Occupy Madness Poem by Artchil Daug

I found myself standing in the middle of the floor
with men caught clapping by the sound of a bell they adore
black suits, black souls they're wearing listening to a bore
while opening their mouths talking without vestige of rapport

thus, I started screaming, screaming on this ugly floor
on the death of a god they're aching, aching to adore
these sheep got lost wandering these noisy flock what a bore
all they hear is that loud ringing, a bell without rapport

thus, I started whispering to the unity on the floor
but all is white noise sounding in the crowd that adore
even if with grenades they're ignoring me, a bore
listening to that final sound ringing without rapport

thus, I pulled the pins walking, hurrying on the floor
as the grenades swiveled spreading on this room they adore
then all I heard was the screaming, ending the noisy bore
replaced by that silence singing, with joy and rapport;

death was god and god a dreaming,
smiling ‘til there's nothing



nothing on death's door.