TURN AWAY (1)

The world sits on its thought, naked,
And tomorrow is a festival show of shame,
I smell salt dancing on my nostrils as
Flesh and bones dangle from the tender of my strength.
The people here are not jovial,
They dance slowly, beating away hands from their heads.
Drums and cymbals are silent as there's no rain to clap their buttocks,
The universe is mad, and there's no bride to live his happiness.
There's an exit staring through the walkway, crawling for salvation,
May there be no apology when his large mouth swallows many like me.
The other side of life is forlorn,
Wondering why nothing good is coming from Nazareth.
I envisage a dream only my mind can carry,
But she has become a flower only tears can bloom.