Epode III
Heavens still reside in the ghetto’s heart
yet logos stay imprisoned in the maze
of a code and its ever-fast whip
like an ape standing outside
the big door of salvation
bigots holding him at bay
and the crystal stars on the horizon
sing the hymeneal again.
Logos as in a maze of twisted minds
is torn between a lustful moon
and the freshness of a spring song
light of freedom in sunless cells
and headmaster still walks around
headless or
heartless
as he’s commanded
by his insatiable greed
who sees value in the control
in the protocol and in the fear
fed to the mortals like manna.
Troglodytes of the Middle Ages.
Manolis Aligizakis 