“Only through new words might new worlds be called into order”
No more cheeks glazed with raindrops, no more roses with thorns--
Only through new words might new worlds be called into order.
I speak of cracks in the pavement, out of which nothing is born,
Not of the green meadows and valleys worn out by immortals.
I speak of a landscape neither barren nor devoid of feelings,
I speak of a garden hidden away from the diligent muses.
I will recite my poetry into the drainpipes of nearby buildings
Until lifeless street-lamps grow ears to discern its music.
Listen! This is a call to bear arms for the sake of a new revolution.
This is a call to bear layers of burdens until hearts are laid bare!
This is a call to hand over overused metaphors to executioners, --
A penny for a thought till there’s plenty of change to spare.
This is a call for a change of movement, a change of rhythm,
A call to turn turntables over and use them as drums for the beat…
A call for the heartbeat to cover the everyday skyline with ripples,
And to rip out the clouds that continue to cling to our feet.