So righteous is my denial
no daylight or reason can sway
and no attempt to corrupt via semen
will end
in a wet end,
since I won't even start to get hard where it counts,
because hardness is confined to my brain
and you can tell a hard brain that it's mad,
tell it again and again and again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perhaps Munkers is the future where proof or truth will have no purchase or place. Hardly worth thinking about but certainly worth dissent.