ANTIUTOPIA
Behind the madmen cities,
Some see a hillock, fitting
For pitiful cloudgazers.
They're buried in the litters
Of sharpened shiny shards…
… and lost within the mazes.
Spellbound to be sitters
And lay the eggs of glitter,
That folk exists there, singing,
According to moon phases.
The captives of the spheres
Are tangled in king's laces
And nets of seedless dreaming,
Devouring plastic peaches
… of banal wishful thinking.
They only craved for living
Of blindly burning stars…
And got those vacant faces,
Black holes within the eyes.
They scatter bitter praises:
"We thank our king for giving
And curse ourselves for taking.
With cruelty he's lavish,
So generous with teaching
But we just keep forgetting".
2
Behind the madmen cities,
You'll find those ever-sleeping,
Top-clients of dream makers
And slaves of instant wishing.