In the heat of the sun of the words
Infinitely deep traces
That once would dry up all flesh
So an ice bear was digging through
Traces of skin to find words
Scenting.

The ice bear smacked while scrunching
The traces of the heat and the sun;
The taste of the traces was akin to its
Earlier life as an hyena's child in the
Jungle of a ruined country.

The ice bear was sighing, his head lifted
To the polar light, emerging from the
Shining of black space —
Traces from colorful, dry fog.

At once the ice bear fell asleep
In the traces of light and memories.

Mastermind always plans perfectly
Leaving nothing to chance
Before war it counts its enemies
Blessed with sound sleep
Its car is similar to Osama's.

Never act irrationally, that's how
Mastermind remains invincible
What happened in the hail of bullets?
Two snitches were killed, so
Forty winners remained.

Amateurs in beef with
Grown men in a tower
Weather below zero but
Blessed with sound sleep
Leaving nothing to chance.

Everything planned perfectly.

The kingdom of silence is opening its
Gates for the wounds of
Light.

Where has the scrawny,
***** father gone in
All these years? Talk of
Cigarettes; Then the father
Vanished in lies; leaving a son
Behind.

That son was usually looking for
Letters under the heads of the
Ancients; at that he rummaged
The hair of graceful mothers,
Addicted to diamonds, coldhearted:
Generous and benevolent to the son.

Thirty-eight years later, an invincible
Wound remained where the kingdom
Of silence used to be: A wound having
The textur of a mirage, a
Misperception of scorn and emptiness.

Hold it!
Milliseconds of our
Connection in the green pond,
Where among the words of ancient
Ancestors our reflection is melting in the
Premonition of an undreamed desire.

This
I disclosed to you in the first
Stanza, now I'm taking
All the memories of
Days from simple acts,
When we used to
Steal pocket money for
Our gang of canned dogs,
Whose furs sparkled silverly in
The sun.

That's how
Our childhoods ran past the
Years, passing restless mouths of
Which nights had teared off the
Zippers
Dude!
It's already this late?
What did the thieves
Do to the time?

For all sentimentals in misery
For the miserable in the diamond's mouth
For the exchange of dignity against hate
For the thugs at the poker tournament
For all manipulated light switches
For your pistol against my piece
For the thought delusion in the morning
For staying up on trains
For the ancient ******'s breath
For Golem's fat shanks
For slapping dem **** wasps
For mimicry, white flags, deepred
For the lisping genius
For the project beat of the Spaniard
For pumping iron: shoulder, neck, triceps
For the massive, leaden scale
For the room of mirrors

For writing

The timepieces died last
Ahead the walls of crumbling hope
Translators were looking for
Bullet holes in nurseries

People filled suitcases
Dialing emergency numbers, bolting
Locks and doors
Belongings remained

*

Masses walking through cities in
Processions of velvet
Sobbing in chorus
Eyes blinking wearily

Nights they got to the
Steelblue and silent ocean
Lightly it lay before the
Respiring masses

*

They were holding their breath
As a luster was emerging
Nobody had ever seen
This luster

The masses stretched widely
Their fingers bent and
Cold for the luster
Like moths into the light

*

The masses were catching fire
Faces ablazed
Bodies turning from yellow
Skins into heaps of ash

Thus the exodus came to an end.
Heat was flickering in the sea
Deathgrey vultures circling
Through the air of black acid.

Die from my arms
I held back all winners
Who were coming for you
To tear you to pieces

Die with benevolence
In the fog of this world
By the countless suns
Red dawn