Can you make me a name
Out of the clay of overused words
Make a sound that commands attention
In a cacophonous world that cannot
Distinguish
Its own music
Can it be that we are nothing more
Than an aboriginal dream
Once fitted to the life bone, now broken
Beneath the cosmic shoe of an
Inquisitional conquest
Leave me on the desert sand
An empty cup
A piece of bread
And a sharpened knife
To make the passage
From mirage to mirage
More interesting.
(Previously published as Ozymandias II in Gone Hollywood, Indelible Mark Publishing,2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem