They wanted to make a statement
And was born a movement
From the Hunger's dream
Of breaking from the past
To build anew from the rust.
Words were picked from the soil
Words that stung senses
And made one recoil.
Finesse repelled, they were called obscene
Devoid of literary value, vulgar unclean.
Only a handful, the movement didn't thrive
Deserted betrayed, it couldn't survive.
Still not known their visions hidden in the mist
A rebellion for a lost cause by the hungry realist!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem