THE DEAD POET
he cried
within the body of man
By his own burial.
Resurrect or bury it !
Do not leave it in putrid state ...
The mercy of the vultures of savage capitalism ,
where fiery cross your heart .
The poet was dead within their own homeland ...
So there is no point , nothing illustrates or clarifies !
Also generates nothing ,
they live outside where he lived the dream ...
Dead ! Where repeatedly been.
The poet wanted the comfort of Mother Nature ,
the whisper of Mother Earth that generates
Love ... Life !
Among the hills , churches ,
Baroque art , the clear or overcast sky ...
He would sing their cry;
rocked in the cradle of the great masters and
conspiracy where the general land generates .
Oh ! Illusionist and dreamy , between legalized drugs and
failures , shakes your body , your mind anesthesia .
So hurry ! ...
Run as a free horse between the valleys and
mountains , smelling the purest poetry
as the most flavorful and unmatched miner cheese bread ,
where pleasure is blessed ...
Fitting up as a last
sigh and kiss ...
O poet resurrects ...
for your new awakening
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