Low in his role,
the strong man,
teaches tricks to his dog.
Rusty metal,
mechanically hits the rhythm of fear,
above the “inferior” friend.
Power by words,
rays of pain from the moon,
the night is too long.
Trying to impress the higher ones,
and fear again,
puts his head down.
Bark around is a release,
but the gravestone is too heavy,
life can’t be won.
As he competes all the time,
by bulling those who have mind,
no escape from the blind state.
Unrolling the long tongue,
under the feet of the better,
submission is the way of pain.
But they both don’t know,
because they keep alive,
the hierarchy of misery.
Drooling weak lines on paper,
the book is written,
and burnt at the same time.
They never had a chance,
to draw a free line,
on the blue sky.
– The Chain Of Servants –
Enamel on canvas
70x50x4,5cm
2014
D->
