silently through the night, I see the light. I try to laugh but all my fears come pouring out at once. I hear my ec...
It hurts

I fall to the ground, resigning from a horizontal life. My thoughts are freezing and my ego has withdrawn. I feel nothing. I resent that which keeps me from you. I confide that I am at ...
At the end of the night

Sweet - it is so sweet. Your body is sliding over my skin. I can feel your hot mouth blowing all over my words. It feels it could last forever. It is the first time I have shivered with...
Time

There are times when the ghosts that haunt us fritter away and pain freezes. There are times when we feel invincible and then we bow to sickness. If I had known you would one day haunt ...
Deception

My exterior framework imprisons my suspended life. I once had a dream of better things. I face a crowd of people, all of whom are unknown to me. In all of them I see you. This framework...
The Powers within

What would life be if we did not experience love, or anything for that matter? This world would be pointless, and life would be meaningless. We would never experience the excitement fro...
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Have Mercy

I surrender myself to mutilation. I see Agnus Dei and surrender my sanity. I am a walking heresy, stupefied and contorted. Is it mutilation or genuflexion? For asking such things I am e...
The Dust Settles

Little dust particles floating in the streaming sun, are alive with energy, connected by static. I am tormented by a mausoleum I found wandering in a void of fear. I turn the empty page...
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The End Begins

The roses seem so beautiful until you feel their thorns. You are the improbable silhouette unforeseen in this silence, that watches over an absence in my heart. Even though the sun has ...
Eternity

I have this stubborn idea in my head: I want to spend my life in bed. My problem is this: We grow old too fast. Night is like an evil weed –you cut it out from one place and it sprouts ...
Spider

She’s black with eight legs - a Maltec spider up to some mischief. She’s a high-tech arachnid, hanging from her cobweb thread. She is a depressive artist that exists to exit. In her box...



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