Children of Astarte

Hard as granite, are the women in my family

But at least granite has its own beauty
The equation is not entirely correct
As is of course more in life
The world suffers from one-sided reporting
Journalism today is all about fables
Lied facts that in the old days were reserved for politicians.

What kind of mothers would the reporters of today have had

They too have grown up with vain certainties of the ‘I am right’
Or means her right only 'for my happiness, my will, my law'
And is therefore every tormented soul now an internet journalist
Can all be traced back to the unfree free childhood
Everybody unique in the same way, children of a stony mother
Only the poet disposes himself of the imposed truths....

....and slashes his way through the granite to his freedom.