…dark day when your Soul, oh
Polis will settle far away
onto the graceful lands lit
by the sun rays, in the April
air and startling the sun
your KINGDOM, nourished
by your shed blood, will appear
in the startled sunlight, like
laughter, a lie, a vague image.
Here’s your two-headed eagle! It
flew away, far away with all
your holiness to adorn other
lands, mountain peaks and other
hillsides. It takes along your
crown to the North and to
the West where it establishes
its power, its glory held in its
talons; the laughter and the lie
of the kingdom that was created
by you and flooded by the light
look, oh God, it crawls in
front of a taxidermy owl;
it’ll live with all the low lives
without any grace it’ll bow in
front of prophets who look
like midgets and harlequins
and its critics and wise men
the masters of logos and
arts promoters have become
eunuchs and governors
and when you die your dead
body, given to the sin, won’t
ever find a piece of peaceful
soil to be buried, but it’ll
remain a carcass left on earth
food for the dogs and serpents
leaving behind your legend
of a miserable skeleton that
no one wants to remember.

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