Vision
…Anywhere I turn I see cheapness
and debauchery the statues see too
and groan in disbelief as the ancient
sun laments the life passing
in front of the imitation of Hermes
who sheds tears of desperation
at high noon, the hour shadows
vanish and the heavy load
of the consumer infiltrates
into the soul of my homeland
this is the time of the miasma
the dawn refuses to look at
or take part in the conspiracy
anywhere I turn my eyes
I see puppets and servants
of a system that buys them out
for the luxury of the little joy
they supposed to need and for which
they remain slaves forever
