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A blind deity sleeps deep in her tomb.

her heredity is the law of a covetous womb.

Every mouth’s shut

And each religion is a slut.

Ne obliviscaris

the filthy centuries of wars,

when bright idea’s

enslaved into the smarmy whore.

Hands are maimed

and cannot hold the truth.

Minds are framed

and dutiful with no one’s proofs.

Deaf gods won’t hear your prays.

Senile schemes – but whom to blame?

Postulates became a prey

to the wretched and the lames.

Cataracts devoured days.

Think or not – it’s all in vain.

Each spirit’s thirsty

for care and meaning of all things.

The pride is bursting

inside a cage of the unwinged.

Come, take heed,

shower your blood upon the fields

rich with weeds,

prosperous under the guilt.

To sow

The white gardener arose

this soil

with thousands of poppies and a rose.

This land is

washed up by widows’ tears.

The life is

in our hands (in their) fears.

Ne obliviscaris

the care and meaning.