I
…in our wasteland
I wouldn’t remain- a Consciousness
in the upcoming Dystopia
New hidden prophets which recently
the Abys ejected wave to Men,
a blister/ an armor without self
create godlings with the man-names
which cares handbags of blue whale
which they’ve killed long time ago and
the Ambergris looted, and to
a Moschus glands and out of Civet…
I wouldn’t stay…
not to meet that old oak tree
while I walk the forest and
tread the dried leaves
my feet slides and I hear cracks
of boughs beneath the decay
and not be welcomed by hand
which from the Heart flows
the courtesy and from the Soul
the weeping that tears apart the sky
the path of the eagles which draw
the road for us invisible while
my flabbergast goes beyond
the white clouds while I still care
a book under my armpit because
I believe in Word told for some
three hundred thousand years
II
Let they remain…
the clones, the hybrids
the holograms, the humanoids
here will not be a place for us Sweetheart,
we’ll be taken to the Mid-World
where everything is seen but
is unspeakable I’ve said long ago
that we lack terrestrial vocabulary
for the celestial quest
Instead of wine perhaps we shall drink
the percolated emulsion of the waves
that goes through the darkness
of the Universe
We’ll recall the pearls of sweat
on the foreheads of our progeny
while they played till the late hours
just before the evening prayer and
the wasps zooming in their hair
the Shar’s cheese and the black tea
drinking on the balcony with
the chirping voices of cicadas
in the background, the rose petal jam
and the pumpkin cooked with
the grape syrup from our wine yard
a rabbit mother- absent,
in search for the food,
we’ll recall too our search for God
yet He’s absent or in us hidden
who knows?
