Dyonisos Is Dead

Heaven cries whether its uselessness
Because where the peasant once was dancing the halt and the lame are gathering
now
Turned away they bear their countenance — withheld satisfaction
Deep holes starring — empty shells
Dionysos is dead
But by the echo of the thunder the animal dies its heroic death
Where recently a template sat the orgy is reflected in the loss of face
You’re the downstairsstars
You’re the downstairsstars
Completely disregard
The casting out of gods
The wise are wondering — which bizarre alliance
Pantomimes of their own defeat -no magic without faith!
Glissando of the human sense chopped in equal pieces by precise obstinacy
The animal is yelling, confirming itself, mangling itself, solidary scorn
against itself