Broken world

Oh broken world
that makes of peace
a negotiation,
of love a rite,
of yours
and my relation
a feature
to publicise.

You can no longer
be bothered
with my life.
Freedom has
taken over,
it raises
its fighting hand
to win or die.

Your menial habits,
my dithyrambics
are more important,
relate so much
that home
and caring
are now negated
even despised.

Rights
have the power,
feelings
the right
and no one wonders
why children
suffer,
old people cry.

All this excitement,
fibre and fat,
torments, abstractions,
grimaces, lies
break every instance
of sense
and family,
of love inside.

Oh, broken living,
turbid, reviled
in making idols,
lifting us high,
destroys
the reason,
unties the meaning,
tramples what's right.