In the palace of grass they chant hymns of paradise.
Stop the pain, can you feel.
What forms guide you through the jungle.
Can you see the birds in the sky.
Can I make out of the absurd something real like mickey mouse, or a tank, or a collective of stars. preaching to iguanas over murdered dreams of god, ridiculed in front of evil. Inmpotent scum.
Twisted mesiah arise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem