Everyone of us here is
in one way or another, and by all means,

exploited. Look at these bloated masters
for whom we
serve so blindly,

they have become coated with
fat
and they all look rich and
sick and
filthy and they pat our backs
and tell us that
we are all doing good

technically, we are,
fools, modern academic fools,
idiots,

we have made monsters
who leave us nothing to ourselves
but our
being undignified

your name is
analogous to
a tongue
in cheek, your favorite
figurative
language
for human relations

i do not have
an iota of
doubt over my past
stupidities

this kind that believes
right away
what every mouth
has to say

i guess i have
not yet learned the language
of the press

underneath the water
is a bed
of air

everything in this
planet of yours
float

nothing settles down
for the
truth

there is this song
which tackles about faith
this walking
faith
in your heart where
you shall never
then
walk alone

God is fair.
Your voice is
like the sound of
a broken bottle
but as
i told you
i admire your
spirit
that courage to
sing like
a defeated warrior
after
the war

years separated us
when we meet again there will
be usual questions like

how is life? did you marry?
how many kids? how old are they now?
where do you work?
where do you live now?

i am tired of all these questions,
frankly i am not interesting and nothing interests me
perhaps
i was made sour by all those years,
but sometimes i may compromise
( but not a civil as you may think me to be) and
so i have my answers now, like

life is not really that miserable.
i got married, no kids only dogs in the house
(not applicable),

oh i work with a gavel,
and i live in my navel.

perhaps i am just dissatisfied with what
life has given me,
and you who claim to have kids like grapes
work like heaven, house like a castle,
and you who is like a story with a
happily ever after ending,

well, thank God, you are like everybody else,
you own a wife, and kids and house,
yourself is multiplied, your face is xeroxed,
your wealth is not just well preserved but
progressed like
hell,

you have chattels and servants and perhaps slaves
and submarines and nuclear weapons,
you have a brand new car,
an excellent paycheck,
by all means, to my mind, you are a superhero
and you have everything
everything

and yet, oh well, just like rest of the people in this world
you are never, never contented, you still ask for more

how much? how long? how wide? no one knows.

on those
empty hours
those passengers fidgety on their seats
waiting
for the next boat

the time that pass
like seagulls without seeing any fish
on the surface of
the sea

that belly
with a protruding navel
borne out of
a sick
mother

the light that is on
at noon time
on a door closed
of an
abandoned house

two bodies making love
in the name of
emptiness

prostitutes without
customers
in a bar
so cold and a singer
that sings
a Whitney Houston

messy room
of a student hooked to drugs

kitchen filled with bugs
and toilets
unflushed for days

flies that invade
a rotten rat
competing with worms

Art thoust
serve

i shall satisfy you all
none shall go home without a gift

i give you the beauty of
a silent face

to another the fullness of
open arms

and to the most patient of them all
i shall give what i have always kept

for quite a time
this nothingness of the mind

this anticipations of the soul
this path that leads to more

gardens of flowers in that
fertile fields of free formations.