i am not talking
about invasions,
or the right to move.
i hate that industry.
it pollutes the life
of the livings.
i do not mind to see, meet
talk and share some meat
bread, bear or wine
with strangers
but without display
or advertisement for superiority or power.
i do not like
few
take it all,
the rest are working ants,
yellow and black bees collecting honey.
it is simply
a plantation,
and
slavery
for fun.
while the ancients
left
few art works
on rocks, some circles, and a desert of mythologies
fairy tails,
the new humanity
will leave
nothing but
mountains of plastics.
it could be,
i am 2 clinically cynical!
am i?
or maybe yo are?
one of us
may have a methodology
for a good hand
for dissection and cutting
age's ideas
i am too cynical
about ideas
and technologies
it is a part of the mind.
hence,
it is pure control, and no point
'survivalism' mixed with an irrational
surrealism.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem