Seldom do futile words about love take on a living,

but leave in defiance its new ruins everywhere.

Listen in here carefully now, sneerlife;

Wrong in the head gives wrong in the eyes.

Right in nothing own rights to nothing.

Shut thereafter kindly your slow snout.

Advice on advice writes a starving harvest

wording a wisdom stolen from nonsense

wherein tiresome words are endowed pity

so like raisins showing the full grape vine

We know all too well that been and had are us a wretch to harvest

so keep all your filthy, wry-legged and weakmoulded words

where all regretted ”love” always takes its way home to be hated

Hear the laughter at your comparing of mutual infantilities to be sane

and find you thereafter that the will to your wrongs are missing here,

furthermore that more than love is not a mystery; The name remains.

Rip from its hold

that cleanest emotions have here too hard been used up,

that the fairest scum creeps in line before foulest!

Rip from its hold that suffering and death stand all near!

Take to its hold

that Honour will outshine petty survival,

that only Truth does own us in real Beauty!

MORE THAN LOVE