Here they lie Piled up and forgiven, Buried in oblivion, Flesh off the bones.
Wet mother Earth Smiles at the people... Still-bearing
In the slit wings land, Dead-bearing By the fathomless graves.
Reduce them to dust, Take as much as you can. This crawler-breeding, Their skins in urban scabs, Gets..... Gets.... stung everywhere...
Love us - They'll pity their souls, Kill us - Clothe in sores.
It's time for the birds running To fall into dead silence, Strangle freedom in your nets, In the snakes' nest, Wondering how to reach the sky, How to rise from ground, How to live away from death, In futile endlessness.
Not to entangle In an alien stark dream, A linear cobweb Attached to a doctrine.
In a life's thin squeak, At the stake of perception, A rope on my neck, Singed feather around, I dream about a day on earth, But now I'm a bird on my own.
Entropy ----------------------------- Avidly watched By the city Of regular thoughts with accusation, pity And blot, Of vague dark visions Of a hazy mind, Of blackouts and fright,
I picture the world As a disguise, A world which is merely The reason of crisis, The page wrinkled up By a bird.
The music out of town, Rolls of thunder to some, To me a lyre's sound, Gently whispering Luring me away From the open volume Of rules and commands, Makes the eyes bolt The first word And fall silent Choking on thoughts Non-stop.
Beyond the mist, Beyond the dark wall Shimmers the stronghold Of monastic ideas, For themselves nonexistent, Where youth is wine, Where eld is vinegar. The city displays its bite, Loving itself, the pitiful.
The vision and the visions Have long turned sour. The city keeps picking The unearthed Conception larvae That it's the only Terminator Of the hated From without, From the pilfered debris, In its sleep so profound.
Reflex ---------------------------- A flow of sand empties The hoary rivers With no bridges, Forging fears, Dragging Billions of rats and dogs.
Death after death. Still cannot bite the hand, Just kiss it and lick it, Exhausted with the bodies' heat.
Through the female throat Across the cuts on the skin Down to the hands Hail the bitter tears Shed over the crags Of distorted bones and sinews.
In fear with melted eyes Insanely dashing aside From his own shadow Someone of them sang.
Twitching and writhing Strangled in own relics, They suck strange breast and bones Out of pity.
Death after death. They do not quench the thirst But search for dry drops In a rain!
Their flesh itches and aches Hoarsely barking Through sand and rot, The barely breathing prayer Howls feebly in unispasm For the peace of the soul.
They are the heralds Of the new age And the old one, Chewed by the rustling Of their fetid plague Over the flabby breast Of mother Earth.