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Kunsthaus Tacheles
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00072_Field_72.txt
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1996-10-14
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44 lines
Frayed Fragments from fantasy's fairground
A fragment of your life
is torn from a page
helplessly falling to the floor in a stony tiled embrace -
you have lost your once exclusive fairground.
You stand, then sit, then whirl around in a rage
oh to be content with the world on a daily basis
is such a nauseating charade -
fantasy cowardly backs away and hides in a melancholic grip.
Oh to drive in a flashy car
through that money dominated circus
of neighbouring lies and spies
look me into the eyes
and say most sincerely
that you have never realised or relished
in a truly marvellous day
for I will fail to believe
that splendid rays have never shone
and that all that glittering treasure has been lost to the mire.
Yes please feel free to sulk and squirm
skulk and bemoan the atrocities you have recently known
but the dreariness of your desolation
stutters in my ears like the conversation
of desperate old men
A cyclone of spite and mutability
may well be fine in the face of adversity
but, really you should try and relax
and not begrudge my state of lax
for like a sovereign, I too had my intimate entanglements.
Which have all been banished or imprisoned
and the altar will never know my joyful union with another
nevertheless, I have learnt to bathe beneath those rays
of sunny sunshine beaming on sparkling days
of funny frivolity frolicking with fantasy's awfully best friend
a fragment of your life is torn from a page
frayed fragments from fantasy's fairground