She shows her self To those who will listen
She talks To those who will see
O, Boring rhetoric speakers
With your government made laws.
We all know already
All that you have to say
And loose ourselves in thoughts
Assembled in a waiting room
A forum with only one
White window, only one
Question – When will they come?
We are waiting for a sign
– O Barbarians!
You shall be so dazzled, confused even
By empty streets and squares.
Only ministers / predators parading
In emeralds and togas carrying
Their canes of gold
While we are waiting here
– Waiting to unfold.
When the night is moving closer
Our excitement grows, but then
We are dazzled, confused even, there are
No barbarians coming, men tell us
Who come in from the borders,
Waiting as well.
And when the night keeps falling
Borders, mayors, home secretaries, the Queen herself
What are we going to do now?
She walks home from the city’s main gate
Cleans her crown of jewels for auctioning, and we,
I guess we’ll slowly leave this room
Maybe leave one or two behind.
No body can strap body parts together as he can.
He is a reward-drawer who believes in smart-trams
and draws you spam-maps.
He fools you into straw-eating warts and when you scream
for more he is the one who brings you plate after plate of more
erecting with his left hand columns, castles.
He knits and stinks and peels sleep off you
when you need it the most. A pubic hair falls
off his finger and starts its fight with feathers.
He is a redivider, a petrifier and he speaks backwards.
But maybe one day we will see through and sum up:
The devil lived in a doomed mood
That we can do without. We fooled him
with sensuousnes(s) or stayed forever quiet.
Anger? ’tis safe never. Bar it! Use love
(or: Evoles ut ira breve nefas sit; regna
Which means more or less the same).