The dozers rumble
And the hood turns to rubble
Man and mammon in disarray
No finger lifted in affray
Deep beneath the terrain
Chambers in quiet repose remain
Their majesty, the maggots holding courts
Meting justice to unfertilized lots
The moral, bellows King Maggot:
Be not afraid of the despot
Who ravages the “super-” to nonsense
But leaves the “sub-“ in quiescence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem