Politeia

The Israeli nation is Art made under pressure,

it couldn’t have been otherwise forged.

The Israeli nation is a frustrated artist who cut off his organ

just to prove

he would do anything in the name of a wheat field with crows.

Contrary to Van Gogh, there is no beauty in the lines of this country.

The Israeli nation is a master glass-blower

mixing tubes, testing chemical-reactions

of ethnicities formation

the Israeli nation

is one

of many.

The people of Israel hold each other’s heel,

as in the act of burning steel,

they bend one another to reach the top

creating a chain firmly locked.

Yet, the motherland stands so warm,

her breasts savor the sea, shine on,

her pelvis – virgin land,

droplets trickle down her spine

throughout the Jordan trail,

I follow them south to the lake of passion

which turns out to be the sea of

death.

Didn’t the master of procreation know it is salted land?

The tubes are all smoking,

the artist is bleeding to the ground.

The pressure ferments all colors to black

In the holy land of war.

Flowers are covered with a veil,

weeds stand on their thorns,

and among those who glance through the shutters

leaks the distinct scent of a

joint. 

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