Page 70 - The_Lizard
P. 70
Coffee overflows into the streets
lifting the three-armed women
who cook, work, and raise.
A sad matriarchy left without options
after the men’s desertion.
The currency inflates
the worker toils
and the thief awaits the results.
The politics become more extreme
and the country that destroys its history
destroys its own solution.
Houses seem to melt down
the thermometer explodes.
There is no balance
what seems to be democracy
is not totally fair.
A musician takes hood slang
creates rhythms
the people jam the song
a dictionary writes them down.
An artist goes hungry if he does not adapt to imposed standards
his misery is reflected in the dark creatures he paints.
The dusty books
are regarded strangely by students
who have not heard the sound of the words.
We are all at the border of madness
in this society with its jarring structure
where the essential appears strange.
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