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THE PIOGNANT YEARNINGS OF MY LACERATED HEART
ARE LOST IN THE DIN OF BANALITY,
AND AGAIN MOTES THE QUESTION,
WHAT IS FARCE, WHAT REALITY?
THERE IS PAIN, AN ENDLESS SAGA OF PAIN,
YET A FEROCIOUS CONTEST, MELODRAMA, CONTINUITY.
NOW SHOULD I BECOME THE BOVINE BULLSHIT
AND LOSE MY INNOCENCE, CONSCIENCE, SENSITIVITY,
BECOME CORRUPT, LINE MY POCKET,
AND SHUN MY PRINCIPLES, WITHOUT GRAVITY.
EMBOSS MY LIFE, WITH LUST AND LUCRE
AND LIVE MY DAYS, COSMETIC, DAZZLING,
THOUGU sans DIGNITY,
NO, NO, .................NOT AT ALL
I WON'T TOUCH THIS SQUALOR
ASOCIAL! ANTI-SOCIAL! SHEER VANITY!
OH, HOW COULD I RECONCILE AND LOSE
MY SELF! ! ! ! ! .........WHATEVER THEY NAME IT;
ICONOCLASM, TRADITIONALITY, MODERNITY.
AN EXPLOSION, SO LONG OPRESSED
WILL FIND UTTERANCE, WITH FREEDOM, WITH FEROCITY,
SO WILL RAISE THE YEARNINGS OF MY HEART
OVER THE HUMBUG DIN OF BANALITY,
AN UNSULLIED EXPRESSION, AN INDELLIBLE IMPRESSION,
A PLEDGE FUL-FILLED, A TRIUMPH OF HUMANITY.
feroz rather
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