Graphically far away.
Empty cradles
and little babies run away
from clutches
of unmotherly moms
being not kind
and not sympathetic
at all.
Nothing is all they want to present
again.
Nothing.
As the endless hit on a computer keyboard
that compose depleted-uranium letters.
I put a wordbreak whenever I feel
the need.
Never respect metric impositions as rules
to step over
and even if it sounds bad
I don’t dislike it.
Purists of voice
and letter
compare to
“the pure-hearted”
can’t resist the impact.
On average i’m pissed at all.
Writings on a white wall
are worth as
the first experiences
a dude collect.
The first coins
given to you as an handout
in a dark corner of a square.
Lone and feverish.
Whirling shocked
and laid down to rot
in a powerlessness
martyrdom
that stay inside me
in a latent state
like hiding raw energy
always ready to come outside
in the hard times
of existence.
Thus spoke who you want.
Amen.