The Fifth Jewel

ancient Egypt, 51 b.C


I believe
the first time I knew I was getting murdered
was when Cleopatra uttered her last words.

She was dressed in cotton the day of
Caesar's assassination.

We were in the crowd.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm not in Cairo anymore,
The sun stopped bleeding.


A mirage sways ahead,



I've been murdered.

. . .







I was being sought
after I found The Five Jewels
hidden in the Valley of the Kings.

Who can say if there's any luck left,
where are The Five Jewels now?
They are definitely in wrong hands.
(Sahara, red-tainted)

As I'm getting closer to finding out who killed me
I realized I had replaced the Fifth Jewel.
For me the fifth one is not the biggest in size but the
greatest in soul.

If you ask me 'what does it feels like?',
I can't explain.
My memory floats blurred on the Red Sea.
Maybe Cleopatra's body rests there, I don't know.

Let me explain the importance of the Fifth Jewels.
If you're reading this, you know what I've been through.
You know how much I've come to
love my Jewels.

To have love for the first three would be a foolish thing to say.

But oh, the gods know how much I've felt desire in the last two.
Maybe danger rests in them.
Maybe lust and greed feeds them.

My eyes were mouths when I was murdered.
My body was buried inside of the Great Sphinx.
Therein lies your first assignment.
Go and find my body and you will find the Fifth Jewel within me.
Maybe inside where the secrets died altogether.

Go to the market town of Alexandria and find an old man by the name of
Selim Hassan
Look at him in the eye and say:
"what else could he do?"
He will understand and will give you further directions.

Good luck, friend.
Everything will come together at the end and you'll understand.
Trust me all along the valley, son.
The rain will feed us both, soon.

To Forbidden Jane

(... a room.)

Hollow.

Beware, Jane.
And no, I can't stop thinking either.

I don't know why this reminds me of you.

From a secular son I don't seem to find anything,
I see the cornfields wearing the ocean apart.

Only white light borns from watching you,
For him you are a second coincidence.

There's no such thing.

The sun opens
its arms to

welcome
a
lie.

With The Trail of an Eagle

Another season, Caesar. Another lie, another argument.
They've left many times, with the trail of an eagle.
(A shadow drags you up the stairs and down the stairs.)
They die away.
Shrink
into the opposite side of the room.
Me, soon to forget
as weak as the eagle that flies into unknown
and off this land.

They are at the back of my hand.
And I choose never to be forgotten.

"How miracles slide down"
You said, softly.
I thought you were nothing.
But you have proved a shadow
is more
(these days)
than a human that walks as if
life was not a word worth writing about.

Confusing as it is, I give second chances and furthermore I deserve one.

Backstabbing California (Part 2)

My mistress sports a dress today.
Her name is Dissapointment and she doesn't know what a smile is.

Today she's on my side once more,
she brings back four-hundred eagles that were dead until today.

We are an army under the feet of a giant.
We don't promise anything.

Let us not ask any questions
Forget the foolish things we said

I don't know if you are a human anymore.
You don't stand for the things you used to belive in.
Your soul falls, easily, as snow.

You drink a sting, a bear drinks beer from a barrel.
Let us age the wine first.

I am more.
You say: "The opposite of winter is hidden from view."

Who are you?

How remarkable.
To advance the hollow body of an owl.

I need to laugh.
But Dissapointment doesn't even know what a smile is.

A Rose, Eleanor

A rose, Eleanor
Caresses away in bloom

grounded

the wind with red dust
Your Bergamot eyes

it falls
maybe slower
Than before.

blinks at
white Eyes
follow them
France allows

At the end I see a light
but you
can only murder me

when I'm sleeping