Watch rot what once was living
When its thread of life is first cut,
It is without blemishes

Life itself has sustained a connection between all functions
Then death blight creeps slowly over it,
Like a plague which vanquishes all in its way

Soon the matter will be completely
Enveloped in a dismal grey
Brown and black: its odour will abhor
Most unsightly; with none of the vigour
That once made it proud

From the day a child is born it must live
Day to day with its afflictions
Until a certain age that child will smile;
Then one day it realizes everyone is despiteful

Ode to the ship of fools!
Das Narrenschiff!

This is the paradigm of our time
And how we must pity a new soul born unto this world
To join the universal guild of ultimate paradox

To be marginalized into silence
A world devoid of expression

Chained to the ship of paradox
Scraping the seabed like an anchor
Wishing staunchly to free itself
Cutting and defiling the hull with all strength

Fighting the arms of the human winch
In all incessant restlessness one cannot escape
A slave to the paradoxical guild

In an anthem to this modern world
We vomit upon the rudder of imposed destiny

A remnant of hope that our shackles will one day snap in two
Ode to the demise of the paradoxical guild!

In the chasm of mental decay
At the base of the magnet which heaves you below
Is the allegory of day by day abasement

To which one helplessly gives up themselves
To a lure without a face

Its repulsion is only felt amidst longevity
Thence its scale of hideousness is eventually revealed

On the day of realisation
A hall of fame looks from every angle
With portraits of utter self-contempt
Every one of them placed equidistant
Staring in geometric perfection to taunt and to goad
Their so tantalising eyes are no more than marbles

A cuspidor for ashes is the receptacle for the human race
For those who have relegated themselves unto extermination

A sceptre to control the world plunges
Those souls into poison
And in that poison those souls are spat out in haste

In my template humanity metamorphosises
Under force and subjugation.

When I was young I could not understand why the body
Of a bitter man had become withered in sourness.

But then I watched my eyes freeze over like a lake during
The culmination of reminiscence over
The entire course of
my years of knowing.

Should I therefore smile in the face of meaninglessness?
For those that are fearful of the hidden
Those blind and blessed with an absence of intuition
Who sadly cannot explain their purpose

I can then do nothing in this world
For instead I am seemingly free now within open prison bars

One azure, one shade, one of many expressions therein
In tandem with the Earth, man creates his own tomb;

For life is like a bullet fired involuntarily
Into the back of the head

As we look ahead we are helpless
Against the point in time in which it strikes us
At best we can ignore the barrel pointed at us
Some are not aware of that metal shaft of death

When those minute drops permeate into our skin we age along with the rate at which those
Very tiny globes of water evaporate
And then we wonder if we might have some control

The fire of youth inspires boundless, profound expression.
At times this expression exceeds logical magnitude.

Hatred can be so incessant that one will not tire of it;
Like a man who makes it his life's work to succeed
In creating what his vision casts in stone for years ahead

But one day this life long struggle with adversity presents
Itself to that once youthful man
Who can now only see
the ludicrous angles of it.

(Sinking into a slumber and exhausted state this man's
Passion is now the embers, not the fire)
And the apex of blindness in absolutism
Turns into a linear hue.
As the embers fade and part of the psyche gradually
Turn to ashes, the moribund purgatory
Of anticipation presents itself.
When all the embers are grey, the candle is blown out.
A life of scorn can scourge no more.