SONGS OF SOLILOQUY

Nothing to be done!
When the empty shrine doesn’t evacuated one’s relief,
When poetry is not sharpen as slim sandwich slice,
When Mammon is not be worshiped by slums,
When Capitalism devours corpses of soul,
When the black cat needs citadel;
Crystallized Crimson rushes out sparsely
Screaming-
No more, No more, No more.

O, Nothing to be done!
When sedition substitutes secularism,
When lit Bacchus chases after Mulatto,
When Breasts of battle feed at one’s back,
When her pelvic obscenity rise on subway,
When the baby on the sack plays with arsenal;
Crystallized Crimson rushes out sparsely
Screaming-
No more, No more, No more.