They already said I am the weird one
Chasing my dreams through midnight high ways
but I miss the dead!
Not for the reasons you would!
More rotten minds, solve my ills
More ghostly tassels guide my dreams
Than fleshy foams of wet marrows
More people alive than any dawn in time
they are as alive as fossils of humanity
Yet More oil-less wrist payed for my dreams
More cartilage-less knees paved my greatness
Buying my freedom with their bag of bones
There is no jealousy from the borders of the grave
Socket-less eyes saw more
Than the future we behold
The solutions today
Are problems of old
The price of the living
Are paid with coins of the dead
The treasures that we adore
Are secrets of the gone!
The dead are not dead
They speak in eerie silence, worded silence
Ask the soul of the night
She would bear my witness
Their anguish in the winds
There sorrow in the frost
As the living waste away
We are too deafen to hear
Too earphoned to listen
Maybe the dead are alive
And we are the ones that need to be
The way it looks to me
Many are still yet to live
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem