The fig leaf fell from the poem,
the naked question of paradise.
The Garden is melting down
in neo-narcissistic chemical measures
in this eternal moment right now.
Globalization in the flame
the thick energy of the fallen angels
(an image in the mirrormachine of awareness)
leading a opportunistic mass
to move a little bit faster
deep inside the exciting illusion
of security.
The magic child is
blooming in the fields of joy
against all odds
in these crying rainbows
behind the soul.
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