WATching the 4D movie
of the
lOST iSLAND, Got bitten almost
by a snake
the plane crashes beside
an erupting volcano
meanwhile the aborigenes
keep on shooting with their spears
the woman beside me
screams
to this illusion as i keep
waiting when will this
unnecessary thing end
i want to go to the door and take
my escape from this
hallowed
commercialism, consumerism
and wastage of my
shattering humanity
my dripping soul absorbed
by the dry money paper
laundered in the group laughter
sun shine, all artificial man made
creations of the mind boggling
like a crayon doddle
fingers scratching for meaning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem