The world
stands still
while,
my words spin,
my dear.
This morning,
while you slept,
I wrote a poem.
One that even
Nietzsche
would like,
because
it is written
with blood.
Written
with blood
and
the help
of a
printing
electronic
microchip
computerized
hardware
operating
system:
my
WEAPON!
The screen
is a
battlefield,
clusters of words
explode
as I
digit
digit
digit
then
delete
everything,
it is:
WAR!
I feel
like a king:
A kingdom! ... a kingdom! ... my poem for a kingdom!
...but, I am!
ERGO SUM!
To write or not to write
this is the real question.
To write is the answer!
Finally,
the battle
is won.
My poetry
is on the
WORLD
WIDE
WEB.
It is sunny,
beautiful,
outside.
So,
open your
narrowed eyes,
my dear,
smile,
there is poetry,
everywhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem