The voice of the rubble

Witness facing the Pantheon 

where the empty coffins of impostors

are carried to posterity.

 The grateful  homeland .

I ,the voice of the shadows 

 puffing on a ciggie 

between my yellowed teeth 

in the pale early morning light .

  Offered to the blade .

Can you hear me,  you powerful ones ?

Voice rising from the ruins,

claiming the thousand heads of the hydra !

Prophet of the hyena order ,

waving the monstrance of disaster 

on the herd being led to euthanasia...

Is all that remains .

 farce of a drama in which even hell 

no longer frightens the hobos

in evening  dress ...

 deaf people who confused the music 

of the spheres with crazy  rap 

for suburban rats ...

 I thought this ending would be heroic

like just an ancient tragedy ! 

  All is only antics .

The end is a mute sewer mouth

crying out for love 

from the cash box of illusions ...

How handsome are you Mr president !

Singing your praises to the heavens 

I await your priceless cheese ! 

How beautiful are you,first lady ,

mechanical Barbie doll ! 

 Your happy devotees 

wallowing in the stench of liberty !

 So many crimes commited 

 in your holy name ...

  Jester! chuck my soul to passerby 

it's worth no more than a dog's bowl...

Rebellion doesn't bring happiness 

but that is makes it  so wonderful...

The little father of the crowds 

gazes tenderly at his lethal double

as he prunes the rose bushes in his garden .

Poet,my gentle comrade ,fallen in Teruel 

for two pesetas of oblivion 

thrown to the mule of Guernica ...

Poor fool ,who in the smoking ruins

of the desecrated Eden ,

tears your hands on nettles  .

 I am the void that falls asleep in the rubble.

 Compos-mentis lying in the compost ...