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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • SWIRLING NIGHTMARE OF CALAMITY

     

    The fleeting Present would encourage more and more: Step forward, you tohonya, unlucky lump! Start putting your things in order already after forty! You must not look back on the miserable past, which until now has only looted, poisoned and destroyed, and rammed into the ground. For commemoration, a more romantic, perhaps coastal, palm-tree environment would suit, without crowded tourist caravans.

    - Now you can even know about yourself, a mirageous, crying fog falls over your balding Sisyphus head; if your calling Guardian Angel does not watch over you - he is afraid - maybe there will be no goals, no dreams, no Tomorrows left. Age-born galloping and galloping can be heard in the distance; Belief in bad luck ready to be petty! "You shouldn't be so superstitious! After all, you would be a well-read person!" - In the shadow of your soul, a little person with the appearance of a puppy is hiding and just waiting for you to take his orphan by the hand.

    In this money-hungry, ugly world, you can't trust anyone anymore: that's why it's important not to sell yourself, don't humiliate yourself! The purer interest-intention - even if it existed - has been blackened for a long time; the jar becomes more and more truncated, in which the cooling water is also emptied. And while the miscarried, petty centuries gather dust on the battered stage of history, as a wise Yorick, I would do better if I made a series of questions and answers the subject of my investigations; the dream ships, deceptive promises, to which it used to be so good to cling faithfully and honestly, have disappeared! You will realize that soon, suddenly, without even realizing it, you are intentionally emptying yourself of your Time, which has started to become empty anyway. It is now the most difficult to listen to the innermost voices, because our melo-bamba dreams are increasingly deaf...

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