After work
I usually go home
to rest my body in a motionlessness.

I'm watching tv
and think how fortunate I am to not to be on the screen. And that this world
is a sad place to be, for you don't suffer yourself anymore,
and you don't suffer seeing others suffering,
doomed to emotionlessness of Twenty First Century.

After work
I'm watching ****. That is my way to bring my dead body to life,
like electric shock for someone who died.
Don't blame me for that.
We all have our own way to survive another day in "paradise".

I'm watching
bodies ******* bodies, and I forget for a while, that I am nobody,
and that body
is all what remained from soul,
and that *******
is all what remained from love.

And that all we've managed to save from the End
is naked certainty that there's no God left,
only us, only our bodies,
craving to be alive and copulate.

I hope that is what you wanted to hear.

Who needs another saint?
Not ***** Holly, she's doing okay
without them. Her ***** is home to many men,
her ******* brought thousands dead to life,
Her mouth and her ***
do miracles! And she always says: I should be saint!
I deserved it, for ******' sake!

Who needs another saint?
Not Jake, a murderer,
no one and nothing can help him.
And he can't help himself. He tried twice,
but he failed. The rope wasn't strong enough.
He hates saints. He says it's them
who make him a sinner. A murderer. He says
they tapped the rope.
Who needs another saint then?

Pope.

Pop *****.
Pop smells bad.
Pop stinks actually.
Stinks like
dead.

His stinge is loud,
his thumping smell
reverberating,
turning neighbours' life
into death.

And no one in town
is concerned.

Pop is dead,
Rest In ****,
**** you came from,
**** you believed.

They say:
"Get a different style every day".
They want you to become
a mannequin of the year.
They want you
to become one of them.
More they recruit, less sad they will feel
being mannequins.
More people join them,
better excuse they will have.

Don't listen to them,
it's mannequin talk,
it's a sad, fake life mannequin way.

Listen
to yourself.
Don't change.

It's supposed to be joyful tune,
why then it sounds so sad?
No happiness in it,
more like a funeral march.

Look at the bride,
she is so upset, so down.
Oh my God! She's crying!
Does anyone here know why?

Look at her husband-to-be,
his eyes and his whole face, so dim,
something is wrong
with him.

Something beautiful  should begin
with tying the knot.
But there's nothing to start,
more likely to stop.  

The bride was about to make
a great escape, run away.
But her man was faster than her.
And the vicar was faster then her man.

It's supposed to be joyful tune,
why then it sounds so sad?
No happiness in it,
more like a funeral march.

Francis is calling from Nigeria. Hi Francis.
Welcome to the show, thanks for getting in touch.
I've never been to Nigeria, but I've heard that
it's a beautiful country.
Yes, but...
Have you got
a safari in Nigeria?
Yes but a bit different...
That's cool! I'd love to see that! Francis, what are your
plans for tonight?
We are going to...
Let me guess -
to the party. That's awesome! Have a good time,
enjoy! You are young and free!
No we are going to
the local village, to bury bodies of few men,
they were killed...
Killed? Oh my God that's terrible,
tell us more! Were they killed by wild animals?
No, by...
Hello? Francis? Are you still there?
We've lost our listener, unfortunately. What a shame.

They call me
a man,
a poet, a tree,
a river, a flower, a bird,
a stone. Rain
and sun.
But none of these names
is mine.

My name is Noname.
I was named after nothing
and no one.