Homage to conscience

- thanks to F.G.L., L.C., and H.R.K. for their inspiration
- to the fool and his muse


There's an imbecile visiting me in my dreams every night

telling me stories of things I never longed to hear

my right ear closes its shutters while my left one screams

taking its psychoses to its counselor only to find

that he is occupied making love to his underwear

while my soul is suffocating in his oral excrements

hardly able to shut out the noise and euphuistic add-vice


There's a hamster chasing away its loneliness

in a giant Ferris-wheel while its feet are catching fire

Curiosity kneels in front of it and draws its EEG

its colors reflect a mesmerizing multitude of pain

inscribed on scars whose crusty innocence is picked

by eagles and condors with wings clipped in flight

the albatross sits grinning resting his head on his feet


There's a right to arms and a right arm protruding justice

signing its vengeance towards anything different from right

driving religion into empty hearts and souls to fill a vacuum

left behind by asocietal morals in conflict with material wealth

where Christmas has been locked up in a giant supermarket

where you and I go to exchange gifts wrapped in foot stamps

to celebrate the birth of yet another victim of our boredom


There's a flock of salivating prophets turning children into gold

their eyes into clouds and their skins into calcite alabaster

resolving their identity in burning fragments of decaying stone

leaving them on battlefields from Phnom Penh to Tahiti

where their weapons are rusting on the beaches of paradise

catching one last tan before returning to their indigenous ritual

yoked in marriage to some entity they call supernatural being


There's a group of bodies occupying space in housing projects

raising children to be our future generation in hate and in crime

watching their faces covered with fancy blue-green patterns

from teachings while their mothers endure one constant rape

and we keep looking on and impose on them our ethereal standards

of right-left-wrong born out of morbid ideas that are representing

an idealistic perspective which no one in their right mind can defend


There's a moon shrouded in tatters of carbon monoxide fabric

watching but no longer able to reach us with its guiding light

its starlike companions have long since abandoned their twinkle

and even the tide now takes its time and no longer tries to rush back

it was replaced by a glutinous mixture of something black and brown

creeping slowly steadily and no longer with any form of warning

towards the only tree still standing waving one last branch in defiance


There's a fool masked in hope returning to my sleep every night

bringing back pictures whose colors we reduced to black and white

he reminds me of the faces of children that are filled with innocence

while playing in the sunlight reflected in the eyes of my sleeping lover

who is dreaming our future and whose soul echoes my promised vow

that I shall continue walking the one path that will lead others

and I will always be there for her if she dares to walk along.