Contemporary wound-scratching

  

I have never received

 the redemptive pardon of criminals.

 I was forced to lick 

my stigma scars like a dog,

 until I was totally disappointed

 and totally disappointed with

 full-blown worms in 

the midst of false prophets.

 For no matter how small,

 whether it is a scar or

 a scout's scar or a car

 accident-induced study wound,

 the bone-cracking, fierce-galadic

 pain reaches to the very core

 of the soul and penetrates

 like a digestive poison.

To endure silently out of the circle,

 its fate may at any time become

 accustomed to man's vulnerability,

 and with will and patience,

 even with hand-holding dreams

 in his hands. 

It is increasingly difficult to behave

 as a human being in a world beyond the eyelids.

 It would be better to be a cowering beast,

 though forced to live,

 to tell the future on the pages

 of the codex of your existence,

 to decipher:

 how many more trials,

 how many more heart-rending

 universal disappointments

 must we endure and endure?! -

Why can't love's harmonious metamorphosis

 be the final place?

 I would like to shout the truth,

 the judgmental merciless:

 "Let us all wake up to the Real!

 Let no one be mean or envious!"

 - Let the idle moments of a yarrow-life's

 bliss be valued to the utmost

 - else an unexpected tragedy

 of fate may come at any moment.

What can one answer when one's head

 can easily go to the wall from sermons

 spouting false words?!

 No matter what is being spouted

 from megaphones or through

 the gallows of the state media.

 Our days, like the scorching grains of sand,

 are already numbered in advance.

 So let us not have unnecessary headaches.

 The universal knowledge that brings light,

 though locked up in a cage of boorishness,

 is faithfully guarding until

 the last minute a sacred ideal!