DANSE MACABRE

THE EVERLASTING END

There is a stage
And there is music
There are artists
That you detest
They die and cry
And fuck
On request

But
My baby wants only to dance...

They found us
Sitting over the stairs
Ate us alive
They stuck golden knives in our soft brains
So we could easily forget
Our lusts
Lovers that passed
And all the rest
Then they forced us to digest
All the Rests

But
My baby needs to dance
First...

There was a blood
And there are kids crying
There were guns
Screams
And protests
They used us up
Thrown over the fence

We're flying
Aeroplanes
Above this Everlasting End
That still smells
Like the Earth
We do must survive
Get down to defence

Yet
My baby dies
To dance...

QUESTIONS FOR THE DAY...

Silence
Crawls at us
As we open violet eyes
Bleeding
On the inside
We're red
Like dragons from a fairy tale
Except that our breath doesn't burn
And it's not a fairy tale at all

We are guilty
Like diamonds and gold
For what happens with this World
We-ourselves
We-alone

Then we wake up
And as our faces gain a trace of make-up
We grow pretty
We grow old
We grow in this pleasant war
That we play
To deal with those who hate
Including ourselves
To get
Laid...

Who decided to call us warriors
Who put those weapons into our hands
Heads
Who made our beds
Red like roses
That in fact drip with blood
Saliva
And sweat
Who cuts our bread into slices
And forgets to pray
Before

Why did we exchange future for past
Why do we last in yesterdays
Forever
Like tomorrow never comes
To us?
Oh us!

KIDS IN THE MUD

I wear the necklace of blue stones
Bought at some market
On Sunday Morning
Surrounded by the scent of Glory
And coffee
Always coffee
Black and blacker
Like a freckle on your tongue
I read tale about humen becoming aware of themselves
It's like song to worship the existence
And whole this World
Embraced by evolving shades of Green
Scattered around
We're free
To decide
To slide through lies
Lines
And start believing
Slide into full living
With eyes open wide
And somebody's image
On the iris
Reflected as if light
Took us by surprise
Wounded
And happy
Like kids in the mud
Or rain
We shall remember
We shall refuse to drain...

POWRÓT KRÓLA JASZCZURA

Gdzie jesteś?
Niemo oddycham
Twoim powietrzem
Powietrzem Twoich dzieł
A myśli moich ostatnie bezdechy
Nie mają już kształtu
Jakby transparentne
Lekkie
I lżejsze
I coraz cieńsze

Ciemny pocałunek wypełnia mi płuca
I uszy
Zostawiłeś ślady stóp jaszczurzych
I dłoni
W mojej duszy
I na skroni od zaklęć
Wyrosłeś zmarszczkami

Ty
Szaman Plemienia Poetów
Tatuaż zamiast skóry
Wąż zamiast imienia
Ty tańczacy bóg
Apokaliptycznego spełnienia

Wymyśliłeś świat
I umarłeś wtedy
Z odciskiem butów własnego Stworzenia
Na czole

Objety chłodnymi ramionami wanny
Wymieniłeś spojrzenie
Z jaszczurem przy bramie
W której muzyka się kończy niestety
I z krukami zasiadłeś przy winie
Które sączy się wciąż
I wciąż
Już nie miniesz...

Z Gigantami spożywszy
Krwawiacy posiłek
Rozpostarłeś
Skrzydła
Pokryte bliznami...

W rocznicę śmierci Króla Jaszczura