The shepherd of flames
Eats with his tongue extended
He has no hands
In the end
He has only the will to destroy
In the oven
In the chamber of suicide
On the battle fields
And in wild fires
Black tongues remain
That can't be seen.
He has limitless wealth
But it's of no use to him
Soon
He will combust
And after
Fly in ashes
In breezes.
His spouse
Will bring sticks to the fire
They will crack and burn
She will romanticize the fire
Pouring olive oil
And after
She will wear
A rope of hemp grass
Or of crushed palm leaves
Around her neck.

In Wait

Waiting for the tram
By this narrow lane
I spent a seed to germinate,
To grow into a tree,
To flower and fruition

Waiting for the train
By the blue lake
I spent an egg to hatch,
To wing into a sparrow
And fly away

Waiting for the ship
By the hill
I spent a sperm to be born
As myself as helpless,
To grow into a tall buffoonery

Vain, vain are the waiting,
Silence and loudness
And the hugs and cuddles;
Vain, vain are the waiting,
Cruelty and roar,
And frowns and spasms of porn

Foaming in the lake
Swimming and dipping into ponds
Tasting the wetted flesh
I would satiate
As if a lion
With a live stag eaten;
Or a tiger roaring gratified
With lots of venison tasted.