Sunday, November 30, 2008

day 100

on the 100th day,

we came out from our hiding, beneath the subterranean mines, where depleted of its resources, we could no longer keep our silence.

on the 100th day then,
we made an impression.
henceforth, we spoke, at length - these words:

We, as witnesses of this generation,
speak, with great trembling
of fear, lest we commit the cruel act
of leading astray more who are already astray.
Listen, then, those without your ears
and think, with as much wit as you can muster.
what is left is little;
what is to be said, even more pertinent
with as little words as we can,
we declare -
a generation of plagues
ruthlessly constructed by
a hyper-reality of the transparent world.

This World, always has been this World,
is where we believe in false teachings of
democracy,
liberty,
superficialities that only mask our true vanity
concerned with our health and wealth
we hide behind closets of gold chests
and mascara faces
we lie to our souls that the present age has hope.
we have had hope for centuries
and generation after generation of abyssal repetitions
one monster after another
how many more babies are there left to embrace?
only minefields and graveyards of mutilated bodies
declarations and manifestos of deluded ideologies
do we have enough populations to sacrifice
yet another massacre?
yet another silent mob?
No, we do not fight our wars with hijacked planes
and golden palaces
and staged rallies
we fight our wars with classrooms and manuals
our children are our arch-angels of wrath
our children are our Pucks with mischievous magic tricks,
inherited not only from fathers
but grandparents and dead people.

Do not listen to us say more,
what is said has already been done.
you will stone us, you will mock us
you will think we are foolish
you will think we are just pretenders
You will listen to the well-dressed wolves
you will listen to the men who cry Change.
you will listen to the women who seduced with Change
what has changed?
more men charging down the crowded streets with erected statues
banging on doors to enter the garden of Eden
and to violate the only last messenger of hope.

Alas,
We have no gospel to preach to you
We have no glad tidings to tell you
We have no ships to deport you from this hell
We only have more words, like your words,
on monitor screens
Ones and Zeros and in between,
to regurgitate what has already been foretold
You will hate us
You will shake more hands
hug more bodies
rape more bodies
and wear nice gowns
and praise more people
and crown more princes and princesses
hold more balls and banquets
shoot more fireworks into the dead sky
cover the great constellations of the universe
and impatiently wait for the sun to die
to implode
to disappear.
You will, with thanksgiving, await
News of new kings
of new devils
of kings against kings
of angels against demons
of one-sided narratives
among 1000-fold manuscripts,
derived from fearsome warlords
and equally fearsome peasants.
who only take our turns to stand on stage.

while you sleep,
will you dream?
what will you dream?
of the serpent again and again?
entice us, ensnare us, endure us
returning nightly to lay with us
to bite its own tail
to give us presents
which drop from the sky
which drop into windows
which we step on
which follow us
which teach us
which clothe us
We cannot run or hide from gifts
What is the Gift of this world?
Alas!
It is sin!

We are ending this soon
Sin, das Gift
a poison but also the pretext for salvation
Thorns that come with the roses
The bile that comes with the excretion
It stands before at every door
at every entrance
Help us,
We cry,
suffer
but we also suffer for lesser things
we cheat ourselves that the Gift is long gone
but the World and the Gift remains
Not even as a trace.
They are solid.

CHANGE is their name.
CHANGE is their banner.
CHANGE is their rhetoric.
We become sophists and polemics
that make us fools.
how many must die?
how many must be chained?
more heads will roll
more tongues will be cut
while princes sing and crown us with jewels and diamonds of the world
Extract us and pull us away from them
we want our voices back
to sing songs that You know
to dance with bodies only You gave
Find us again, find us again in the desert
we abide there,
nightly with our crying silent voices
only You hear
only You witness

Find us again, find us where we are least expected to be found
as prostitutes
taxcollectors
adulterers
thieves
lepers
murderers
as people who have long given up hope for salvation
as witness to our own gifts
now, let us be witnesses to the outside world
to the world we don't belong
let us not jump down buildings
let us not make the train tracks bloody
let us not swallow pills
let us not create images that haunt people
let us, instead believe
we are not meant to fly
but to remain as we are
here, there,
to not illuminate a broad path to some faraway place
but to illuminate this already too bright world.
We will find the needle in the haystack
we will fit the camel into the eye of the needle
let us stop talking
we talk too much
as we did.
let us be hated
for it is not us they hate
but who we stand behind for.
Let it be done
as it should be done.
Not anywhere else
but here, there
in us, outside us.

erasure.
deconstruct
us.



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