The yellow heaven comes
Flickering awake every night
At the stroke of five.
It glows in its full glory,
And the anemic yellow lights,
The yellow neons, the yellow bulbs,
And painting yellow the entire sky.
Silence, buzzing silence,
Silence filled with radioactive statics.
Hush down, contaminating sighs,
A city smeared with
This foul excreta,
And within its gaps and faults
Hide my fellow maggots and parasites,
Trembling in rage, shedding away
All their worthless pride.
In this pile of faeces perhaps
That is the only way to survive.
The way of the yellow gods,
The rule of the yellow paradise,
The dying moths suck up to the
Yellow brilliance,
Quenching that tantalean thirst,
Soothing that burn of yellow plight.
The high gods look down and smile,
From their penthouse at
The top of the high-rise.
Ah! the pleasure, the pain
And the writhing parasites.
As they gulp down intoxication
From their fountain of wine.
Upon the blood drained
Yellow bony body,
They drool and dine.
Just a simple snap of finger,
The maggots run away
From their holy divine sight,
Or crushed under shamelessly
Their xanthous divine right.
At the bottom of this gutter,
We remain enshrined,
Dream to burn down their
Ivory towers and ivory minarets,
I savour this abominable fantasy,
The violent end
Of their violent delights.
Rage and roar!
Zeus with his thunder,
While I wonder,
If we ever be able to
Pull over the mortuary sheet
Over that hideous yellow night.
