Palestine
(A drum to Magdalena )
Dragging
rocks,
bare feet
without direction,
when rivers
overflow fire,
there is no
more that run,
take the
speed of the wind, biting dust,
breathing
by cracked gums
running
gullies under the night.
Breezes are
not strange and the beautiful rubies,
beautiful as
the yinns
walk
through the halls of Bethlehem, alley of whores,
always remembering
to bring flowers to Magdalena,
because Mammon aspires to eat it,
bifid
tongue on your thighs;
perennial
hips of myrrh and wine,
horns of
plenty have sheltered it;
elephants
and camels loaded travelers, long lines of gold traders
things that involving weapons and money are
full of blood.
One day will
survive flies; and with them the nightmares,
but what gnawing
the flies nothing just but the dust or the bones?
the same
cassette of endless delirium and sadness, is repeated over and over again,
pregnant
daughters of larvae will copulate in your flesh, as necrophilia lover which is;
all
pregnant of the same color.
Dead steppe,
mothers elephants,
feet of clay and memories with smell of
strange roses,
sunk in the
mud flies.
When you go
down from the hill with your donkey loaded with firewood, in the cold night,
rent for
yourself some shelter, add color to your ocher traces
when get
flooded those carboniferous fire wings
hovering
since you left and you come home
giraffes
winged;
winged
giraffes at sunset ...
during the rain
fire in the low plain of Palestine;
salt
cocoons of Jerusalem
remember to
give her flowers to Magdalena,
dressed in
linen and silk,
a refuge
from bombs, an improvised and beautiful brothel,
remember,
gold coins and wild flowers to Magdalena,
and your
tongue will vibrate to the pulse of her belly,
to not
trade the Kalashnikov,
and you
keep playing in war your old drum rom pom pom pom,
with sad
eyes christmas shepherd;
in that
your hard loneliness, food by demon nations. Resist.
Photo at Palestine Pictures™
@Palestine_Pics
