On the wall of age

  

Unnecessary apologetic sentences

 like promised speeches flow easily through angry,

 leaky brains like Léthe water.

 Even holy water is like a dehydrated smoothie.

 Even so, the wounds multiplied unconsciously,

 like fiery traces of prison burned into

 the skin. 

Unfinished Saturn tattoos

 hide a memory and a sad tear.

Unchecked, grief and joy explode;

 objectively alienated...

 - The charred precious minutes,

 I fear, hold almost nothing more.

 They are lost without a trace.

 In the fading twilight the shadows

 seem more and more brave.

 - Lonely Generation Yes drift on

 regardless of age, 

for they too can no longer

 believe that words with magic

 powers must be followed by deeds.

In our country in transition,

 the smell of a total, paroling

 dictatorship is increasingly pervading:

 leaden, lousy, bribe-shaming.

 Like a swampy marshland,

 where only water-soluble weed

 trails and bubble-gum pits grow.

 Pale, emaciated Pharaoh masks

 the chained Freedom, stamped independent;

 it feels still, more and more unsteady,

 more and more uncertain,

 the fragmentary Existence.

Life, multiplied and unliving,

 is wasting away in age, and bound in fetters,

 waiting for the redeeming Charon punt.

 In a deliberately muffled,

 bellowing procession of geese,

 they praise each other in a loud,

 mindless way, and while the poets

 of the 20th century are listed

 and preached at festive,

 truncated conferences,

 their contemporaries are also

 on the banned list, 

while they are deliberately forgotten.

 Critical thinking is now suspended!