From the white podium
of my imagination, I sleep
with the dream language
of the rest of humanity
living in the republic of treason
In a world I no longer believe in
verily verily I walk the gardens there
where sarcasm has become the
dominant narrative for surviving
Nihilism, I look for the keys
Of revolution or change, but there
Are non here, politics has become
the language of mockery, infidels
the criminals who own us now
it is truly no evidence of a great soul
to live a long life here, maybe
withstanding these cruel games
From the white podium of my imagination
I have learned, how to die well
with my dream language
I trade in apparitions, and refuse
to live standing still like a dead beetle.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Anna-412756504
Wuji Seshat 