Dark Poem by Darlan M Cunha

Here lives a poet, here lives an alienated
in spite of the excessive noise and a raging sun
and salt and gall and sulfur from the conversions,
he's still here
between lackeys and bitches on all the steps

they're nothing more than crumbs in the pan
and you can compare them to the storms of contempt
accompanied by spit-ups from a certain neighborhood,
because here lives the random, yes, a vate lives here
his days of careless irreverence beginning

by the crumpled, but not dirty, crumpled clothes
as if some bug had chewed them up,
sleepless nights in full pockets
of anxieties for that fruit and those vegetables,
but where and how to learn tricks
and become a very selective magnet
in this land of evil, god will give, take there and give?

Here dwells a seer or visionary, according to good and bad
tongues, mistrust him poor, beggar, weird millionaire.




***
DeepL.com, Germany. March 2020