It's Ought To Us To Graze Poem by noufel bouzeboudja

A born country
To create its inhabitants
Super-citizens, sub-citizens
Escaping men, terrorists,
Beggars

Beings turned towards past
Which is delivered from
Recent and old imprisonments
In rags and fragments

Tear, harmful incision
A population submitted
To a theoretical guillotine
Of a present-question
Of a future-question

Monstrous fallacies
With no limit nor border

The mules’ wedding
We attended
Was the origin of the mess
And the origin of the coward decay

A heavy omission overwhelming our present
An ignorance sewing the intention
The intention of our shadow-masters

It’s ought to us to graze
To follow, to feign
To browse their litanies
In a stiff time
In favour of our plenty gods
Who dramatically condition
Our needs
Who are ejecting our energies

Empty decades and heavy
Open and closed era
Overburdened and tyrannized
generations

Skimped beings
Into moral borders
Into mental limits

We are a mere reservoirs
Reservoirs of sub-humans
Led, delivered, reduced to analysis
Reduced to the unquestioned error
Then we’ll applaud or…
Insult, as in the past
Our super-citizens
Who are dazing our sons
Using football, drugs,
Alcohol and religion

The river is roundabout
And beautiful things are not yet born

Thus, we refuse to think
Even when we think
We only think about -ismes
Recently introduced
Or we only think about our empty and eager bellies
Our heads, not emptied but hollow,
Sometimes prevent us of thinking

If our misery, by an idea
Is not charged
Rebellion is not for tomorrow
Submission is our fate

Let’s then continue
Grazing and browsing
Let’s carry on cursing and insulting
Knowing that all this
Is in favour of our abundant gods
Let’s therefore graze and browse…