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July 29 Paper Jesus......On the wall, off the altar, and inbetween your breasts,
He hangs a man, dead or about to be, for your sins.
In the palace , inside the mansion, his image for salvation,
He pulls his picture, saves you from damnation.
In this geometry, his dimesions, I see the Paper Jesus,
His story so mind made in nature, the world knows,
My foes, so earth made in pain, on your face it shows,
Mine is yours, yours is yours too, its always in the news.
Your peace i dont need, and the needed didnt get it either,
Your salvation I cant digest, your heaven i dont want to enter,
Our machines never saved your sons, nor a single daughter,
Our imaginations gave you names, and Im not the only loner.
Why is it that your Paper Jesus, time and again only mourns,
Is it a readymade answer, for your world that always and only bleeds,
My world was not made by you, gagged emotions, onesided reflexes,
Your books and mine have no connections, Im a human, dying on a daily basis.
Inverted MeYes! the sun shined like she just gave birth to something,
Something so powerfull, something thats all light.
The inverted me, startled with hope,between hell and will,
Then came the blasphemy, that was bottled in for a while
Sweet pain, holy death, and the crimson blood, religeous kill.
Pathetic to the inverted me, passionate to the circus town,
Why then are you still inhaling the sin, and exhaling the dead?
Now those are questions, with answers, no sacred scribe
No pontif's wiggling tail, no paper that bleeds and no one to lend.
Bend here and kiss his feet, raise there and slit his throat.
So inverted, so inverted, it smells of burning flesh,
So inverted, so inverted, it hails when they will finish. July 18 Having Fun?They called out, when I heard them, it was too late.
It was so late, that I could hear the sound of thier lungs explode,
I crumbled down, into the spiral, into the ruins of hope.
And when natural light started shining, its cowardly vibrance dead,
Just Dead like them, silence and its criminal bond
Was scatered all around me, I could not breath,
Could not stand, but that was just the begining,
Women, in black overalls, gathered around me, thier eyes moist,
Not for me, but for the colour of my skin, not one of them,
Yet lying with thier dead, someone's left hand to my immediate wright,
His silver citizen said half past twelve, when my tongue tasted water.
I drank the whole clay pot, then someone tried to lift me, wasted.
The people I came with screaming in pain, Why wasnt I?
The thought rang a bell in my still working mind, my head , it ached.
I lifted my head to find my lower half completely covered with human reamins,
Were they limbs, muscles, or internal organs my mind questioned my eyes.
No answers were sent back, as I reclined, the stench worked its way to my nose,
With similar questions,sent to and fro, without any answers, I was now awake.
I tried to gather and walk, fearing if I still had legs to do so,
With a gentle push, I was now sitting with those remains on my own lap,
And yes it was a pile of all that we call a fully grown human,
I reckon a girl , raveged into pieces, torn to the very bit and on me.
The fear of it all gripped my spine as i felt the warmth of my blood,
Tricking down my left armpit, I didnt know from where or how
Using my hands I tried to lift off the remains, I could not,
And as I collapsed again, I rememberd the last words I had uttered over
Just a few minutes before one of the dead , comitted sucide .........
I'd asked someone with all the content and joy......."Having Fun?" |
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